Gleanings from Germany: or, Select specimens of German romance and history

Ex Libris
C. K. OGDEN

GLEANINGS FROM GERMANY.

GLEANINGS FROM GERMANY

SELECT SPECIMENS

GERMAN ROMANCE AND HISTORY

COMPRISING

$rotwctumfl of tfje most esteemed
of tf)at

CLAUREN, MADAME PICHLER, HEINSE, CASTELLI, ZSCHOKKE,
MUCHLER, BORNE, DEINHARDSTEIN, KOHLRAUSCH,
CARL MARIA VON WEBER, &c.

FROM THE GERMAN,

BY JAMES D. HAAS.

LONDON:

JAMES S. HODSON,

112, FLEET STREET;
D. NUTT, 158, FLEET-STREET.

1839.

n, I'rinter, 15, Cross Street, Hatton (iariien, London.

PREFACE.

THE Editor of the Volume now presented to the kind
patronage of the Public, ventures to hope that his
endeavours to collect together, in a complete form,
some of his principal contributions from the German,
made during his leisure moments, will not be found
altogether unworthy of notice and consideration.

To the reader, unacquainted with, and, perhaps,
not interested in the language — now so generally
studied — of the country whence the following pages
have been culled, here and there a scattered scene
contained in this Miscellany may, it is humbly hoped,
still present some attraction, and ensure a favorable
reception ; whilst to the student of German literature,
desirous of having within reach a selection of varied
interest, embracing translations from the productions
of some of the most esteemed writers of Germany —

2-" H**o
O JL t G

VI

the contents of the present volume, by being used and
compared with the original Works (most of which may
be procured separately), may, even in the character of
Exercises, prove not only an entertaining, but also an
instructive and useful companion in the acquirement
of the language.

CONTENTS.

LIESLI, THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN ; OR, THE CEMETERY
OF SHWYTZ. A Swiss Tale. By CLAUREN 1

THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ; OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. An His-
torical Romance. By MAD. PICHLER.. 49

SALVATOR ROSA j OR, THE PORTRAIT OP DANAE. A Comedy.
By DEINHARDSTEIN 291

A SCENE IN THE LIFE OF A MUSICIAN. A Humorous
Sketch. — THE DISCORDANT HARMONIST. A Dream.
By CARL MARIA VON WEBER 321

ARDINGHELLO ; OR, AN ARTIST'S RAMBLES IN SICILY. A
Fragment. By HEINSE 331

THE CASTLE OF CLEVES ; OR, THE WITNESS-HAND. A
Tale. By CASTELLI 345

THE HEROINE OF THE TYROL ; OR, 'Tis TIME ! A Scene
in the Tyrolese War. By * * » * * 337

CHARACTER OF CHARLEMAGNE. By KOHLRAUSCH.— GOETHE,
AS A PATRIOT. A Fragment. By BOERNE 373

THE Swiss CONFEDERATION : William Tell. By ZSCHOKKB. 383

PERSONAL ANECDOTES OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. By
MUCHLER. . 392

LIESLI,

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN;

OB

THE CEMETERY OF SHWYTZ.

A SWISS TALE,

BY CLAUREN.

LIESLI,

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN.

I HAD just arrived at Shvvytz, from the Lake of Wahlstadt ;
my soul was still absorbed in the recollection of the majestic
and sublime scenery I had just beheld. The chapel of Wil-
liam Tell — the river Matte, the hut where the free-man had
dwelt, together with the wide and glassy surface of the charm-
ing lake, surrounded with rocks ten thousand feet in height —
all the appearances of this vast and majestic creation, with
the imperishable relics of past memorable times — all con-
tinued to present themselves to my imagination, adding more
and more to the already exalted emotions excited by the
grand spectacle.

Seating myself at the window of my inn, I beheld before
me, rising and towering to the heavens above, Mount My-
then, with its double peak, and the wooden cross planted
upon its highest summit. It appeared every moment, as if
some dreadful catastrophe similar to that which destroyed the
Valley of Goldau, would here be repeated ; the ancient My-
then hung threatening over the little town, and large time-
worn apertures were observable in the body of the rock. By
the breaking asunder of this mass, in its airy elevation, it
must be feared that certain destruction awaits the devoted
city, situated, as it is, at the foot of the rock.

The longer I looked the more did it appear as if this an-
cient edifice of nature was tottering : the cross erected by

B 2

4 LIESLIj

some daring hand, seemed to decline its head towards the
town, as if wishing to exhort the inhabitants beneath, to
prepare themselves by devotion against the approaching hour.
At length, unable to look up at the frightful, rocky height,
which too surely must precipitate itself sooner or later upon
the unfortunate inhabitants beneath, I sought to banish
from my mind the appalling thoughts on the possibility of
such a dreadful event, and recommending my soul to God,
I rambled out into the open air, in order to enjoy the beauties
of the evening.

The curfew of the Convent of the Dominican Nuns an-
nounced by its monotonous sounds that the pious sisters were
offering up their prayers to Him who can restrain the waters
within their limits, uphold the rocks upon their bases, and pre-
scribe the bounds of worlds of stars, on their airy flight in the
heavens. With a feeling of silent admiration, and with that
submission with which weak man depicts to himself the throne
of his Almighty Creator, I contemplated the horizon adorned
by the setting sun. In the foreground arose to my view,
gloomy and silent, Mount Rigi j on its summit, that seemed
to touch the heavens, I beheld the great cross by which it is
surmounted, still faintly gilded by the rays of the setting sun
concealed behind the mighty Alps, while, at the foot of the
mountain, all was night and darkness. My heartfelt oppressed
by painful emotion, and abandoned thus to my own reflec-
tions, and excited by some secret feeling, I turned my steps
towards Siti, where, to the eastward, the rock of Fallenflue,
and westward Mount Shoenbucherberg, together with the
Frohnalp, veiled by the grey clouds, served me as guides }
these were not, however, the objects which could satisfy the
feelings by which I was so agitated. Their high and ancient
summits seemed to indicate their close affinity with the higher
celestial world above ; and thus, feeling how I was enchained
to the earth beneath, I shuddered at their frightfully awful
elevation.

At the end of the grand avenue of trees near Siti, there

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURX. 5

stands a summer-house. Eastward a beaten path leads
towards a hermitage, situated deep within the bosom of the
wood : here I wished to take up ray abode for the night,
should the hermit and myself prove mutually pleased with
each other. In my juvenile years I had read much of such
hermitages, and with all the romantic imagination of youth,
pictured to myself, in the most picturesque and seducing colours,
these happy calm retreats and their holy inhabitants. As yet
I had never had an opportunity of beholding such a spot, and
now, therefore, wished to gratify my curiosity. Accordingly, I
was proceeding down a declivity of the mountain, through
the thickets and young brambles which opposed my descent,
when my progress was suddenly arrested by the appearance
of a venerable man j it was the hermit himself, who had just
come from having offered his evening prayers in the chapel,
some hundred paces distant from his hermitage, to which
solitary dwelling he was now returning. I greeted him with
silent respect and veneration, to which he as silently replied.

"May I, venerable father, be allowed to enter your holy
dwelling ?" — I enquired modestly.

" What is your object in making that request ?" he replied,
in a tone not altogether repulsive, though neither was it
friendly.

" Why, I have no particular motive to satisfy."— I replied,
with a good-natured smile, " I am a native of the north,
travelling through your beautiful country ; I have never as yet
beheld either hermit or hermitage, though both have often been
the subjects of my youthful fancy and meditation ; I feel de-
sirous, therefore, holy father, of now satisfying my curiosity,
by passing a short and instructive hour in your society. You
are more wise and pious than we children of the world ; you
live in solitude and seclusion ; you pass your time in acts of
devotion ; your silent prayers are not disturbed by those guilty
agitations of mind to which we unhappily are too often ex-
posed, and God is nearer to you, because you are more pure
and guiltless of those misdeeds \vith which we too often have

u3

6 LIESLI,

to reproach ourselves. Are you not here completely happy,
holy father, in your retreat ?"

" Happy !" — replied he, slowly, stopping of a sudden, and
casting an expressive look of grave severity towards the pale-
purpled sky, which still faintly gilded the cross on the peak of
Mount Rigi. "My son," he continued, after a silent pause,
"hast thou ever, in thy life, beheld one happy mortal r"

" Yes, holy father, I myself am happy. I have nothing to
reproach myself with, I am young and healthy, and at home I
have a beloved family and dear and valued friends ; I have
what I require, and even more than sufficient to satisfy
my wants. Nothing pains or disquiets my mind, travelling
delights me, and I am now in your beatiful country, where, at
every step, nature unfolds new charms, and where God has
manifested his great and ever-reigning glory, in so wonderful
a manner."

"Happy!" replied the venerable man, doubtfully shaking
his hoary head, "hast thou no share in the afflictions of
others ?"

To this question, which sounded so strangely in my ears, I
could only reply by casting down my eyes in confusion.

" And I too," continued he, " have no reproaches to make
myself. I likewise enjoy the blessing of health ; lalsohave my
family and friends, if not here, yet in the eternal home of
peace above ; I too have all that I require ; I also, like thee,
enjoy pleasure in the survey of God's beauteous creation, and
yet — I am not happy. The pains, the wants of my more un-
happy neighbours too often oppress and overcome my feelings ;
for to me come only such unhappy beings as seek to pour into
my heart those troubles and afflictions with which they are
so heavy laden, and under which they would otherwise sink.
But thou, who livest within the wide range of this world, hast
thou never yet beheld the flow of bitter tears descending
down the cheek of sorrow ? Hast thou never heard the
troubled sigh, when issuing from the breast of affliction ?
Hast thou never yet experienced the painful sensation which

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 7

follows the wish to help misfortune's child, and yet the want
of power to effect it ?"

His discourse fell upon my conscience-stricken breast like
a burning weight of fire, and my eyes were so chained to the
earth, that I neither dared nor could look up. " Who can
help all," I exclaimed, wishing to excuse myself; " were one
a very Croesus, it would ruin and impoverish at last ?"

" You do not comprehend my meaning, "replied he, sternly,
" and only prove how little till now you have participated in
the sufferings of your fellow-creatures. It is not gold that
always serves to alleviate affliction, for often is the beggar far
happier than he who aids, and who yet himself endures anguish
of mind ; it is consolation, counsel, mildness, patience, which
you owe to your neighbour, and until you can fulfil these
duties with all your zeal and strength, you cannot call your-
self happy. Delay not with your help till it be demanded;
as soon as you know it is required step forward with a zealous
alacrity, but reckon not upon reward, you do only your duty,
and cannot require thanks. The feeling, the consciousness
of having done our duty is the highest recompense we can
wish to enjoy here below. — God be with you !" — AVith these
words this singular being left me, and thus I had for once
beheld a hermit.

The venerable man proceeded silently towards his cell, and
I saw myself forced to return again to Shwytz, or to pass the
night under the canopy of heaven.

Plunged in deep reverie, I in vain endeavoured to recall the
subject of my late discourse with the hermit ; I felt as if his
words had awakened me from the most flattering dreams.

Silent and thoughtful I returned home. I had just learned
to consider this life in a point of view which was to me per-
fectly new, but which, presenting at the same time a very
uninviting and cheerless prospect, only conveyed to me a
dark and melancholy feeling. I was then, he said, to seek
out myself the misery which prevailed amongst my fellow-

8 LIESLl,

creatures ; to offer them my help and succour, and that with-
out even the prospect or hope of reward, or thanks in return !
I fain would have wished to persuade myself that the lan-
guage of the hermit was only the result of an overheated zeal,
arising from the ascetic life he led ; and that though his strict
doctrine might well be put in practice by a penitent anchorite
in his solitary cell, yet it could never be suitable for a being
living in and for the world, having so many and various occu-
pations and duties to perform. But all these evasive thoughts
and arguments did not serve to tranquillize my mind ; on the
contrary, I felt convinced of the truth of the venerable man's
words, though it appeared to me difficult to be as he wished
man should be.

On the side of the road on the way back to my inn, I passed
the principal church of the town of Shwytz, situated on a de-
clivity. The churchyard, where, according to the laudable
custom of the place, all the graves are bestrewed with flowers,
may be compared to a garden, and presents a very different
aspect to the melancholy abodes of the dead, disfigured by
crosses, tomb-stones, and wild weeds, as in our part of the
country. It was the season of the Alpine pink (diantlius plu-
mnrius), of which millions were blooming here in variegated
colours, while their delicious odours perfumed the dusky even-
ing air. Here and there the flowers were overtopped by little
stands of stone, forming basins to contain the holy water,
with which they were sprinkled.

Seating myself upon a part of the wall which surrounded
the church yard, I contemplated the lonely scene around me,
amidst the deepest silence. In the little town beneath were
slumbering the living — and here I was surrounded by the
dead, reposing beneath the flowers. Again the discourse of
the hermit occurred to my mind, while the deep solitude which
prevailed around, rendered me still more susceptible of reflec-
tion upon the true sense and meaning of his words. I con-
fessed to myself, that hitherto I had only been seeking after

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURX. 9

pleasure, that amid its scenes alone I had found enjoyment,
and that my senses had been most attracted and enchained by
the sounds of merriment and joy.

I admitted too, that I had ever preferred the society of such
as added to my pleasure and amusement by their wit and
gaity, to those of a more serious and sedate temperament.
But now, in order to become happy, I must seek out the
afflicted, and to dry up the tears of the unhappy was to be
my only pleasure, to console and assist the dejected — my only
happiness. Those alone accustomed to the severe restrictions
of a monastic life, could impose such laws and duties upon
youth — upon a man anxious still to enjoy the world and its
many pleasures. I rose from my seat on the wall, still unde-
cided within myself whether or not to listen to the exhortations
of the morose hermit, or to follow my own more congenial
and inviting inclinations, intending to pass through the flowery
graves around the church, and then to return home.

Behind the church I beheld a small chapel, which I found
open, and but feebly illumined by a lamp. I stepped forward
through the porch, but I must confess I was seized with a
certain feeling of terror, which prevented me from advancing
farther j there appeared to reign a silence so mysterious and
gloomy in the house of prayer, and there proceeded from
within such a cold, shuddering atmosphere, as if issuing from
the grave, that my farther entrance was completely stopped.
I was on the point of retiring, when I observed by the dim
light of the lamp a female figure kneeling at the foot of the
altar, piously engaged in prayer : she appeared interrupted by
my entrance, and, accordingly, finishing her devotions, she
slowly arose, bowed before the altar, and devoutly crossing
herself, passed by me in silence. The darkness hindered my
distinguishing her features, but by her gait and deportment I
could easily perceive that she was young. I followed her at a
distance till she stopped and remained standing at a grave be-
strewed with flowers, where she dropped slowly upon her
knees and prayed j she then arose and sprinkled the flowers

10 LIESLI,

with the holy water out of the basin that was near her. I had
in the meanwhile approached closer, and, deeply affected by
this simple and pious act of devotion, enquired of her softly,
who it was that lay buried under this sacred and hallowed
mound of earth ?

"My mother !" she replied, weeping; and, concealing her
face with her folded hands, she slowly pursued her way
across the church-yard towards the town.

I could not, dared not follow ; I felt how far preferable it
must be for her to be left alone, and allowed the uninterrupted
indulgence of her sad and pious feelings. Had she wished to
have spoken to me, she would have remained and prolonged
the conversation, for my question sufficiently indicated the
inclination I felt to learn further about her. Of what use
then to me, I said, was the strict rule of the hermit ? I would
fain have comforted her, and the interest I might have shewn
would most assuredly have assuaged her grief, but she had
defeated my charitable purpose ; yet, to pursue, detain, obtrude
myself upon her, I could not. Still I felt how right and just
the venerable man had spoken, for as long as man felt he had
failed in his duty, he never could be happy. I was melancholy
and discontented with myself, though I must confess that the
feelings excited by this adventure were not of that undisturbed
pure nature which they certainly ought to have been.

Although it was dark, that had not hindered my remarking,
from the outlines of her figure, her dress, and motion, so
much nobleness, so much elegance and grace, that I could
fain have wished to have exchanged a few more words with
her ; though still the brief reply I had received from her was
sufficient to convince me that nought but filial love, piety, and
innocence, could dwell within that bosom. — My mother ! —
these two words still seemed to sound within the deepest re-
cesses of my heart ; by the melody and the sweet accent of
that voice alone, amidst thousands, after the lapse of years, I
should have known her again. It would have been easy for
me to have followed her, to have learned where she lived, and

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 11

informed myself further respecting her situation; but the
town of Shwytz is so small, that had I been perceived follow-
ing her, by a single person, the next day it would have been
published all over the town. I might, however, have learned
both the name and history of the young girl from my hostess,
had I related my little adventure to her j but being a very
sly and cunning woman, she would no doubt have seen fur-
ther than I wished her to see, and would have surmised and
imagined things regarding our nocturnal meeting which cer-
tainly neither I, nor my fair and pious unknown, ever dreamt
or thought of, when at the foot of her mother's grave. I,
therefore, kept the secret securely locked in my own breast,
and was sanguine in my hopes of again meeting her to-mor-
row evening on the same spot. I began now to interpret the
vague, undefiuable desire with which my heart was agitated
when wandering towards Siti. I had longed and wished for
something, and a mysterious feeling seemed to indicate to me
that now I had found it. The Mythen, which I again began
to contemplate from my window, did not now appear to my
view so awfully dangerous ; for should it begin to totter, I
could seek out the dwelling of my pious unknown, and were
the menacing rock to crush us with its ponderous weight,
still I thought if die we must, that death would be no longer
appalling when shared with her.

I had purposed quitting Shwytz the ensuing morning, and
continuing my route to Zug; but a feeling far more powerful
than curiosity prompted me to stay, and thus enchained, I
found myself insensibly approaching the spot among the
graves, where at evening I hoped again to meet the young
maiden.

The day appeared to me eternally tedious. I surveyed all
that presents itself to the curiosity of the traveller, and atten-
tively observed all the young fair ones I met in the course of
my walk, but could not find any amongst them who at all
resembled her I sought. — Thus passsed off the morning.

After dinner I ascended the Urny j I wandered among the

12 LIESLI,

cottages and fruit gardens as in a dream, possessed by one
only object, and dwelling on my fair unknown and the hour
when I hoped again to see her. Passing through the vine-
yards at the foot of the Urny, which are said to produce ex-
cellent wine, these grapes, thought I to myself, have time
enough to ripen yet, and I felt vexed at the lingering of the
sun, which seemed determined to delay his setting behind
Mount Rigi.

Long before the appointed time, I returned to Shwytz, but
there being nothing to hope at the church-yard, I again bent
my steps towards Siti, and thence onwards to the wood of the
hermitage. I arrived at the chapel ; my old acquaintance the
hermit was not there, but, seated on the steps, I beheld — my
interesting unknown. Yesterday, from the darkness of the
evening I had been unable to distinguish her features, but
that she was the same figure I had then beheld, I could have
sworn by a thousand oaths ; for not in the whole of Shwytz,
nor even in the whole universe, could two beings possess that
delicate grace, or tha.t nobleness of form, which in her were so
conspicuous.

Now it was I conjured the setting sun to relax his rapid
course, and with deep uneasiness beheld him retiring behind
the mountain; for with his purple hue vanished the same
beauteous tinge from the cheeks of the blooming girl beside
me, with which my presence had overspread them, doubtless
from her recognising in the intruder the nocturnal wanderer
among the graves of the reposing Shwytzers.

" What are you doing here ?" I enquired, in a friendly
tone, of the beauteous maiden ; to which she modestly replied,
" she was waiting for the hermit," Yes, 'twas she indeed !
the two words she had pronounced the evening before seemed
at the enchanting sound of her voice again to thrill through
my soul. I had seen the most celebrated picture galleries of
Europe ; I had admired the Madonnas of Raphael and Guido;
but amongst the whole of these collections my eyes had never
beheld a head so angelically beautiful as that which now

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 13

presented itself to my gaze. How poor, how weak, how in-
competent are the efforts of the greatest painters to embody
an image of so much perfection ! Such skill appertains to
the Creator alone. That regular oval form, the mild lustre
which shone so sweetly in her soft sloe-black eyes, half hid
by their long lashes ; that pure innocence of soul which
beamed from them ; the smile of love upon her rosy cheeks,
those ruby lips, that row of teeth vying with ivory itself;
no — never could the hand of the painter produce or pourtray
so many charms. I was motionless with surprise, and gazed
upon the beauteous being with silent wonder and admiration.
Such blooming firmness of tint was never attained by the
vulgar Flemish school ; that colouring was not Italian, which
too often mars, with gaudy daubs, faces on which the Almighty
by his creating breath had breathed the soft carnation hues of
life and youth.

She appeared at most to be sixteen, and yet what fulness
displayed in her bosom, what grace in her neck, how beauti-
fully rounded her arm ; indeed, the whole of the enchanting
figure was so perfect, and so finely formed, from the silken
flowing hair, to the small and pretty foot, that I inwardly de-
termined, should many such beings bestow their visits upon
the hermit, to turn anchorite myself.

The young and beautiful creature was seated at the foot of
the steps leading to the chapel, employed in culling the flowers
from some herbs in her lap, and placing them in a basket at
her feet. I sat down next the basket, under the pretence
of examining the flowers, and awaiting the arrival of the
hermit.

Once I had seen in the collection of the Messrs. Boisseree,
in Heidelberg, a German altar-piece, where the principal figure
was a Madonna, whose beautiful countenance made an indelible
impression upon me. The painting was upon a ground of
gold, and in the celestial countenance of the holy virgin there
was mingled so much of earthly beauty, as made it difficult to
decide whether it belonged to this world or to heaven. It

14 LIESLI,

seemed to me as if the sweetly animated countenance beside
me had served as a model for the painter, so much did the
Madonna resemble her j and, as if to complete the illusion,
the golden ground of the painting seemed now represented by
the horizon behind the Rigi, which, gilded by the setting sun,
appeared like a burning altar of the Most High.

The sweet maiden must indeed have imagined I had lost all
power of speech, for since my first question, and my assurance
of having also to wait for the hermit, not a sound had escaped
my lips, so lost had I been in contemplating the magic
charms of this lovely creature. Even nature was dumb, and
appeared also to have shared in the general expression of
silent awe and admiration at the scene of celestial splendour
and magnificence around us ; the deepest silence reigned all
over the forest ; the air and leaves were motionless.

Who speaks much feels little ; I was intoxicated with feel-
ings of the most rapturous joy and delight.

At length I awoke from my trance, and enquired how long
it was since her mother was laid under the flowers which she
yesterday sprinkled with holy water.

" It was one year yesterday," she softly and seriously re-
plied, as from her virgin bosom heaved a painful sigh. Her
eyes, filled with tears, seemed to rest upon the ocean of fire
in the west ; as if to express, that, with her mother, the sun
which had illumined her life had descended into the dark-
ness and obscurity of night, like the sun of creation now
vanishing from our view.

" Have you no father left ?" I asked, deeply affected by this
expressive and silent look of sorrow and melancholy.

She shook her lovely head, bent it still lower upon her
work, and after a parase, answered,

" My father died when I was a child."

" And have you no relations, no friends ?"

"Yes, in Shoenewerth, in the canton of Solothurn.-. You
may perhaps be acquainted there with the charitable founda-
tion of St. Clara- Werra: there I have an uncle. I wrote to

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 15

him lately, and to-day I have received his answer. It is for the
purpose of confiding it to the hermit, and receiving his advice
that I am here, but he is not yet come."

" What says your uncle ?"

" He himself is unfortunate," she replied, forgetting her
own unhappy state, " he has many children, and no bread to
give them." Sighing again she held her hand before her
eyes, as if beholding before her some yawning precipice that
turned her giddy.

Thus, without intending it, she had made me acquainted
with her condition.

" What will you do, then ?" I enquired anxiously.

" I know not," she said, with emotion, whilst she struggled
to restrain her falling tears ; " the good hermit would have
told me ; but he is not here."

" He would have told you," I replied, " that you should
pray to God, and put your trust in him."

" Ah ! dear sir, that is what I daily do; and I trust that
he will grant my prayer. Hitherto I have lived upon what was
left me by mother, but that was little, for she was poor ; —
now that is gone, and I am left destitute. I have no one who
can assist me ; but my God will not leave me to perish
miserably. I must leave this place, though I know not where
to turn my steps in the wide world."

" And what are you able to do ?" I enquired, as I looked at
her delicate little hand, the lily whiteness of which could not
be matched by any courtly dame.

" I know not myself what I can do," she replied, smiling
abashed, and looking downwards half ashamed. " It is but
very little ; others, however, gain their living, who know not
much more, and could I only once leave this place, no doubt
I might find a chance of procuring some situation where I
may faithfully employ my time. There is nothing but the
ashes of my dearly- beloved mother to keep me here. Two
young girls of Shwytz, who left this place some time since for

c2

16 LIESLIj

Vienna and Berlin, are now happy and well situated there j
why may I nol also meet with the same good fortune ?"

I gazed upon the lovely girl with silent wonder ; her in-
fantine simplicity formed a singular contrast with the firm-
ness of character she displayed in her determination of ven-
turing into the wide world. During our conversation she
had not once dared to turn her eyes towards me ; she con-
tinued to gaze upon the crimson sky of evening beneath us,
and appeared totally unconscious and unembarrassed at her
situation, thus in confidential conversation with a stranger in
the dusk of evening, and in the middle of a lonely forest ;
neither did she seem to entertain the slightest curiosity to
know who I was.

She now rose, and shaking from her lap the stems which
she had picked off the herbs, took the basket containing the
flowers, for the purpose, as she said, of placing it at the door
of the hermit's cell. She had culled and prepared these herbs,
in order to employ the time while waiting for the poor recluse,
who, it appears, formed them into wreaths, and gave them
away in exchange for provisions in the town. She advanced
towards the hut with an air as if she had studied under the
Graces themselves.

I followed her with my eyes and felt myself consumed
by a raging fire, which seemed every minute to increase. I
endeavoured, with a force almost supernatural, to quench the
ardour of my feelings, so as at least to prevent, as much as
possible, the innocent girl from knowing how near she had
been seated to a burning volcano. I abstained from follow-
ing her, though at the risk of never beholding her again ;
for another, shorter path, leading from the hermitage to
Shvvytz, rendered it unnecessary for her to return by the
more circuitous route leading to the chapel.

I remained seated there with an anxiety and agitation
greater than if the losing or gaining of an empire was to be
the result; she, however, shook out the flowers upon the

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 17

bench at the hermit's door, and returned again towards the
chapel. Transported with joy I rose from my seat, and ad-
vanced a few steps to meet her. During the time of her ab-
sence I had taken from my purse three pieces of gold, which
1 now, secretly and unobserved, whilst walking by her side,
dropped into her basket.

We wandered back towards Siti. Twice had I been upon
the point of offering her my arm, but could not summon
courage, fearing from her appearance, that she would decline
my offer, and then I should have felt ashamed of myself. To
such as have visited Switzerland, and have become acquainted
with the customs and manners of its inhabitants in the vari-
ous cantons, and have also heard the energetic though sim-
ple language of the mountaineers in those parts, my familiar
style of addressing her will not appear surprising.*

When in the middle of the alley of trees, leading from
Siti to Shwytz, she was on the point of quitting the high
road, and directing her course straight towards the town,
apparently for the purpose of avoiding entering the place at
the same time with myself. She then bade me adieu, and
presented me her pretty, swan-white hand ; I drew it to my
lips and impressed a burning kiss upon it.

" Do not do that, dear sir," — she said in a tone of en-
treaty, " it suits not a poor maiden like me."

" Shall I see you again to-morrow ?" — I inquired, gazing
on her black eyes, as if to read in the bottom of her soul,
whether or not she shared with me in any slight degree that
feeling by which I myself was so overwhelmed.

" With all my heart ! if it will give you pleasure," she
replied, in a tone and manner so natural, and so angelically

* In order to explain this passage more clearly, it is necessary to add,
for the information of such readers as may not be acquainted with the Ger-
man language, that the Germans have three modes ot addressing the second
person singular, one of which is du or thou, the style here employed in ad-
dressing Liesli — which is only used to such as are relatives, to children,
confidential friends, or to menials. The different character of the English
and German languages in this respect has not allowed UB to retain this dis-
tinction in the translation. — 7V.

c 3

18 LIESLL,

mild, as could never have been expressed even by the most
refined coquette ; indeed all the arts of coquetry itself could
never have equalled the effect of these pure and simple words.
— " I shall think of you all night long," I said, placing her
beautiful hand upon my deeply agitated heart.

" And I too, shall think of you," she replied smiling, —
" you talk so sweetly, that I could listen to you for ever. It
is already very late, and still I know not ho\v the time has
passed away ; I know you not, and yet in the whole place
there is not one I like to speak with as I do with you." —

" Where and when, then, shall I see you again ?" I asked.

"Alas," she replied, "I know not. The people here,"
continued she confidentially, " are so very curious. Surely,
any one might have listened to our conversation, and yet
should any person know that we have been here alone, what
a stir it would create; although we have talked of nothing,
save of death and of prayer, and the hope of a happier life on
the other side of the grave !" — That I had, however, in the
enthusiasm of my overwhelmed heart, told her, that she
was the most charming girl I had ever beheld — that she ap-
peared to me as an angel from heaven — that in her mild,
though penetrating sloe-black eye there beamed an ocean
of bliss — of all this the cunning girl mentioned not a single
syllable.

" Well, then, where and when shall we see each other
again ?" I repeated earnestly.

"Leave that to fate, dear sir," she replied, calming my
agitated feelings, " if you wish and think half so well or so
kindly of me, as I do of you, you will not, I am sure, desire
that Lvil should be said or thought of me, and this I never
could escape were I found alone with you." —

"But, how then, leave it to fate?" I asked; and threw my
arms around her, for the thought of soon being forced to
leave this angelic creature, without a hope of seeing her again,
seemed to contract my whole nerves together, even to my
very arm, which, by an involuntary impulse, drew her ten-

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 19

derly to my breast. " The day after to-morrow," I said, " I
must leave this place, and then I never — never more shall
see you ! Indeed, I ought to have set out this very morning,
bat the hope of rinding you once more, has kept me back ;
it has led me all the day around your neighbourhood, it has
guided me on the way to the hermiiage, and there, busy in
preparing the herbs on the step of the chapel, I again found you.
Those roots must surely contain some hidden charm to cure
a mind diseased. Ah ! perhaps they may afford relief to me
as well ; for the thought of parting with you, and for ever!
creates within my heart an agonizing pain. May I then
hope, that you will spare me also some, which, prepared by
your sweet hands, cannot but afford a soft and healing balm ?*'
— Thus then, was made my declaration of love in the first
hour of our meeting ! With a city dame, this would have
appeared a mere effusion of gallantry, an ordinary complimen-
tary phrase of little import; but the lovely simple Swiss girl
took my words in that true sense and honourable meaning
with which they had been uttered.

" You have sought for me, you have remained here on my
account !'' — she exclaimed, while an enchanting smile of
flattered self-satisfaction played upon her ruby lips.

I then ingeniously informed her, of the deep impression the
scene on the evening before at the grave of her departed mo-
ther, had made upon my feelings ; of the desire and interest
that had been excited in me to know more about her, and
expressed the happiness 1 felt at having attained this. I con-
fessed to her the admiration and wonder which her virtue and
her charms had created in me, and concluded by intreating
her, in the most urgent manner, to let me once more, the fol-
lowing day, speak with her, if it were only to bid her a long
and last adieu !

The idea of parting is ever attended with a charm which
works upon the feelings and heart in a peculiarly forcible man-
ner. How often does it happen, that in assemblies where a
certain coldness and stiffness of character may have prevailed

20 LIESLI,

the whole evening, at length, when the moment of separation
arrives, these feelings yield to others of a more free and cor-
dial nature. From the most charming and youthful part of
the fair sex, I have ever more particularly loved to take leave,
as they are then inclined to lend a more favourable ear to one's
wishes, and to grant more readily the wished-for boon, which
perhaps at other times might have been sought in vain. The
pain of parting affects woman's heart still deeper than man's ;
she remains behind, a prey to all those acute feelings in
which a faithful and tender bosom delights to indulge.

With a dark presaging feeling, and an inward conviction of
its truth, I accordingly said, that, at the latest, I could only
stay until to-morrow ; for when she saw that only one day
remained between us and our parting, she surely could not
deny it me ; and in this, as it proved, I had judged rightly.

"And do you really leave the day after to-morrow?" she
asked in a tremulous voice, "Ah ! yes, once more in this
life I must see you. Well, then, to-morrow I will see you,
but we must meet far — very far from this neighbourhood, and
very early, when all are asleep. Would you like to mount
the Engelstock, or mount Ruffi, or would you rather ascend
the peak of Rigi ? There I will point out to you, the chalky
Alps and the Nagelflue mountains ; aye, and you shall there
behold objects which will cause you to remember our Canton
all your life."

" Then we will ascend the Rigi," I exclaimed, joyfully, and
the thought of admiring beside this maiden, with rapturous
feelings of delight 'and wonder, God's magnificent creation,
from the pinnacle of the gigantic Rigi, excited sensations of
the most delicious nature.

" Good," said the roguish girl, — " and if you have courage,
I will lead you up over the ladder to the small chapel, dedi-
cated to our Queen of the Snow*j there you will have to
learn to climb and scramble ; but for that, however, you will
be amply rewarded afterwards. You will from thence be-

* Founded in 1689, by Zay of Art, and much visited by Pilgrims.

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURX. 21

hold at once no less than fourteen lakes ; you will see into
the very heart of Swabia, and amidst the whole will rise to
your view mount Jura, the Horns of St. Gothard, and the
ancient town of Zurich, fourteen cantons, innumerable cities^
towns, and villages ; and, high above the clouds, the eternal
snows and glaciers of the glorious and stately Jungfrau — all
will present themselves to your admiring gaze." "But, the
chief and most beautiful object which I shall behold-to mor-
row, you have still forgotten," said I to her, as I pressed her
rosy fingers to my lips.

"The chief and most beautiful object ?" — said she, thought-
fully, as she slowly stroked my face with her hand, without
appearing conscious of it in her absence of mind.

" Yourself, charming girl ; you have not named yourself
to me yet."

" What am /, when the world and the many wonders xve
shall behold from the Rigi are in question. If you would
know my name" — continued she, smiling, " they call me
Liesli ; of poor Swiss Liesli you will not read one word in
all the books that have been written upon our beautiful Al-
pine country, but all will tell you of the mountains and the
lakes — these are known by every one."

" Liesli, my dear, lovely Liesli !"

" Does then my name please you ?"

" Please me ! ah yes ! How willingly would I this night
renounce all hope of rest, could I but have thee near me, to
gaze upon thy lovely countenance ; methinks I could for
ever repeat thy name — Liesli, amiable, lovely Liesli ?"

"Good night, dear sir!" said Liesli, disengaging herself
timidly from my arms, " the night is now wearing on apace,
and we must set out very early to-morrow, else should the
sun have got the start of us, we may have reason soon to
complain both of fatigue and heat when climbing up the
mountain.'1

She then hastily pointed out to my view the spot where
we were to meet the following morning at four o'clock, and

22 LIESLI,

then glided from my aams as swift as an arrow from a
bow.

For a long time after I remained transfixed to the spot,
whilst my eye followed her rapidly proceeding on her way,
and I could distinguish her white, aerial form gliding through
the dark avenues of the trees to a great distance, till, at last,
I could perceive her no more.

I softly pronounced the beloved name of Liesli to the silent
breezes of the night 5 and spreading out my arms towards her
vanishing figure, embraced — the hermit ! I was seized with
terror and astonishment, and retreated back some paces ; for
the contrast between the coarse and heavy garb of the an-
chorite, and that of the^ light-flowing drapery of the lovely
Liesli, was too great, too overpowering.

" Whence come you ?" he enquired, in a tone indicating
dissatisfaction.

"Ah ! is it you venerable father," I exclaimed, recollecting
myself : " I hardly knew you, it is so dark and gloomy
amidst these trees, that one can scarcely distinguish the
nearest object. I have just come from your hermitage, where
I wished to pay you a visit."

"I have been absent all the day," he answered ; "was
any one, besides you, inquiring for me ?"

" Not a soul," I replied, for there was certainly no need to
inform him how in the interim I had been so happily en-
gaged with Liesli. I know no time so favourable for utter-
ing a falsehood, as the hour of night ; it is for that reason
the devil is designated the 'prince of darkness.' The lie
slipped so smoothly over my tongue, that I was really com-
pletely pleased and satisfied with my address.

" I have brought with me something for you," said the old
man, slipping into my hand a small folded paper j " do not,
however, open it till you have returned home, as it is of value,
and here you might lose it. I shall, doubtless, see you to-
morrow morning ?"

"Most certainly, holy father," I replied, in order that he

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 23

might await my coming at the hermitage, instead of wander-
ing out, and thus in the end meet me and Liesli together.
" My thanks for this which you have confided to me, and
which is of such great worth, I will bring with me also to-
morrow," I added ironically, for of what great value could
that be which the poor hermit had put into my hand ; he, for
whom Liesli but a few hours before had gathered herbs, that
he might exchange them for provisions.

" May your sleep be sweet and tranquil," added he, se-
riously, " and pray late and early, that you may not fall into
the snares of temptation, and that the wicked one may have
no power over you. The world is full of suspicion, and there
are many who depend upon the happiness which to-morrow
may bring them, and yet, being often caught in their own net,
fancy all the while it has been laid for them by others. —
Good night, stranger."

With these words he left me, and proceeded on his way to
the hermitage. I, however, hastened after the beloved shadow
of Liesli, but no further traces of her were to be perceived.
No doubt she had long retired to rest, and was enjoying the
sweet repose of innocence when I had reached the inn, where,
excited by my impatient curiosity, I ordered a candle, and
immediately began to examine the contents of the valuable
present which I had received from the hands of the poor
hermit.

What was my surprise, when I beheld my own three pieces
of gold — I was completely petrified ! Was, then, the hermit a
conjuror ? Was Liesli merely a being presented to my ima-
gination by some deceiving malignant spirit ? I shuddered
as I thought that the old emaciated form of the anchorite,
and that of the beautiful Liesli, blooming in all her charms —
might be one and the same ! How came he in possession of
the money ? Now it was I called to mind his words at part-
ing ; what could he mean by saying " those who hope to be
happy on the morrow'' — what should these words portend ?
What could the old man have to do with the blooming girl ?

24 LIESLIj

What had the hermit of Siti to do at the flowery graves at
the foot of the Mythen ? Or, had the young maiden acted
the character of an anchorite ? Did she conceal her youthful
charms beneath the coarse garb of an hermit ? But no, no,
that was impossible ; the recluse was above a head taller than
Liesli, his eyes were sunk and hollow, his voice was tremu-
lous, his skin withered — there was no mask — no illusion
there !

I completely lost myself in the most silly surmises, of which
the most probable appeared to be, that this truly angelic girl
was a supernatural being who had appeared to me. Her
whole appearance shewed marks of so much delicacy. She
was so light in her movements, in her eye there beamed an
expression more than mortal ; her voice so melodious, sounded
to my ears as if coming from an angel in heaven ; her step
had more of the air of a seraph than of an earthly being, and
her smile resembled that given by the painters of the golden
age of art to their angels and cherubs. The form — ah no !
that was purely human, reality itself; her limbs so finely
rounded — her skin so delicately soft and tender ; and the
blood which coloured the veins of her beauteous cheeks
flowed warm and full of life from the heart.

I lay down to rest, but could not sleep. The Mythen,
which, from my bed, I could plainly perceive towering to the
black heavens above, seemed to totter and tremble; I could
not close my eyes, for at each moment I imagined I beheld
it descending to bury me in its ruins, without either flowers
or wreath to decorate my grave. At length, towards morning,
I fell asleep ; overfatigued, I exceeded the appointed hour
of the meeting.

Hastily rising, and dressing myself, I flew to the spot,
where I arrived breathless — fifty-five minutes past the time !
The Rigi was there, but Liesli — not ! I waited at the place of
meeting, reproaching myself severely, forming a host of suppo-
sitions and doubts. I calculated upon a thousand difficulties and
hindrances, and that, too, during a fuli and anxiovs hour. The

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 25

ancient Rigi still remained stationary before my sight, but
the beautiful and charming Liesli came not.

This, then, is the work of the hermit, I said to myself; he
is the author of this painful disappointment, recalling his
words to my recollection. Yesterday I fancied to myself the
happiness I should experience this morning — but now I felt
convinced that the hermit had laid the net in which I was
caught, a net of the most unaccountable doubt and mystery.
Well, indeed, might he pronounce his prophecy, for all this
was, no doubt, of his contrivance: he it was, and he alone,
who had prepared for me this harrowing disappointment,
and thus so suddenly and so -completely blasted all the plea-
sure I had anticipated in ascending the Rigi with Liesli.
The small ladder which I was to have ascended with her,
had appeared to my fancy as Jacob's ladder of angels ; in
imagination I had climbed with her to the very heavens, and
having arrived at that eternal sojourn, had drawn the ladder
up after us, and contemplated from the abode of angels the
busy scene of tumult and agitation below, utterly regardless
of all that was passing there.

But now, alas ! 1 found myself standing awake before
mount Kigi, on the summit of « hich mountain, where the rising
sun saluted with his rays the great cross, I had hoped,^ thus
elevated nearer to heaven, in the presence of God, and in
the face of free Switzerland, her native soil, to enfold in
purest love uiy dear and lovely Liesli. I would have besought
her to be mine, to share wjth me in my joys and sorrows;
and when recalled to dust by my Maker's decree, I would have
asked her also to bestrew my grave with flowers, as she did
her mother's, and for me too as fervently to invoke the mercy
of the Supreme Being.

All this I had thought and determined within myself during
the night, when, after much reflection, I was at length con-
vinced that Liesli was no supernatural, but a human being ;
and now the moment which was to have crowned my happi-

D

26 LIESLI,

ness, of which I would have summoned all nature to be a
witness, was flown away — perhaps for ever !

I felt myself overwhelmed with the bitterness of my dis-
appoinied feelings. Where was I to seek Liesli ? Where
should I find her ? Had she been here at all ? Or had she
perhaps concluded from my delay that I would not come r I
put a thousand questions to myself, and was only the more
chagrined and vexed, both with myself, with Liesli, and the
anchorite.

At length, I resolved that the hermit, above all, should ex-
plain to me how he had yesterday obtained possession of the
three gold pieces, though it could naturally be from no other
person hut Liesli herself. I then wished to interrogate him
further respecting the young girl — to learn in what connec-
tion he stood towards her, and then, should I discover that he
had any influence over her, I would candidly avow my views
and intentions.

I hurried back to Shvvytz, and from thence by Siti to the
hermitage ; the recluse, however, was not there. I awaited
his return at the door of his cell the whole of the day without
any nourishment, until late at night.

In vain ! Completely exhausted and disappointed I re-
turned home. The whole day long 1 had flattered myself
with the certain hope, at the least rustling of the leaves, of
beholding the light form of Liesli issue forth, but a thousand
times was I deceived. Whoever has felt the torment of love,
and has passed in his life but ojie hour iu waiting for the
object he adores, such a one alone can form an idea how
tedious and how long this agonizing day appeared to me.

Late at night I repaired again to the church-yard. I en-
tered the chapel where I had beheld Liesli for the first time,
and then I visited the grave of her departed mother, but the
object of my search was no where to be met with. The
night was beautiful and serene ; the evening dew refreshed
the flowers with which the graves were bestrewed, and per-

THE MAID OF SOLOTHUBN. 27

fumed the air with the most delicious odours; the atmos-
phere was unagitated by a single zephyr ; all around there
reigned the deepest silence, whilst quick successive flashes
darted across the firmanent and illumined at intervals the
heavens above. Oh ! how did I wish at this moment, that
the form of my sweet .Liesli might appear to bless my sight !
I painted her in my imagination reclining in my arms; the
reflection of the distant lightning seemed to add new lustre to
her eyes ; enclasped by her soft and beautiful arm, I felt the
beating of her heart against my agitated breast, whilst from
her sweet lips, I inhaled life and love ; but she came not ! —
Melancholy and depressed, I retraced my steps back to
the inn.

The following day I recommenced the same fruitless and
unavailing search. To-morrow, I thought, I will once more
proceed to the desolate hermitage, and should it then be still
deserted, nothing shall deter me from seeking her myself; the
place is small, and surely I shall find some one from whom I
may gain some intelligence respecting her ; for, what I wished
to say on the top of mount Rigi, I can as easily impart to her
in her own dwelling, at its foot ; there I will declare my
thoughts and wishes. I again passed the whole of the day at
the hermit's door, but he remained altogether invisible !

I now considered myself as free from all that restraint and
obligation, which, though I knew not why, 1 imagined I
owed to the hermit ; he had until now appeared to me as pos-
sessing great power and influence over Liesli's action. She
had come to receive his advice, she had given him my three
pieces of gold, for the purpose of returning them to me j
some connection, therefore, must exist between them. If I
had succeeded in gaining the hermit over to my side, then
was Liesli mine. Some such anticipation had entered my
mind, and it was this hope, and this alone, which had made
me wait three successive days. Whether the hermit had
concealed himself from me, or whether he were really absent,

D 2

28 LIESLI,

what was that now to me ? I had renounced all farther in-
lercourse — 1 had done with him. One short moment more
in the church- yard, and should I again be disappointed in
finding Liesli there, I resolved to ascertain her residence of
my landlady ; my patience was now indeed completely ex-
hausted. I was determined to put my purpose into imme-
diate execution, and thus finally attain the object of my
wishes. I hastened to the cemetery — but Liesli was not
there ! How changeable, how versatile a being is man ! 1
felt inwardly happy at not finding her ! Supported and en-
couraged by three successive failures of my fond hopes, I
began to persuade myself that I had a right — that I was au-
thorized, nay, obliged to seek her.

In her dwelling, unobserved by the whole world, such con-
ference soiled far better than on the summit of the Rigi,
5/86 feet above the surface of the earth, at the brink of a
deep, tremendous precipice, the aspect of which filled the soul
with shuddering awe ; or, than in this solitary abode of the
dead, whose graves but ill attuned with the feelings of youth-
ful lovers.

The hour I had proposed passing at the chapel, the last
hour was expired ! I arose from the low wall where I had
been seated, and was on the point of retiring, when among
the graves, even in the midst of the darkness of night, I could
distinguish a black figure advancing towards me. My blood
ran cold through my veins, for suddenly, concealed in his
cowl, stood before me — the hermit !

"You were at my dwelling?" he inquired, in a tone of
voice which sounded as if issuing from the tombs around us.

"Yes, Tenerable father," I replied, gazing at the myste-
rious being before me with wonder and astonishment. How
could he have learned that I was inquiring for him ? Why
did he come now, just at the moment when I was on the
point of seeking Liesli ? Whence could he come ? It
seemed as if some secret, subterraneous passage communicated

THE MAID OF SOLOTIIURN. 29

between the hermitage and the church-yard. " I have
awaited your coming these three days," I continued, " but
in vain."

" I know it," he replied, in a milder tone, " a herdsman
perceived you, and informed me of it. You wish for further
information respecting the maiden whom you met at the
steps of the chapel. What is the orphan to you ? But an-
swer me not, for the truth does not always proceed from your
lips. You seek the maiden, but you may spare yourself that
needless trouble — you will not find her. Her mother, in her
dying moments, charged me to watch over her happiness and
welfare. On the very morning when you imagined you
would climb mount Rigi, Liesli departed. — She is gone lo
her relations, whom I had previously informed of her mo-
ther's death, and from whom, after an interval of twelve
months, I received money and instructions to send the orphan
to them, provided with the necessary attendance. On the
evening when you came to me, and met with Liesli, I had
gone to the town for the purpose of making the proper ar-
rangements for her departure. When you gave her the three
gold pieces, she knew nothing of her intended journey ; she
only received intelligence of it from me on the following
morning before day-break. Hearing, after leaving you in the
alley of trees, the sound of money in her basket, she most
naturally concluded that you alone could be the donor, and
therefore delivered it to me, in order to return it to you. In
the art of giving, you have as yet made but very little pro-
gress ; your present has humiliated and shamed, more than it
has pleased or gratified the maiden."

" What, Liesli gone ?" I exclaimed " Ah ! tell me vene-
rable father, whither is she gone ? If you are indeed her
friend, then tell me, for it concerns her own happiness. My
intentions are good and honourable, for I wish to offer her
my heart and hand, with all my fortune."

" You," said the hermit, half ironically, "you, who have
only known her a very few hours, you would offer her your

30 LIESLI,,

whole life ? How do you know, whether this virtuous girl,
who is so rich in all the gifts of person and intellect, holds
you worthy of her love ? Do you then think that with your
despicable money all may be procured ?"

"You do not seem to wish me well, venerable father."

" I can never wish them well, who seek to deceive me by
falsehood ! On that evening, when I met you amidst the
trees, I asked you whether any other persons had been in-
quiiing for me at the hermitage during my absence ? 'Not a
soul !' you replied, and yet, but five minutes before, my up-
rigr Liesli, who never stained her lips with an untruth, had
told me that she herself had been with you the whole of the
evening ! I asked you if you would come to me the follow-
ing morning ? ' Yes, with pleasure,' you replied, although
you had already agreed with the maiden, as she informed me,
to ascend mount Rigi with her that same morning. What
had I done, to merit such deception from you ? Whoever
lies will also steal ; should I not act very foolishly were I
to tell the thief, where I had placed the treasure confided to
my care ?"

Those two unfortunate lies ! I could have torn my tongue
from my head, so vexed and mortified was I. — My greatest
wish at this moment was, to have been able to reply with
feelings of conscious innocence and indignation to the hermit,
who had thus deprived me of my earthly happiness — my
adorable Liesli ; but this was impossible, for I felt too well
how justly and truly he had spoken.

" Well," said I, at length, completely disconcerted, " if you
are indeed such a severe minister of truth, which 1 ever
highly honour and revere, tell me, without reserve, how
Liesli expressed herself about me ; for to me, glowing as my
heart does with such a pure love for her, it cannot be in-
different to learn, if I may hope and depend upon a reciprocal
attachment."

" You," returned he, after some hesitation, " are the first
acquaintance she has formed as yet. To this circumstance

THE MAID OF SOLOTHUBN. 31

alone you must attribute a confidence and friendship towards
you, more perhaps than was proper for her to shew."

My vanity took advantage of this concession of the hermit,
and I concluded that Liesli was not wholly indifferent to me.

"Once more," I inquired somewhat bolder, " can you not
inform me of the maiden's present abode ?"

" No !" he answered, in an abrupt and decisive tone.

" Consider it well, holy father ; you will have to answer for
this denial at some future period, both to the maiden, and
also to your own conscience."

"You hold yourself at a very high price," he replied, "and,
doubtless, you imagine that it will be impossible for Liesli to
exist, without you or your dollars. Liesli may, perhaps, at
this very moment be far richer than yourself. — You are still
young," he added after a pause, in a milder tone, " you are
no doubt infatuated by Liesli's beauty, and are perhaps thus
led to a determination, which, at a later period, you will have
cause to repent. Should you, at the expiration of a year, still
think of her as at this moment, then come again, and we will
communicate together further upon the subject."

I remained for some time ruminating whether it might not
be possible to persuade the old man into a more reasonable
stipulation, when he drew from between the folds of his gown,
an Alpine rose, most carefully secured — this he presented to
me, and said with a smile, " You have just now doubted the
uprightness of my conscience; to prove your injustice I pre-
sent you with this rose which Liesli sends you as a token of
remembrance. She plucked it on the road side before we
separated, and bedewed it with her tears. I was obliged to
promise her that I would faithfully deliver it into your hands.
Now, do you doubt my honour ?"

"No, no !'' I exclaimed joyfully, pressing the rose to my
lips, — " and that you may not doubt my honour, I will not
even wish to know where Liesli is, but after the twelve
months are expired, I will come and demand her from your
hands."

32 LIESLI,

"That, time will shew," replied the hermit calmly, and
bidding me farewell, requested me not to come again to him,
as he would be absent for a considerable time.

"Father!" I exclaimed with emotion, "what if we never
see each other again ! Twelve months is a long time ; you
are old and stricken in years, God may call you to himself, and
then what shall I do ?"

" Apply to the proper civil authority in this town where
my papers will be found after my death/ they will furnish you
with more particular information." — With these words he
presented me his hand with a manner and air, as mild and
kind as at first had been harsh and unfriendly. It appeared as
if he had some presentiment that we should never meet again,
which alas ! proved subsequently but too well founded.

" God be with you," said he, mildly; and, blessing me, " may
he let the light of his countenance shine upon you, and be
favourable to your wishes of deserving the love of the virtuous
Liesli. — Amen, Amen !" Upon this he left me, proceeding
by the road across the graves till I saw him — no more ! He
was now gone — Liesli was gone — I knew not even who she
was, and I had one whole year yet to wait !

Now that she had left, my enquiries could not affect her
reputation, and I hastened back to my inn with the most
anxious curiosity. I intended first of all to question my land-
lady, a very talkative woman, about the hermit, and then I
imagined the conversation would naturally turn upon Liesli.

The Anchorite, I found, stood very high in her estimation,
and was greatly respected ; his advice was sought by all the
afflicted ; he devoted himself to the service of every one, of
whatever station, with unwearied zeal and activity ; his course
of life was pure and unstained, his reputation known to all
around, both far and near.

I listened attentively to every word, and with shame I con-
fessed to myself how easily I had yielded to suspicions un-
favourable to the character of the hermit, and how much I
had wronged him in harbouring a doubt as to his real worth

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 33

and honesty of principle. To me the hermitage had seemed
too favourably situated and too well adapted for pursuing,
under the mask of sanctity, a very different plan in private.
" Strangers or such persons," continued my landlady, " with
whom he felt dissatisfied, he treated in a distant and harsh
manner, but such as he knew, and was satisfied with, what-
ever their condition, he addressed in a more confidential and
friendly tone." This reminded me how laconic his manner
had been, at the commencement of our conversation, and how
brief were his replies; and I felt satisfied and pleased to
think, that he had afterwards shewn me more confidence aad
kindness.

" Is the young person whom I have sometimes seen in his
company a relation of his ?" I inquired, describing Liesli's
appearance so exactly, that any person who had seen her but
once in their life, could not have failed to recognize her again
in the faithful picture I drew of her.

" Aye, aye," continued the landlady, with a knowing smile,
" there you would no doubt like to take the hermit's place !
Don't you think she is a beautiful girl ? Here, in Shwytz,
we have many pretty girls, it is true, but not one o lovely.
You doubtless mean Liesli, with the large black eyes, and
such a sweet, amiable countenance ?"

" Yes," I replied, overjoyed at being able to converse with
some one on the sweet topic of my Liesli, " who, who is
she, pray ?"

" Why, nobody can tell. On the first of October, so far
as I can remember, during the unhappy period of the war
in 1799, when Suwarow and Mortier, with Soult and Mas-
sena, laid waste the whole country with their armies, a most
furious and bloody skirmish took place in the valley of Mutta.
About a mile from hence is situated, as you no doubt know,
the bridge of Ibach. The Russians had advanced as far as
this bridge, where, however, they were surprised by General
Lecourbe, who having landed at Brunnen, fell upon their rear,
and put them all to rout. It was shortly after the termina-

34 LIESLI,

tion of this combat that they brought hither a young and
beautiful woman, whose husband, an officer of high rank, had
been left dead on the field of battle. This, it appears, had so
much affected her, as to drive her, in the first agony of the
moment, to attempt her life. Whether he had been in the
French, Russian, or Austrian service, was never ascertained,
for the mere mention of her husband, to whom no doubt she
had been most tenderly attached, had the most alarming effect
upon her feelings. Many well-disposed people here, pitying
her situation, endeavoured to sooth her by every possible at-
tention. She obtained her livelihood by giving instruction
in the French and Italian languages, as well as in music,
though this was barely sufficient to keep her from want. It
was reported that she came from Solothurn, though her friends
had dropped all further intercourse with her, which neglect
she had probably brought upon herself by marrying an officer
without their consent. About six months afterwards she gave
birth to that same Liesli, who it appears you have already seen.
Her mother devoted all her time to her education, and to
instilling into her mind virtuous and pious principles ; indeed
her child was so beloved by every one in the place, that had she
even been related to any one of our families she could not have
been dearer to us. Now, since her mother is dead, she has
been under the protection of the hermit, who has provided for
her, and may God bless the orphan, and grant her, all her life,
that happiness she so richly merits." Involuntarily I squeezed
the hand of the landlady, with a feeling of gratitude, fcr the
pious prayer she had just uttered for the sweet girl, and felt
overjoyed at hearing so much good proceed from an impartial
mouth respecting her, though I was still ignorant of what I
so particularly wished to be informed.

When alone in my apartment, I tormented myself in form-
ing every possible conjecture on her present abode and fate.
The hermit, then, had provided for her merely from duty and
friendship, and from motives purely disinterested. I certainly
considered myself capable of doing any thing for such an

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 35

angel, but I never could believe that another would do the
same, and felt jealous at the thought that Liesli had con-
fided her happiness to his hands and not to mine. My blood
rushed to my cheeks ; I resolved to set out immediately for
the hermitage and should I not succeed by gentle means, the
mouth of a loaded pistol presented to his breast should prove
a sufficient inducement for him to confess where he had placed
my treasure. Simple fool that I was, how had I allowed
myself to be duped and misled by his artful sophistry ! How
must he laugh at my simplicity and inexperience! Who
knows what were his views or intentions with respect to the
maiden. Age does not always withstand folly : so long as
no one had stood in his way he had left the young girl to
herself, but now that the unsuspecting creature had, perhaps,
in her simplicity betrayed to him her partiality for me, he tears
her from my arms, confines her in some subterraneous corner
of his hermitage, and retains her there a prisoner until I may
have turned my back upon the frontiers of the Canton, which,
having once reached, I may then travel as far as I like, seek
as long as I please, and torment myself as much as I choose —
to him that will be quite immaterial. He will only laugh at
me in his sleeve, while Liesli remains his, with all those many
thousand charms, which would only have bloomed for me,
had not the dissembling monk obtruded himself between us.

With the dawn of day I stood before the door of the her-
mitage. I knocked, pushed, and stamped, calling out a thou-
sand times the name of Liesli — but in vain, no answer was
returned, not a sound was heard. At length a herdsman's
boy, attracted by the noise I made, descended from the moun-
tain above, and informed me that the hermit n-as gone upon a
long journey, and, as he had told all his acquaintances in the
neighbourhood, would not return for some months.

Liesli was thus then lost to me ! There were no means,
no hopes of regaining her ! Switzerland had now no longer
any charms for me ; I had climbed enough amongst her moun-
tains and glaciers j I was as weary of sailing along her beau-

36 LIESLI,

tiful lakes, as of tasting her wines and cheese. To her beg-
gars 1 had given alms, and her innkeepers had enriched them-
selves at my expense ; her maidens — but not one word of the
women of Switzerland ! Each time when the discourse fell
upon them, and I was questioned as to my opinion of them,
and how I liked them — my heart was cut in twain. Away,
away, therefore, from that country in which the greatest
earthly happiness had smiled upon me, only to disappear,
with increased and merciless scorn ! — Yet, 1 had no sooner
passed the gigantic, heaven-piercing Alps, than I felt myself
attracted thither again by some irresistible desire, for well did
my heart in secret tell me that Liesli must still be among
her native mountains, else whence could this nameless feeling
proceed ?

The thought alone of once more returning to Switzerland
after the expiration of the year, sustained my sinking spirits.
I already enjoyed in imagination the pleasure I should expe-
rience on my visit to the hermit, and should he attempt to
escape me by the least evasion, when summoned to fulfil his
promise, he certainly should never escape my hands alive.

In the mean time, after my return home to my friends, I
had to endure the torment of all their sneers and jeers. " Well,
to be sure," said they, scornfully, behind my back j " now
that he has seen the world a little, there is nothing here which
is good enough for the gentleman. Whenever we, who con-
tentedly remain at home, bless our stars to think that we have
such a happy land to live and enjoy ourselves in, and which,
surely, God has not in his goodness rendered quite a desert,
there sits master Hermann, turning up his nose in contempt,
as it our high hills in front of thz windmill-gate were, in his
opinion, not worth looking at. Well, dear heaven, they are
certainly not glaciers ; but pray do potatoes grow upon his
favourite ice-tipped hill, as they do here round the windmill ?
Why the man will at last become a glacier himself, he is so
cold and frosty in his manner ! "

I let the good people talk on, and whenever anxious to

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 37

procure myself a real reviving feeling of joy, I frequently and
secretly used to retire, bending my steps towards the top of
the highest of their potatoe hills, and, turning myself to-
wards the distant land where dwelt my Liesli, and addressing
myself to the zephyrs playing around me, I besought them to
convey to her my affectionate greetings, and most ardent wishes.
Three months were still wanting to complete the appointed
time — the year, at the end of which I was to renew my en-
quiries at the hermitage j when, just at this period, an obstacle
presented itself, so as to render it doubtful whether or not I
should attain the object of my most anxious desires. The
unwelcome hindrance which waylaid mt' so unexpectedly, was
nothing more or less than a skin of parchment, covered and
decorated with chancery scrawls and calligraphic figures, bear-
ing my nomination from government to a situation at once
honourable and lucrative. My friends congratulated, whilst
they at the same time envied me, though I would most will-
ingly have parted with place, and every honour and title it
might bring with it, for a trifle, nay, even gratis ; for now,
no longer must I think of a journey to Switzerland ! What
would the prince, what would nay superiors in office say
to my requesting leave of absence for three months, just
after my appointment ? I did not, however, altogether re-
nounce the hope of obtaining it ; love surmounts every ob-
stacle. I resolved to inform the minister candidly, that I
intended to marry, and request permission to go and fetch
my bride home from her native country.

But what if I did not succeed in finding Liesli ? And,
should I return home without a wife, would not the minister
most naturally conclude I had received a refusal ? Might not
this be extremely injurious to me in my new appointment ?
Ought I to explain to a man of such high importance, buried
amidst his diplomatic duties, the tale of my love to the Swiss
maiden, and my adventures with her and the hermit? Yet, in
spite of this reasoning, I had just determined on putting mv
plan into execution, when I received, quite unexpectedly, the

38 LIESLI,

most decisive orders to proceed immediately with dispatches
from my court to that of St. Petersburgh.

St. Petersburgh and Switzerland, separated by a distance of
four hundred leagues from each other ! Were I to go to
Russia, then must my Liesli be for ever lost to me; the
hermit would then regard all the professions which I had made
as the mere childish effusions of a romantic brain, and, ac-
cordingly, conclude from my absence that I had really for-
gotten her. Besides, in this interval, more than twenty offers
might be made to her, and her heart be continually besieged
by suitors ; and could I blame her for giving her hand to ano-
ther ? If I went to Switzerland I must previously demand
my dismission, and thus renounce all the brilliant prospects
which presented themselves to me, for I could not possibly
furnish any pretext whatever sufficiently strong, to excuse my
declining to execute the mission confided to my charge. This
appointment, too, was so distinguished and honourable, and
attended with such certain prospect of rapid and sure ad-
vancement, that it would have been acting completely con-
trary to every principle of honour and advantage, had I en-
deavoured to avoid undertaking the journey.

Still, in order not to sacrifice the happiness of my life, namely,
the possession of Liesli's hand, to the service of ambition, I
devised, in the anxiety of my feelings, a desperate remedy.
Laugh not, ye happier mortals, who are blessed with the
dear presence of your sweet fair ones, at the plan I was forced
to pursue.

I wrote to my good landlady in Shwytz, and made her my
confidant. I informed her of all that had passed between
Liesli, the hermit, and myself, entreating her to deliver to
the former the letter I enclosed, or, should she not be
acquainted with her abode, to consign it to the care of the
hermit.

In the enclosed letter I offered to Liesli, in a brief but
aftectionate manner, my hand and heart, as a sincere pledge of
eternal love. I sealed the letter, and committing it to the

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 39

post-office, congratulated myself upon my dexterity in thus
managing my affairs, and, in some measure tranquillized in
mind, I set out for St. Petersburg!].

I determined within myself not to bestow one look upon
any female whatever ; no, not in the whole of that immense
empire, with all its various provinces in Asia and America,
should a lover be found so true and faithful as myself. I
inwardly vowed that my heart should return with me un-
affected, and yet — I gave it there away !

On the celebration of the nuptials of the Grand Duke
Nicholas Pavvlowitsch with the Princess Alexandrina Feo-
dorowna, I attended the whole of the ceremony, commencing
with the] marriage to the ball in the saloon of St. George.
Before the end of the ball the Emperor, accompanied by the
Empress, repaired to the palace of the newly married couple ;
they were followed by the young and amiable pair, the
Empress mother, and the whole court in grand gala.

It was indeed one of the most brilliant sights I had ever
seen in the whole of my life. The illuminated streets
swarmed with the crowding population ; the throng of gazers,
many of whom, from a true hearty feeling, might perhaps
have drank a glass too much to the health of the young couple,
was truly impenetrable. At the moment when the court was
passing, the cries, the exclamations, and the hurrahs of the
pressing crowd had reached their greatest height. The com-
mand of the police officers to keep order and make room,
only added to, and finally completed, the confusion and
distress.

All were squeezing, screaming, and pressing against each
other. For myself, I had received into my arms, through the
pressure of the crowd, a stout, coarse, market-woman, who
was immediately followed by the weight of a fat, heavy Fin-
lander upon my poor toes, a Droschki driver thrust his elbows
into my ribs, a long-legged Polish count lay upon my back,
and to end all, a little Samojad-looking chambermaid sup-
ported her elbows upon my loins. Thus pressed and attacked

E 2

40 LIESLI,

on all sides, I was carried on by the crowd, in spite of all
opposition, when suddenly another rush of the multitude
threw into my arms a young and beautiful lady — that lady
was Liesli ! I uttered an exclamation of joy and surprise,
which, however, no sooner escaped me, than a second rush
separated us again ! Maddened and desperate, I threw off
the market-woman, turned over the Finlander, kicked down
the Droschki driver, and upsetting the whole group, with the
little chambermaid to boot, most strenuously endeavoured to
free myself from their fangs, and to dash forward and regain
hold of Liesli ; but in vain! They clung to me like bees,
and instead of herself, I succeeded only in gaining — her
shawl ! I called out Liesli ! Liesli ! but my voice was com-
pletely lost amongst the multitude, the charming apparation
had vanished from my sight ! My way was in fact so com-
pletely obstructed by the crowds of Kalmucks, Wogulians,
Barabinzelians, Tunguselians and Tschetschewzelians, that
nothing further could be heard or seen — and I thanked heaven
that I had been so happy as to catch even the shawl.

A Kalmuck, standing near me, and who had seen howl
had effected this seizure, how much trouble and exertion the
attaining of this prize from amidst the crowd had cost me,
secretly gave a knowing wink and grinned at me, as if to
testify his apprpbation, and to applaud the address I had
shewn. At this moment, also, pressing his way through the
immense legions of the various semi-barbarous tribes and
nations under Russian domination, appeared a supple French-
man, who gave me to understand, pretty intelligibly, his in-
clination to purchase the rag, if I would part with it at a
moderate price ; as I, however, pretended not to hear or un-
derstand his debasing offer, the crafty knave mumbled between
his teeth as he left me, about the police being very near at
hand, and that they would soon know how to deal with those
polite people who spared the ladies the trouble of carrying
home their shawls. This hint, however, I did not allow
escape me without profiting by it, for, indeed, what had I further

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 41

to do here ? Liesli would not certainty return again. I de-
termined upon pursuing her, but where should I find her
amidst this throng of half a million of people — and in the
middle of the night too ? I had happily succeeded in escap-
ing from the claws of the Frenchman and the police — but no
where could my eyes in any direction meet the form of
Liesli. Fatigued and half dead with exhaustion, I returned
home, with my prize under my arm.

My landlord's family, who had also been to witness the
grand spectacle, had just returned: I showed them the [shawl,
and related how I had obtained it. The wife and daughters
held up their hands in wonder and admiration at the splen-
dour of the pattern and fineness of the texture. In their
estimation it was worth at least a thousand ducats, and they
congratulated me upon my good fortune. But at this I was
only the more melancholy and alarmed, particularly as they
went on praising the real Turkish texture, its softness, and
the tasteful arrangement of colours which it displayed, for
now I felt convinced that the noble and graceful creature
that had been thrown into my arms by the crowd, had not
been my Liesli ; for, how could that poor girl, who, but a
short twelvemonth before, had held her hands before her eyes
to avoid the sight of the precipice, which, when contemplating
her helpless situation, seemed to yawn before her, how, I say,
could she have come to be the owner of such a splendid arti-
cle ? How, indeed, could she have come here at all ?

I could hardly close my eyes the whole of the night. At
one moment I wished to persuade myself that it was indeed
Liesli whom I had seen j then again, I would fain have
wished it might be a mistake 5 for, were it herself, no doubt
she was either become the wife of some very rich man, or else
she had acquired the dreadful art of selling her angelic charms
— but no ! I exclaimed to myself— I will not entertain such
a thought for a moment — it is not possible ! — That young
girl — that innocent creature, who but twelve months ago, so

E3

42 LIESLI,

devoutly and artlessly prayed at her mother's grave, can
never have sunk so low.

The following morning I made it my first business to drive
to the newspaper-office, for the purpose of inserting an ad-
vertisement, and making publicly known my having found
the shawl, and informing the owner, where and in whose
hands it was to be met with upon application. Thus, there
was no doubt the riddle would be soon solved, for I had
determined not to surrender the shawl into any other hands
but those of the lady from whose neck I had snatched it, and,
indeed, I found the mystery already explained, and myself
most bitterly disappointed.

The publisher had scarcely cast his eyes upon my adver-
tisement, when, with much pleasure depicted upon his coun-
tenance, he informed me, that the very moment before my
arrival, a servant in the household of Count Barczikoffhad
brought him an advertisement for insertion, in which he had
promised the finder of the shawl two hundred rubles as a
reward, to which was added, a particular description of it.
The shawl proved to be the same, and, therefore, not
my Swiss girl, but a Countess Barczikoff was the owner
of my honourably acquired property ! The residence of the
count was also most particularly described, near the Kasan
Church in the Newski-Line ; and, accordingly, without de-
lay, but with a desponding heart, I proceeded thither.

From the grandeur of the building outside, and its mag-
nificence internally, I immediately perceived, that the lady of
the house might well possess a shawl of a thousand ducats
value. I announced myself as the finder of the prize which
I brought with me, and trembled with sad apprehension at
the thought of beholding the image of my Swiss maiden.
With the most intense anxiety I looked towards the door
through which the owner of my precious booty was to enter,
and which, opening at length, did indeed introduce to my
impatient gaze the well-known form of — Liesli ! She knew
me immediately j the crimson blush of surprize and astonish-

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 43

ment spread itself over her beauteous countenance, and a
stifled cry of joy was the welcome of her heart to me. I for-
got St. Petersburgh and Russia altogether} I felt myself
transported again to Switzerland. I thought no more of the
Countess Barczikoff; I had no other than my Liesli, my
sweet adorable Liesli before me. — We put a thousand ques-
tions to each other in one breath, to which we neither of us
waited for a reply, and it was not until the expiration of half
an hour that we could succeed in calming ourselves suffi-
ciently to communicate to each other the events of the past
year.

The father of Liesli, the only son of Count Barczikoff, had
served in the army which went to Switzerland, where he fell
in a severe conflict, at the bridge of Ibach. The count had
never sanctioned the marriage of his son with Liesli s mother,
who was a poor Swiss girl from Solothurn, and accordingly,
on that accouut, would never acknowledge her as his daughter-
in-law. The hermit, however, who had, previously to her
mother's death, received from herself the full particulars of
Liesli's family affairs, announced to the count her death, and
succeeded so far in touching his heart, that, enfeebled as he
was by age and declining health, he no longer viewed the
prejudices of birth with the same jealous eye as heretofore,
and, at length, decided on sending for Liesli, acknowledging
her as his grandchild, and the heiress to his large and exten-
sive possessions. Thus he endeavoured to repay with kind-
ners to the child, the severity he had shewn to the mother.
The hermit, as was his manner, had never mentioned a single
word of all this to Liesli. On the very morning that she had
agreed to ascend Mount Rigi with me, he had come early, at
two o'clock, and awoke her from sleep, desiring her to follow
him. She had candidly confessed to him the appointment she
had made with me that morning, but he strictly opposed her
meeting me.

Here my little countess skipped over the affair of the pieces
of gold, which, in conjunction with the story I had told the

44 LIESLI,

hermit the evening before, served doubtless to irritate him,
and I, myself, could find no possible ground for touching
upon that well-meant piece of folly. He was, accordingly,
angry and displeased, and had declared most positively that
no meeting of the kind should or could take place j she must
follow him j he was appointed by her mother as her tutor
and guardian, and, therefore, thus empowered he must insist
upon her unhesitating obedience. She, accordingly, accom-
panied him to the first stage, from whence they drove to
Zurich, where, at the Sword Inn, he committed her to the
care of a young lady, who was in readiness to travel with her
to Russia, in the capacity of governess. It was then that he
imparted to his ward the particulars of her situation and fate,
and, greeting her as Countess Barczikoff, informed her, that her
grandfather was awaiting her arrival with the utmost impatience.

The hermit had already, through means of a banker at
Zurich, provided for clothes, equipage, attendance, and every
thing necessary for her, according to the desire and command
of the old count ; and, at the expiration of one hour, the
hermit accompanied the astonished girl to the carriage, where,
she could hardly recover from the stupor into which this
sudden change in her situation had thrown her.

"And from this moment," I exclaimed, "were the ladder,
and Mount Rig5, and your poor, disconsolate friend entirely
forgotten !"

" No, no !" replied the lovely girl, with the same true Swiss
candour which she had always displayed, " on the very morn-
ing of my departure I besought the hermit from the carriage
to give to you — did he not deliver it ?"

"What, the Alpine rose ?"— 1 exclaimed, with a grateful
feeling of rapture, " Ah ! yes, that I still retain — never has
it been out of my possession j it ever has been, and ever shall
remain sacred near my heart. But did he perform alt that he
was requested to do ?" I inquired, in a tone of eager im-
patience, devouring with my eyes the beauteous mouth from
which I so anxiously awaited a reply.

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURN. 45

She appeared embarrassed, and for some time hesitated to
reply j but as I still continued to press her, with a downcast
look she said, " I observed the venerable man was not alto-
gether prepossessed in your favour, and I, therefore, en-
treated him not to feel displeased with you, and insisted upon
his informing you, where I was, should he meet with you,
and also upon his writing to inform me, whether he had
spoken with you."

Scarcely was she able to give utterance to the last few
words ; a burning crimson overspread her whole countenance,
which appeared to me as the aurora of all my hopes and hap-
piness. I was, as it were, standing upon the pinnacle of my
most ardent wishes.

"And has the hermit written?" I asked, as I pressed her
hand to my palpitating heart.

She silently nodded with her sweet Madonna head, in the
affirmative.

"And did he write all? Every thing }"

The countess replied to this at length, by raising her eyes
towards me with an indescribable expression of sweetness, in
which the softest confusion was mingled. I threw myself at
the feet of the angel with a feeling of the highest delight.

"The year, the term fixed by the hermit, has at length ex-
pired," I said. "During this period you, and you alone, my
adorable Liesli, have lived in my heart — it is now for you to
decide 5 let me then know my fate."

She was, however, only able to reply by tears of tenderness}
she entreated me to rise, and she then continued, seriously
and solemnly : —

"My dearly beloved friend, you are the first and only being
for whom my heart has pleaded j you swore love and fidelity
to me when I was poor, and upon you I will rely j in you I
will confide. It was in the little chapel of Shwytz, and whilst
engaged in prayer, that I first beheld you : at the grave of
my dear, unhappy mother, I first spoke with you. From that
time the silent mountain became dearer to me — then it was

46 LIESLI,

that I first began to comprehend and feel the power of the
Creator of the mighty universe — then it was I began to ap-
preciate the wonderful productions of his hand, and viewed
the scene of nature around me with feelings hitherto unknown
and unfelt. Every thing I beheld appeared to me in a new
and different light ; and now I acknowledge the goodness of
the wonderful providence which has brought us here together
at the very extremity of Europe, as if to prove that pure and
faithful love will meet with an asylum every where. Oh !
my dear and blessed mother, should your invisible spirit still
deign to hover near me, oh ! bless I beseech you our union."

Overpowered and fainting, she sank upon my deeply
agitated breast, whilst the big tears, rolling down her beau-
teous cheeks, bespoke the agitation of her heart, and denied
all further utterance. I was on the point of enfolding the
sweet form of my betrothed bride within my arms, with the
most rapturous delight, when the side-door opened, and in
stepped — her grandfather ! Well might the old count feel
alarmed and astonished at finding his granddaughter in the
arms of a stranger ! I trembled with fear, as if the angel of
paradise, with his flaming sword, stood before me.

My beautiful betrothed, however, having now recovered her
strength, immediately introduced me to him as the friend of
whom she had already spoken, and of whom the hermit had
so often written, and, but lately, communicated further par-
ticulars. She then modestly, and with blushes added, that
I was the friend with whom she now this very moment had
renewed her former vows of faith ; and, sinking on her knees,
with filial piety and love, she fervently entreated her grand-
father's paternal blessing.

The count, however, whose aged blood of seventy years,
flowed somewhat slower than ours, said, with a smile, that
there was certainly no need of such very great haste, seeing
the case was not so desperately pressing ; and, giving me a
most hearty welcome, he turned towards Liesli, and raising
her up, affectionately patted her cheek, soothing her with the

THE MAID OF SOLOTHURX. 47

assurance that we should have no reason to be dissatisfied
with him after he had known me a little better, and found me
as worthy as he wished and hoped.

I was now obliged to relate the whole history of the shawl,
of the finding of which it appears the servant who announced
my arrival had already informed him, but which, however, both
Liesli and myself had entirely forgotten, lost as we both had
been in the subject of ourselves. Liesli had not observed me,
nor had she heard my cries in the crowd ; and had I not ven-
tured as I did, upon the rash and sudden act which left her
shawl in my grasp, most probably I should have left St. Pe-
tersburgh without having seen her — thus, on such slender
threads, hangs so often our happiness or misery !

Henceforward I was a daily visitor at the residence of the
count. It is an old and well known fact, that a grandfather
can rarely refuse any thing to his granddaughter, and, indeed,
not in all the fifty-one governments of Russia could such a
yielding, doating, and excellent grandfather be found as was the
old count. Liesli was the idol of his heart ; whatever she wished
was granted, nay, had she even demanded the lives of the many
thousand peasants and vassals contained on his vast estates, he
could not have refused her his consent.

After eight weeks had thus flown past, the old count one
morning entered the room with a smiling countenance. He had
just received letters by an extraordinary courier from the
hermit, who had communicated in them the most satisfac-
tory and complete information respecting myself, my circum-
stances, situation, and character. It concerned the happi-
ness of his beloved ward, and the hermit had accordingly
laid aside his cowl, and in the garb of a private gentleman had
set out on a visit to my native country, to collect in person
every information respecting my family and connections.

It was easy to be perceived, from the agreeable expression
of the old count's features, that the hermit's enquiries had
turned out to my advantage. At first he began to joke, and
pretended to hint, that from the contents of the letters he had

48 LIESLI,

just received, my presence appeared very necessary and much
desired in Germany. As, however, at this intelligence, the
tears began to appear in the eyes of his endearing grandchild,
he approached her, and putting his arm round her waist, ex-
claimed, in his peculiar tone of kindness and affection, " Nay,
my dear child, you must not weep, but rather smile and be
happy. Behold" he continued, pointing exultingly to the
letter, "now, I not only believe, but I am convinced that this
young man is worthy of you. There," he said, in an affec-
tionate and faltering tone, taking the hand of Liesli, and
conducting her to me — tc there, take the child of my only be-
loved and lamented son, who fell for his country, and who
now reposes in Liesli's mother's native land, far, far distant
from us. You are both good and virtuous, live as happy
together as I once did with my Anna Iwanowa ; may God
bless you, and may he ever watch and protect you."

Overwhelmed with joy and surprise, we embraced the good
old man, and since the last eight days the incomparable Liesli
has been my wife.

The ensuing spring we intend visiting the venerable hermit,
and the grave of my Liesli's mother in the churchyard at
Shwytz. From thence we shall proceed to my native country,
and the rest — time will unfold.

* • * « *

The foregoing pages I have extracted from the letters of

my happy friend, the Baron Hermann von .

How blest is he who gives his hand and heart to a poor girl,
so rich as to bring the beloved husband a marriage dower of
innocence and virtue! From such the blessing of Heaven
will never be withheld.

The good hermit in the meanwhile has departed this life —
for a better !

THE

SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

OR,

THE SIGNAL-ROCKET.

AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE OF THE THIRTY
YEARS' WAR,

BY MADAME C. PICHLER.

THE

SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

OR,

THE SIGNAL ROCKET.

CHAPTER I.

THE war which followed the Reformation in Germany had
reached its thirtieth year. From Bohemia, where it com-
menced, its ravages had extended over the whole empire, even
to the frontier states, — turning flourishing provinces into
deserts, and rendering once opulent citizens, beggars and
fugitives.

Time, however, and the changes whereto all earthly things
are subject, at length materially altered the original character
of the struggle. By degrees passions cooled down, and
views and feelings became more moderate. The embittered
strife of opinion, which, five-and-twenty years earlier, would
have spurned every conciliatory idea as inadmissible, nay as
sinful, now began to listen to overtures of peace, which seemed,
indeed, after such long and determined exertion, necessary for
both parties.

A congress had been sitting at Osnabriick for several years,
carefully and jealously occupied in weighing the respective
rights and demands of the belligerents, — regarding which its
members experienced much difficulty in coming to a satisfac-
tory conclusion ; for the holy zeal for faith and liberty had
long since degenerated into a common lust after conquest,
each side wishing to obtain as much, and to yield as little, as

52 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

possible. During all these negotiations, the Swedish array
still lay in the very heart of Germany ; and, utterly forgetful
of the proud character of deliverers and defenders of the new
creed and of German liberty, — in which light the heroic Gus-
tavus first announced himself to the world, — made plunder and
exaction their sole object, and contrived to render the Swedish
name at once dreaded and detested.

A considerable Swedish force, commanded by General
Wrangel, occupied Bavaria, rioting and devastating in their
usual way ; and a part of this force, under the orders of Count
Konigsmark, had penetrated through the Upper Palatinate into
Bohemia, and fixed its quarters in the district of Eger, carry-
ing on there the work of fire and pillage.

The country was compelled to bear this new burden, for
the Imperial army was either too distant or too weak to re-
move it ; and these exactions were not one whit the less gall-
ing, that those who imposed them pretended to come as
liberators. The Emperor, Ferdinand II. was dead, and with
him had expired that national animosity which had instigated
the Bohemians to conspire against his imperial rights, and
brought down on them the heavy weight of his arm. Fer-
dinand III. was a prince of a milder and kinder character ;
and as the new generation inherited not the aversion of their
fathers to German rule, — their principal desire being the re-
pose of their wasted and worn-out country, — every man
burned with hatred toward the intruding and overbearing
foreigners, in whose humiliation and expulsion they longed
for an opportunity to co-operate. The more thoughtful
among them could not but perceive that the period of their
national independence was gone by to return no more. The
rapid and gloomy succession of events had involved the king-
dom almost in one universal ruin, and had imprinted a sombre,
hopeless character on the minds of its population. A few
bold spirits, it is true, endeavoured to repress the desponding
tendency, and to keep alive the memory of those days when
the Bohemian name, in the war of the Hussites, was the

OR, THE SIGXAL-ROCKET. 53

terror of their enemies, and when Charles, their king, with
mild hand showered on them the blessings of peace, and dig-
nified his countrymen in the eyes of all Europe.

These were, however, but few ; the mass indulged in a
settled gloom, alike the result of their individual misfortunes
and those of their country. Among this number was a youth
of the House of Wallenstein, a name alone sufficient to fill
the mind with recollections of all the renown as well as all
the horrors of the Thirty Years' War.

The father of Albert was brother to the great Duke of
Friedland. The youth grew up under the eye of his parents,
and subsequently, of his noble kinsman, and resided prin-
cipally at Prague, in the palace which the Duke had erected,
with royal magnificence, during the period of his absence from
his public functions.

Even at the present day, this structure bears the stamp of
the proud and gloomy mind of its founder. A hundred
houses were bought and razed to the ground, in order to find
room for the gardens and palace. The style of the building is
splendid, but heavy. Walls of great [height surround the
entire space enclosed, obstructing the view from the neigh-
bouring houses, and imparting an isolated and lonely appear-
ance. The garden- saloon is truly splendid; decorated with
paintings in fresco, supported in front upon pillars, and open
toward the grounds, from which it is separated by a low iron
balcony, whereto the visitor is conducted by a flight of steps.
The extensive state-saloon of the palace is carried through
two stories, and embellished on the ceiling with costly paint-
ings in fresco, which are still to be seen ; and, at that time,
the walls were covered with gilding. Sixty pages, each of
noble family, in the rich blue and red livery of the Duke, —
numerous officers and chamberlains, who, as in the imperial
service, bore the gold key, together with countless menials,
filled the royally-decorated chambers ; and whoever sought an
audience of his Highness was led through a long suite of these
splendid apartments, and through this imposing retinue.

F3

54 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE}

Such was the pomp amidst which Albert lived in Prague :
and within this brilliant scene was he educated. The looks
of his uncle were soon directed, with delight, toward the hope-
ful stripling, in whom he would fain contemplate the future
heir of his glory, as well as of his name. Heaven had not
blessed the Duke with a son ; and his society, during his
absence from the field, consisted of his only daughter, Isabella,
and her mother. He had much pleasure in observing the two
children when at their games ; and occasionally allowed such
pages as were distinguished by superior manners or family
dignity, to join them. Joanna, also, his steward's daughter,
who had been selected as the Princess Isabella's little play-
mate, frequently made one of the party on these occasions.

No warlike fire, it is true, ever shone from the blue eyes of
Albert, which rather bore, like the rest of his features, the
soft impress of deep sensibility and gentle melancholy : and
the Duke, calling to mind his own youthful days, his retired,
nay, gloomy temper, that felt but little pleasure in the amuse-
ments of his comrades, and his wonderful escape in a fall
from a window (which made him seem the care of Providence,
and had a powerful influence in elevating his disposition),
entertained, on all these accounts, a watchful anxiety for the
proper education and personal safety of his nephew, and exer-
cised great circumspection in his choice of a tutor for the
boy.

From the numerous candidates for this office, Father Plachy,
a member of the order of Jesuits, was selected ; a man not only
distinguished for profound attainments in theology and astro-
nomy, but unquestionably of original genius, and, therefore,
every way adapted to awaken the dormant energies of Albert.
The Father's strictly moral life, pious habits, and candid man-
ners gained him also universal esteem.

Such was the man to whom the Duke entrusted his nephew,
whilst he himself kept a watchful eye over the whole of the
youth's studies, and the general tenor of his conduct. During
his hours of application, the great man was often present, and

ORj THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 55

took infinite delight in watching his progress in every branch
of knowledge. He even occasionally took part in the lad's
sports, and endeavoured, by the direction he gave them, to
rouse within his breast that heroic feeling which, he doubted
not, slumbered there, under the veil of childish placidity and
good humour.

But, determined as Albert's courage shewed itself to be on
every occasion — and however delicate, and even fastidious,
his sense of honour, still it did not appear as if his uncle's
career, and the rapid movements of a military life where the
elements in which he would delight. He displayed, it is true,
great pleasure and zeal in manly exercises, in every branch
whereof he received due instruction ; but the silent charms of
the Muses had yet mightier attraction for him ; and what
wound the strongest spell around his fancy was exactly that
which was most carefully concealed from him.

Father Plachy's astronomical observations were, according
to the spirit of the age, inseparably connected with astrology ;
on which account it was, perhaps, that the choice of his
patron had fallen on him. The observatory of Battista Leni
was his favourite resort at such seasons when he knew his
pupil was under his uncle's eye, or otherwise safely engaged.
Albert soon perceived that there were secrets in this occupa-
tion, which he had an eager inclination to dive into ; and
once finding means to enter the observatory unnoticed, his
youthful mind received an indelible impression from the forms
of the planets, (represented as so many kings and heroes,)
the mysterious instruments, and the unintelligible figures.
Afterward, he was incessantly begging his uncle and tutor to
be allowed to enter this world of wonders and profundity.
They cajoled him with promises for awhile : but both loved
the youth too well to keep him long in suspense ; and ac-
cordingly he was satisfied, so far as his immature apprehen-
sion admitted. The Duke, indeed, was delighted at this trait
in Albert's character, as it seemed to indicate a new feature of
resemblance between his nephew and himself. Thus the

56 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

boy grew constantly dearer to him j whilst Albert, on his
part, felt the truest attachment to the hero, who, amidst all
his important affairs and glory, found leisure for the display
of so much parental solicitude toward him.

It was about this period that the head of the house of Wal-
lenstein received, for the second time, the command of the
imperial forces, now necessary to be re-formed. The man-
ner in which he used, or mis-used the power thus consigned
to him becomes a question that, in common with other cir-
cumstances connected with the then existing state of Ger-
many, belongs to history.

Albert had remained at home with his tutor, enjoying the
occasional happiness of hearing from his uncle ; when, in the

midst of his felicity, the terrible blow the sudden news of

the Duke's murder fell on them, threatening, in its con-
sequences, to blast, for ever, the fair hopes of our hero, (for
such we must confess him,) who, although certainly, at that
period, too young to perceive all the consequences of this
event, was yet old enough to feel, long and deeply, the loss of
his uncle. His parents survived the Duke but a few years ;
and his cousin Isabella had left Prague some time previously,
having formed an alliance with Count Kaunitz.

Thus, at an age when t,he affections of the youthful heart
expand most vigorously, did Albert find himself, as it were,
alone in the world. His tutor was now his nearest and
dearest friend ; to him he became attached with all the ardour
of a warm and undivided affection, and sought, in his society
and in the cultivation of the sciences, abstraction from the
many indefinite desires and anxious wishes wherewith he
found himself agitated. He cultivated, with particular zeal,
the combined study of astronomy and astrology ; and when
Father Plachy, some time after, was made Professor at Tycho
Brahe's observatory, Albert was accustomed to pass many
nights there in his society, dwelling constantly within a short
distance of the Father's residence, which was in the Jesuit's
College, in the old town. It is true, he had come into the

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 57

possession of several of his uncle's estates, and, also, of the
palace already mentioned ; in which, however, he was beset
by too many painful recollections of the past — of the Duke —
of his parents — and the happy scenes of his childhood. As
he did not choose, therefore, to dwell in the palace, he gave
it in charge, together with the gardens, to his uncle's vene-
rable steward, Bertram, merely calling occasionally, to see
how affairs went on.

At that mournful period, when the country was plunged in
universal distress, he did all in his power to relieve the suffer-
ings of his unhappy dependants ; and thus, dividing his time
between the care of his people and the study of the sciences,
he would not permit his friends — not even Father Plachy him-
self—to persuade him to embrace any particular profession,
or rill any fixed station in life j nor would he listen to any
proposals of entering the married state. Professing to read,
in the mystic book of the stars, the prolongation of his coun-
try's woe, he held it selfish, under such circumstances, to cater
for individual happiness.

But the heart puts forth claims which cannot be wholly
waved ; and from his dream of serious placidity, the ruffling
tempest was prepared to awaken Albert.

CHAPTER II.

IN the vicinity of Prague, where the river Moldavia winds,
with eddying sweep, from east to west, and then continues its
course northward, stands, by the river side, the castle of
Troy } doubtless indebted for its name, to some corruption of
a Bohemian word. The surrounding gardens rise imme-
diately from the shore ; the castle itself lying in the centre,
approached by a double flight of steps. Before it flows a
clear stream, divided into two branches, and opposite is seen
the beautiful dome of Konigsburg, in Prague.

58 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

Here resided the Baron von Zelstow, the last of a noble
race, which, through the first wife of the Duke of Friedland,
was allied to the house of Wallenstein. The Baron and his
lady formed a plain, venerable couple ; and Albert, to whom
every one was dear that had been connected with his uncle,
delighted occasionally to visit these old and respected relations,
and always experienced an affectionate welcome.

The Baroness, feeling the advancing weight of years, and
wishing to have some one to assist her in her domestic con-
cerns, bethought herself of a distant relation of her husband
— the daughter of an officer who had fallen in battle long
before, and left his wife and child in needy circumstances.
The widow, after the death of her spouse, had retired to a
small house in the Old Town, where, with her daughter, she
hoped to lead a quiet, industrious life ; and an aged clergy-
man, belonging to the Utraquistic party, (long since sup-
pressed,) who had lived during the time of the schisms in
the church, and had in his youth taken no inconsiderable
share therein, occupied apartments in the same house with
Madame Berka and the young lady.

Bowed down by age, as well as by the storms of the times,
the worthy ecclesiastic was now obliged to court seclusion.
After the White-hill victory had brought the contending
spirits to repose, and no further disputes arose respecting dif-
ference of opinion, when the figure of the holy virgin shone
in meridian splendour on the steeple of the Thein-Church,
where formerly the cup — the symbol of the Utraquists — had
shone ; the faithful adherent to his youthful opinions derived
some consolation from dwelling in the vicinity of the spot
where, centuries before, John Huss had lived. The house
of the latter (as well as the Bethlehem Church, wherein that
ardent genius was accustomed to preach) afforded a melan-
choly pleasure to the old man, who had no longer strength
sufficient to support long journeys.

But although his bodily strength was decaying, his mind
still retained its wonted activity ; and the beautiful and in-

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 59

telligent child of his neighbour, Madame Beika, appeared a
fit subject wherewith to occupy his leisure hours, by the
superintendance of her education. He therefore cultivated
the acquaintance of the widow, gained the child's good- will,
and in due time made the mother an offer of giving little
Helen instruction in the chief branches of education. The
widow, as may be supposed, gladly consented j the arrange-
ment was desirable on the score of economy, and calculated
besides to divert the restless temper of the child, during many
hours which she herself might thus devote to household
affairs.

In this manner, then, did little Helen acquire considerable
knowledge, although not exactly of that kind calculated to
be useful to her in the humble station of life for which she
seemed destined. Besides a thorough acquaintance with
reading and writing, (an advantage enjoyed at that period by
but few of her sex,) she likewise obtained a fair portion of
geography and natural history j and, at length, as her active
mind took delight in such information, in the history of her
native country — communicated, however, in that spirit of pre-
judice natural to a man who had identified himself with a
particular party, and that the losing one.

As the girl grew up to womanhood she displayed, indeed,
uncommon charms, both of mind and person. Well did she
imbibe those notions of independence, of free inquiry, ami.
opposition to all constraint, which had been instilled into her j
and the venerable Utraquist had the consolation of knowing
when he died, that his principles and views had taken deep
root in the breast of his pupil.

Thus, for instance, did the fair scholar nourish the opinions
of Protestantism, With the few of similar disposition who
had embraced them since the times of persecution, Helen
kept herself quiet and retired : in their assemblies she fancied
her soul's safety was secure, and she found their mode of
worship congenial and inspiriting. The circumstance was

60 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

naturally and necessarily kept secret from her mother, who
was devoted to the ancient creed, as well as to him whom she
considered her rightful prince. This, however, Helen accom-
plished without any difficulty. At once resolute and wary,
she was able to manage so that her mother, who was in truth
completely swayed by her, suspected nothing. Still it was
with a feeling of dislike she contemplated the narrow limits
within which she was confined : the gloom that hung over
her home oppressed her ; whilst out of doors, the dark
thoroughfares and dingy houses presented neither variety nor
relief. She longed for a more active life — a more brilliant
sphere ; and absolutely felt as if outraged, on returning from
among the palaces of the great and noble at the other end of
the city, to enter the narrow precincts of her own abode.

The arrival of the invitation from her relatives to live with
them at Troy castle was, therefore, hailed by the young lady
almost as joyfully as a messenger from heaven would have
been. The mother, too, was gratified to see her beautiful
child, who possessed so much knowledge and talent, removed
to a sphere in which her rare qualities would secure admira-
tion, and wherein she would be certain soon to obtain a rich
and noble suitor. This brilliant vision of Madame Berka
served to console her on separating from her daughter, whc
promised to visit her frequently, as the castle was situated at
.so short a distance from Prague.

By the Baron von Zelstow and his lady their juvenile kins-
woman was received with affection, and treated with great
respect. They did not, however, at first find in her the pre-
cise individual they sought, for she displayed neither much
personal attachment toward them, nor the requisite subordi-
nation and domestic activity. Helen, in truth, was of a
proud spirit, nor had she enjoyed, with her mother, the oppor-
tunities necessary to qualify her for conducting so extensive
an establishment as that of the Baroness vori Zelstow. Still,
being conscious of the necessity of conforming herself to her

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 61

duties, (however little she might relish them,) she soon mani-
fested considerable aptitude and address : and perceiving how
important it was to her interests to preserve the good-will of
her relatives, she earnestly set about securing it. Thus, in
course of time, their new inmate became of great service in
various respects ; above all, her society tended to enliven the
advancing years of the old people, by bringing into their nar-
row and quiet circle new subjects of contemplation, and caus-
ing the accession of many youthful visitors, attracted by
Helen's beauty and accomplishments.

Among the young men whose visits at the castle became
now much more frequent, the most prominent was Albert
von Wallenstein. He was accompanied by his friend and al-
most inseparable companion, the Baron von Wulden, of a
rich and noble house, but distinguished neither by so brilliant
a name nor so fine a figure as Wallenstein. Albert and Leo-
pold, (such was the young Baron's Christian name,) although
intimate friends, were different in character ; yet even their
rivalry, as admirers of Helen, did not diminish their good
understanding. Leopold's heart had been inflamed at first
sight of the fascinating girl j but his passion exploded in
harmless effervescence. On Albert she produced a less vio-
lent, but more profound impression. The majestic figure of
Helen, her shape, her cheek — whereon were blended the lily
and the rose — her luxuriant dark tresses, which played, accord-
ing to the fashion of the period, in rich ringlets about the
face and neck, and fell upon her snowy shoulders ; and her
piercing black eyes, apparently demanding obeisance as they
glanced around : such a combination of charms could not
fail to have arrested the most ordinary beholder j and Albert
was not formed to be such. With him, emotion, if it was
produced at all, operated powerfully. On a nearer acquaint-
ance, too, he perceived such marks of high mindedness in the
lovely girl, combined with so much dignity of manner, that
she gradually assumed, in his estimation, the character of a

c

62 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

goddess — whom he might, indeed, honour, but whose love
he could scarcely hope to obtain.

The youth, on his first introduction, had particularly at-
tracted Helen's notice : and, in truth, the nephew of the
great Duke of Friedland — the lord of so many estates — the
descendant of a house which, from the earliest periods, had
connected itself with the annals of the country, was well
qualified to fix the attention of any young lady, however fas-
tidious. But let us not do injustice to the fair object of ad-
miration— which we should, were we to insinuate that it was
merely these accidental circumstances which gave Albert all
his value in her eyes. The rare accomplishments of his mind,
his noble sentiments, the delicacy and elegance of his man-
ners, and — why should we hesitate to admit it — the grace of
his person, united to form the chain whereby her fancy was
bound. Added to these pretensions, too, his enthusiastic
attachment to his uncle (whom Helen inwardly worshipped as
a martyr for the good cause), induced her to regard his opi-
nions as quite congenial to her own. With this conviction,
therefore, she put no restraint on the expression of her favour-
able feelings ; and Wallenstein was regarded, both by her
relations and his rivals, as the chosen object of her affections.
Albert himself was alone incredulous on this point, not dar-
ing to nourish the fond hopes which were excited within him
by Helen's flattering reception of his attentions. Leopold,
however, offered him sincere congratulation ; beholding, with
unaltered serenity of mind, and without a spark of ill-will,
his friend in the way of attaining an object for which he him-
self had striven, and which, as it now appeared to recede
from his grasp, seemed more lovely than ever.

Madame von Zelstow, like the generality of her sex, was
delighted with the abstract idea of a liaison, and gratified by
so unexceptionable a match as seemed prepared for her niece.
She had always esteemed Wallenstein, and was charmed with
his visits to Troy. She now received him with increased cor-

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 63

diality j whilst the old Baron was also happy to see the
young folks around him, who, for his niece's sake, accompa-
nied him to the chase, and enlivened his table. He secretly
preferred, however, the liveliness of Wulden to the more
serious manners of Wallenstein ; and frequently hinted to his
wife, when the intimacy between the young folks became a
topic of conversation, that Wallenstein would not at all
suit Helen, who was too high-spirited, and aimed at too great
things, to study the happiness of a man of quiet habits, whose
chief object in marriage would be to find his wife devoted to
him and attached to domestic comfort. "Helen's ambition,"
continued the Baron, " soars far beyond this. Home — her
husband — the round of household duties — these would, in
her estimation, be of little importance, in comparison with
the world, pomp, display, and power. And, on these ac-
counts, young Wulden would be a much more suitable com-
panion for the girl ; as, being of a cheerful and happy dispo-
sition himself, he would not object to her sharing fully in the
tempting fascinations of courtly life, while he would give him-
self very little trouble about her airs or contrary humours
at home."

In this judgment, the old Baron was not wrong. The
tempers of Albert and Helen were, in reality, too strongly
contrasted to admit the growth of any unanimity of feeling.
The arrogant and haughty tone of the latter found no corre-
sponding echo in the bosom of Wallenstein j nor was the
sombre, but elevated complexion of his mind at all consonant
with hers. Her veneration for the memory of his uncle —
almost the only sentiment they had in common — was founded
on reasons widely distinct from Albert's ; and thus, even upon
that ground, they did not long meet harmoniously. In fact,
Helen's hastily-formed passion gradually died away. Yet
the purity of Albert's mind, and the dignity of his sentiments,
could not cease to inspire her with respect, nor his amiable
manners to ensure her cordial esteem.

On the part of Albert, this inequality of mind was pro-
o 2

64 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

ductive of indescribable pain : for, although he might not ap-
prove of all Helen's conduct, he still discerned, in her very
errors, strength and loftiness of intellect. This state of things
continued for some months, until an evident change was
wrought in the young lady by a singular occurrence.

She had accustomed herself, as already mentioned, to attend
the secret meetings cf her fellow-believers ; and, even while
at Troy castle, had frequently, under pretence of visiting her
mother, enjoyed this facility. She was thus present, on a
religious festival, when a numerous congregation assembled
to celebrate the day, and to partake of the holy communion.
Whilst thus engaged, Helen observed, on raising her head, a
man whose noble air rivetted her attention, and whom she
did riot recollect to have seen before at the assembly, with
every member of which she was personally acquainted. His
figure was tall and athletic, and distinguished by a military
dignity of carriage ; whilst his strongly-marked features bore
an expression frequently shifting between vivacity and melan-
choly, which gave to them, in Helen's eyes, an additional in-
terest. During the service he remained seated, silently
plunged in thought, and enveloped in the folds of his dark
cloak. The preacher's discourse seemed to affect him ; and
when the unjust judgment of Pilate and the blindness of the
Jewish people were touched on, a scornful smile seemed to
play about his lips (which were deeply shaded by thick mus-
tachios), and his glowing eyes flashed lightning.

Helen's curiosity was highly excited by all this : her atten-
tion was drawn aside from her devotions, and her regard fixed
almost involuntarily on the stranger. As the sermon drew
toward a close, he lifted his eyes, which falling on Helen, his
features became lit up with an expression of astonishment, so
vivid as to make her blush, at the same time that it gratified
her. Henceforward, whenever she raised her eye, it met the
stranger's half-smiling, half-passionate gaze : the girl {eh
embarrassed — her vanity was flattered. The discourse at an
end, the congregation approached the table where the cup

OR; THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 65

was placed — the dear symbol of their ecclesiastical liberty.
All knelt down. The unknown, drawing nearer to Helen,
was recognized by her as she looked round, and, at the same
moment, his dark eyes shot forth such a burning glance as
little suited either the time or place. Helen was now con-
founded, and started back : her feelings were aroused by the
stranger's boldness, although there was still something in his
features and carriage which found a direct passage to her
breast.

The service was now concluded, and she left the house of
prayer to proceed to her mother's. When she arrived at the
square in the Old Town, she fancied she beheld the figure of the
stranger reflected on the walls, silently pursuing her steps. Her
heart beat anxiously at the thought, yet she dared not look
around her, although she imagined that she heard his firm
and manly step on the stones, together with the rattling of the
heavy sword belted round his waist. She involuntarily quick-
ened her pace, hastened across the square, and passed the
crowd to her mother's house. As she glided through the
dark passage leading to the door, she ventured to cast a
glance behind her, when suddenly the tall commanding shape
that had haunted her fancy stood bodily before the house, as if
engaged in deep conversation with some companion, and
most probably, the subject was none other than herself. She
was so absent and confused on her entrance, that her mother
perceived itj but Helen was at no loss for an excuse, and
easily quieted Madame Berka's apprehensions.

All her thoughts were now bent on learning something
about the stranger. This, however, was difficult of accom-
plishment ; for neither in Prague, nor at the castle, could she
venture to allude to the place or occasion of her meeting with
him ; arid she was, consequently, forced to wait till accident
or successful stratagem should procure the wished-for in-
formation.

At Easter, Helen again found an opportunity of visiting
her mother and the meeting-house, at which latter she in-

c3

66 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

dulged sn expectation of again seeing the object of her
anxiety; nor was she disappointed. His appearance alone
spoke more than she could have hoped to learn by any in-
quiry. He wore a rich and splendid uniform, similar to that
of the Austrian service. The sash of his large basket-hilled
sword, the waving feathers of his hat, and his embroidered
cloak and vest, all proclaimed his rank to be that of a staff-
officer } with which supposition his age, apparently between
thirty and forty, coincided. Helen observed that his right
arm reposed uselessly within the folds of a sash ; and, on that
account, his sword hung, quite contrary to custom, at his
right side, seeming to show that, even in a wounded state, he
still knew how to draw and wield it with his left arm. All
this, while it confirmed Helen's pre-conceived opinion of his
courage, produced within her, at the same time, a tender feel-
ing of interest respecting his misfortunes ; and, while thus
occupied, nay absorbed, she caught the soldier's gaze, whose
face was straightway lit up with a beam of joy, his stern
features relaxing into a happy smile ; and from that moment
Helen felt as if they were no longer unknown to each
other.

Her half-formed anticipations were realized. After service,
the officer followed her as before, although not with equal
reserve. When they arrived at the square, and the church-
going crowd had dispersed, he advanced and greeted her,
gracefully and respectfully, in the following terms : " I have
now twice had the pleasure of meeting you at our assembly,
and therefore do not account myself a perfect stranger, and
you will accordingly, excuse my greeting you, Lady von Berka,
as my fellow-worshipper."

" You know my name, then," exclaimed Helen, with
surprise.

" Who knows not the Lady von Berka, the ornament of
Prague; as well by her mental as personal accomplishments ?"

" And pray," rejoined Helen, blushing, and embarrassed at
the stranger's answer, " with whom have I the honour "

OR, THE SIGXAL-ROCKET. 67

" My name is Colonel von Odowalsky,'1 replied he, inter-
rupting her.

" You have served in the Imperial army ?"

" Formerly I did," he answered, in an ironical tone ; " but
they find I am no longer fit for service, as I can only hew my
way with my left arm (since my right was smashed by a can-
non-ball), which would be contrary to all military rule."

" You have been severely wounded, I perceive," said Helen,
in a soft tone, " and have, no doubt, suffered much ! At what
action did you get your hurt ?"

Colonel Odowalsky told her the scene of battle, and de-
scribed it to her, while Helen listened with the deepest interest,
and shewed, by her remarks, that she was completely versed
in the history of her native country, as well as acquainted
with recent events. Her companion heard her observations
with astonishment, and the lovely creature, whose personal
beauty had so dazzled him before, now enchanted him by the
graces of her mind. During such animated discourse they
arrived at Madame Berka's house, where Helen stopt, and
was taking leave, when Odowalsky exclaimed, " Now, then,
I must part from you — perhaps never to see you more !"

" We shall probably meet again at church," whispered
Helen, in much agitation.

" But when ? And even in that case, how limited must be
our means of communication !"

" I am not dependent on myself," replied Helen, after a
moment's pause ; " my time and intercourse with society are
not at my own disposal. I am a poor orphan, and must pur-
chase the favour of my relations by obedience."

" By Heavens !" exclaimed Odowalsky, fervently, " this is
a situation unworthy of you, lady. My heart cannot be con-
soled by such uncertain hope. I must see you again, and
soon !" He bowed and retired.

Helen now slipped into the house, and her mother, ad-
vancing to meet her, inquired who it was with whom she had

68 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

been speaking; and accompanied her question by the remark
that Helen had certainly an escort home.

" An officer met me," answered the young beauty, " as I
came from church. He knows us, and knew also my dear

father. He calls himself Colonel Oden Otto or

some such name, which I can't now recollect. In short,"
added she, somewhat hastily, " he was a fellow- soldier of my
father's."

" But how came he to address you so unceremoniously ?
Sure, this was not very becoming !"

" He recognized my features, and persisted in guessing that
I must be the daughter of Captain von Berka, from my re-
semblance, as he said, to my beautiful mother."

The flattering tone in which Helen pronounced this made
her mother forget the lecture she was about to deliver, whilst
she tasked her memory to recollect the name of her husband's
comrade, who had recognized the beautiful daughter from
remembering the features of the beautiful mother,

Helen returned to the castle. The image of Odowalsky,
his conversation, his misfortune, his mode of thinking, were
the continual subjects of her thoughts. She pictured him as
possessing every excellence ; and in the same proportion as
the idea of him filled her breast, did Wallenstein, Wulden, and
the long train of her other admirers (among whom had been
for some time numbered the Baron von Predetten, an officer
in the Colloredian regiment), sink into the shade.

This change in Helen's sentiments became gradually appa-
rent. She was now thoughtful, absent, fanciful. Albert
bitterly felt the revolution, and feared that some misfortune
had befallen her which her proud spirit could not bear to
impart to her relations. With a kind feeling of sympathy,
therefore, he sought to gain her confidence. She felt this
noble conduct ; but it only served to heighten the tempest
within her, and to make his presence painful, since it increased
the consciousness of her injustice to his merits. In his com-

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 69

pany she never ventured to give free scope to that disdainful
air, in consequence of which her other suitors, one by one,
left off visiting at the castle, whilst Predetten, with a temper
wilful as her own, meditated avenging, by her humiliation, the
cavalier rejection of his advances.

CHAPTER HI.

MEANWHILE, the Swedes had spread themselves all round the
neighbourhood of Eger, taking possession of Falkenau and
other places, whilst the daily arrival of discouraging news at
Prague induced its agitated inhabitants to sigh more wistfully
for the final conclusion of peace.

Wallenstein himself had also received the most melancholy
accounts from several of his estates, and was on the point of
proceeding across the bridge leading to the palace-gardens, in
quest of his friend and tutor, Plachy, who was passing a few
nights at the observatory, as the heavenly bodies were just
about to exhibittimportant aspects. He had already done all
in his power for his poor dependents, for whose benefit he had
made great sacrifices. Now he was at a loss what to do j
and this circumstance, together with the unhappy state of
public affairs, and the melancholy produced by his misplaced
affection, plunged his mind into deep gloom.

Thus wrapt in thought, he was passing the bridge, when
suddenly a well-known voice arrested his attention ; he looked
up, and recognised his friends Wulden and Predetten.

" Well met," exclaimed the former ; " where are you
going, Wallenstein."

" To the palace-gardens," replied Albert.

" Let us proceed, then : — we were just looking for you."

" Looking for me ! And what do you want, now you have
found me?" asked Wallenstein, playfully.

" We have some intelligence to communicate," said Pre-

70 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

detten, assuming a tone of gravity, " which will, no doubt,
surprise you."

"Indeed! What is it?" inquired Wallenstein, his at-
tention awakened.

Predetten was about to reply, when he was interrupted by
Wulden, who said that this was not the place for discoursing
on such a subject, as they ran a risk of being overheard.

" Is then your news so secret ?" rejoined Albert.

" At this moment it is so, although all Prague will soon
resound with it," replied Predetten, his features relaxing into
a smile.

" JBut does it concern me ?"

" Ay! it concerns you, myself, and our friend here ; nay,
all who have so vainly attempted their fortune with Helen of
Troy," answered the other, laughing aloud at his own jocu-
larity.

The mention of that name produced on the countenance of
Wallenstein a sudden expression of gloom. " I was not
aware, Baron von Predetten," said he, " that I had ever made
you a confidant of any such attempts."

" Certainly you did not purpose doing so," returned the
Baron ; " but you must not expect that people will con-
sent Toluntarily to blind themselves when in your society and
that of the fair idol of adoration."

" If your communication, as it appears, have reference to
this subject, it may be as well forborne," answered our hero,
rather warmly.

" Oh, as you please !" exclaimed the other, offended in his
turn; "lean reserve my intelligence j but, sir," added he,
proudly, " I cannot brook your lofty air nor insulting tone !"
He laid his hand on his sword as he spake, with an indication
that could not be misconstrued.

" I accept your offer," cried Albert, whose blood was chafed,
and who prepared to draw ; but Wulden, stepping between
them, entreated both to be calm. " Wallenstein," he said,
" repress your irritation : be assured what you will hear will

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 'jl

tend considerably to cool it ; and as to you, Predetten, con-
sider that the lady has not, — at least, as yet,— given us any
reason to withhold from her name proper respect."

" Proper respect !" exclaimed the Baron, scornfully ; " Oh '
oh ! respect for a female who plays the prude before her
friends, but in their absence allows a Swedish officer to enter
her chamber at night!"

"Who dares to say so?" cried Albert, again making a
motion to draw : " Baron von Predetten, I demand satisfac-
tion in the name of my relations."

"Immediately!" was the reply. " Let us proceed to the
Malchese Square, which is silent and retired."

"Come, come!" cried Wulden; "are you mad — to be quar-
relling here in the street, in the middle of the city ! — and that,
too, for the sake of a girl, whose conduct — be not offended
with me, Albert — is, to say the least of it, somewhat am-
biguous."

Wallenstein bit his lip, and was silent, though his blood
Still ran riotously. " Well," he said, after a short pause,
" do you speak, then ; but let us step aside into the adjoin-
ing street."

They did so ; and Albert was informed that Helen had now
kept up an intimacy with a Swedish officer for some time ;
that the latter usually crossed the Moldavia, in a fishing-boat,
at night ; that Helen waited for him at the garden-gate j and
they then disappeared together.

"And how came you to know this?" asked Wallenstein,
with some asperity : " Has she made either of you her con-
fidant ?"

"Scarcely," exclaimed Predetten, laughing} "but listen
to my story. A fisherman on the banks of the Moldavia,
below Buchenetsch, was, some weeks ago, accosted by a man
wrapped in a huge cloak, who made a sign that he wished to
cross the river, at the same time holding forth a doubloon.
The fisherman was rather surprised, but ferried the applicant

72 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

over, and received the money. Since that time, the same
person appears once or twice every week, makes the same
signal, presents the same fare, and returns toward morning —
when the fisherman is in waiting, and, on a signal which the
unknown makes with a whistle, appears, to ferry him back. So
much for the first part of my story ; now for the second. It
is not unknown to the people in the castle that the young
lady very often steals out of an evening to take long walks
in the garden, or eltewhere, and does not return till morning."
" But the stream has two branches," exclaimed Albert,
abruptly j " their meetings would seem, therefore, to be on
the island, which renders your story highly improbable."

" Do not be too hasty j" replied Predetten : " close to the
smaller branch of the river lives another fisherman, und I
know that he also has occasionally been employed (sometimes
at night) to convey a person from Troy, and, at other times,
to carry some one to the island. So much for part the third
of my story ; and mark it well."

" These are, after all, bare assertions : the story wants
that connection of parts which can alone render it worthy of
credence."

"True," observed Wulden; "still enough remains to

render these night expeditions extremely strange and equivocal."

" But where are your proofs? The information proceeds

from the mouths of ignorant domestics, who are always ready

to circulate evil of their superiors."

" You may continue to doubt," replied Predetten, again
waxing wroth, " as long as you please ; as for myself, the
lady shall no longer make a fool of me ; and I am determined
to make this story public." So saying he departed, with an
indignant air, and left the two friends to themselves.

Albert remained silent for some time, his eyes bent on the
ground.

" Well, what do you think of all this?" at length inquired
Wulden.

OH, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. J3

" Think !" cried his companion, "Why that I must have
much clearer and more certain evidence before I can entertain
any suspicion to the prejudice of Helen."

" I fear you will be obliged to yield faith to the charge of
her intercourse with an officer of the hostile party."

" But how (granting, for a moment, that there is such an
intercourse) do you know that the person whom she sees is a
Swede ? These are mere assumptions, to which gossip and
slander would fain impart the dignity of truth."

" What will you say if I tell you, that I am acquainted with
the man by whose means she sometimes sends letters to the
camp of Konigsmark ?"

" To that I can say nothing. Yet all this may be true,
and Helen still innocent. There are circumstances which
must be taken into consideration."

" Granted : but there are too many well connected proofs
of the conduct imputed to her. Her changed behaviour, her
dejection of mind, and absent manner for some time past }
together with Predetten's intelligence and my own observa-
tions. None of these singly convict the lady ; but, taken
together, they mutually explain each other, and afford a very
strong presumption."

Wallenstein made no reply ; and they slowly proceeded on
their way. On their arrival at the palace-gate, " You are
going up to the observatory ?" said Wulden.

" I seek Father Plachy, to whom I have the painful office
of communicating unpleasant news. The Swedes are com-
mitting great havoc on my estates."

" Are you, indeed, my poor friend, doomed to suffer more,
in addition to what has been already imposed on you by your
exertions for your tenantry ?"

" 1 have not been able to do much for them !" sighed
Albert.

" There are but few landlords who would have acted so
humanely as you," replied his friend. " Have you not
already sacrificed one half the sum allowed you for your

H

74 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

annual expenses, by the trustees, in order to support your
vassals ?"

" Their condition is truly miserable, whilst my wants are
but few."

" Your way of thinking and acting, Wallenstein, is ex-
emplary ; and, we are taught to believe, will not be without
its reward. The grateful prayers of your dependants will
arise on your behalf like incense." Albert silently shook his
head. "What!" continued Wulden, " are you incredulous
of this ? Do you doubt the efficacy of such prayers ?"

" By no means ; to do so were impious. But the blessing
of Heaven does not always show itself in bestowing earthly
happiness. I have no hope for such."

" Fie, fie ! what, more prophecies ! Have you been again
consulting the stars? Really, Albert, I am surprised so
wise a head as yours can listen to such foolery."

" Wiser heads than either yours or mine, Wulden, have
entertained what you so denominate."

"Yes, for example, Albert, those of your uncle and Father
Plachy. Nevertheless, I still esteem predictions to be but idle
dreams. How is it possible," pursued he, laughing, " that
the stars, which are so distant, can exert any influence over
us ?"

During this colloquy, the two friends had ascended the hill
on which the palace was built, and turned, when at its sum-
mit, to view the far-extended prospect of the city beneath.
The conversation had involuntarily ceased, and both were
absorbed in scrutiny of the picture which presented itself to
their gaze.

CHAPTER IV.

FROM whatever point it is viewed, Prague — the ancient seat
of royalty — affords an imposing picture of strong-built houses

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 75

and lofty towers, with the royal palace in the midst, far above
which rises into the air the dome and steeple of St. V7eit.
The city is built upon several hills, and between them flows
the Moldavia, on whose right bank appears the Wisserhad,
where stood formerly the Burg or Castle of the first Dukes or
Kings of Bohemia, demolished to its very foundation, during
the war of the Hussites, by those wild hordes, out of hatred
to the king ; so that very few remains of it are now to be
seen. Here, however, are still visible some portions of the
steps by which the beautiful and wise Libussa once descended,
on her way to her bathing-room ; and here, also, may be en-
joyed a most lovely prospect of the city and river.

Those portions of the city, respectively denominated the
Old and New Towns, spread along the shore to a great ex-
tent. Innumerable palaces, churches, domes, and towers
elevate themselves above the mass of houses ; and, being
mostly built in the Gothic style of architecture, really have
an effect upon the stranger altogether striking and uncommon.
On the left bank of the river are various eminences, or con-
nected heights, which bear upon their summits many splendid
mansions of the nobility, an abbey, and the church of St.
Lawrence. The houses here descend in a line from the
heights to the stream. A noble freestone bridge, decorated
with various statues of saints, and extending across the river,
unites the Small-Side (Kleinseite) with the Old Town ; and
is defended, at each end, by a strong tower, under whose
arches the road is conducted. Each of these towers is de-
corated with fine carved work, in stone, of the city arms ; and,
at the period of which these pages speak, they were kept in a
state of complete defence, so as either to keep the enemy at a
distance or to increase the difficulties of his passage across
the river.

Such, indeed, in its main outline is the aspect which Prague
bears at the present day ; but, at the period of our story, when
the two noble youths were gazing at the castle-entrance on
the scene arouud, there were several parts of the city which

H2

76 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

looked very different from what they now do, and some of
them bore traces of the violent scenes which had occurred at
Prague during the late times of civil commotion. Never-
theless, the picture presented in the soft light of departing
day, was so enchanting that our cavaliers, secretly feeling
themselves rivetted to the spot, stood with folded arms
watching the gradual blending and massing of the objects
before them in proportion as the twilight deepened. At
length, the buildings immediately adjacent were all that could
be plainly discerned. Shadows had enveloped the trees and
gardens of St. Lawrence, while the small church on its top
and the towers of the Abbey of Strahow withdrew likewise
from observation, notwithstanding the extreme western sky
still glowed with radiant crimson. At this moment, the
moon starting from beneath the dim clouds of the eastern
horizon, and clearing the buildings of the New Town, com-
pleted the magic of the scene.

Wallenstein was absolutely wrapt in ecstacy. Recollec-
tions of the past rushed upon his soul; and the aspect of the
stars, now sparkling one by one from out the deep blue sky,
led him back at length to the subject which had been inter-
rupted. " You ask," he said, " what influence the stars,
which are at such a distance from us, can exert over our fate ?
Can you assign the origin and first cause of those many
changes, — some of a depressing and others of an elevating
character, — which have so often been witnesed in this beau-
tiful city ? There is no effect without a cause, and no cause
but is followed by corresponding results ; and who is able
to prove that these results are not occasioned by the influ-
ence of the heavenly bodies, which, according to eternal and
immutable laws, speed their courses above us ? A vast and
incomprehensive bond of union unites them altogether, a
bond in which our solar system and this earth are undoubtedly
comprised. By their position relatively to each other, the
entire circle is regulated. An unknown system of action and
re-action, and of influences inaccessible alike to our mental

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 77

powers and to our astronomical instruments, pervades the
universe. All forms one grand whole, from which no one
part, be it ever so small, can or dare disconnect itself. As
a stone thrown by a boy into the Moldavia extends its influ-
ence over the agitated water, in circles that spread to both
shores, so one effect, one impulse, reigns throughout all na-
ture. What happens at the distance of millions of solar
miles from us acts upon us ; and our globe cannot suffer any
change which is not felt by every other part of the universe

at the same time"

" Hold ! hold ! you make me giddy !" exclaimed Wulden.
Wallenstein smiled and paused, while the other proceeded ;
" What you have said relating to a system of universal con-
nexion, I have not perfectly understood ; yet, in truth, it does
seem that such a thing is not altogether improbable. Your
prophecies, however, are not included in this system, which
shews nothing more than that whatever is, is, — not that it
may be known previous to the event."

" And can you not imagine that those who have submitted
to the toil of learning the language of the stars (by whose
brilliant characters the Almighty has displayed in the heavens
above, the signs both of the future and the past) may arrive at
the knowledge of still more ? Do you not perceive that the
aspect of these luminaries at the birth of a man, or at the
moment of some great event, may act with decisive influ-
ence thereon ? L/ook upward, particularly at those bodies
nearest and most immediately connected with us — the planets :
— are they not, according to their nature, hot and dry, cold
and damp ; some of fatal, and others of beneflcent influence ?
And thus, do they not affect the earth, aud all that passes on
it ? Their ascension and declination ; their elevation above
the horizon ; their places in the celestial houses of the zodiac ;
the relative proportions of their powers j the absence of cer-
tain stars which are situated in the other hemisphere j all
these matters, although perfectly inconceivable by the un-
learned, possess influence acknowledged and ascertained after

H 3

78 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

the observation of centuries j and through their labyrinths we
are guided by specific rules and examples."

" Were this really true," replied Wulden, " you astrologers
would be the wisest and happiest mortals on the face of the
earth. You would then know every thing before-hand, as
well good as evil ; against the latter you could provide, whilst
the former would be doubly enjoyed."

"Not so," said Wallenstein ; "the stars merely indicate,
they do not warn. What is to happen, happens ; and wo to
the rash man who mistakes their decrees, or thinks to pre-
vent or evade them !"

" To what purpose, then, are your observations, and your
knowledge, if they cannot prevent the evil which hangs over
you ?" asked Wulden $ " 1 would rather remain in my ori-
ginal ignorance."

" That is just according to the different tempers and wishes
of individuals. It is this very inquiry, or secret search, which
so irresistibly attracts myself and many others ; and although
the stars may as yet have announced but little which I can
consider favourable to me, still, the very contemplation of
those brilliant orbs, which dart their rays into my soul, as
well as of the wisdom of the Creator, who has strewed them
in boundless space — appointing to each its particular un-
changeable course, and endowing each with such wonderful
powers — fills my inmost mind with awe and delight. My
heart yearns after the unclouded regions where these lights
shall shine near me in glorious splendour, and I may rightly
learn their language and meaning ; where I shall be divested
of all that is earthly, with its bounded powers and many sor-
rows : I long for the time when the birth-day of eternity (as
Seneca terms the day of our death) shall introduce me to a
state of existence so much fairer and happier !" During this
speech Wallenstein's features beamed with life and animation j
and in the soft light of his eye, as it elevated itself toward the
heavens, there shone reflected the lustre of the stars themselves,
which now gradually became more radiant as night advanced.

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 79

" Oh, do not talk so calmly of the hour when I shall lose
you," exclaimed Wulden, with sudden emotion ; " I cannot
bear the thought !"

Albert grasped his friend's hand energetically, " Believe me,
Leopold," said he, " I am not insensible to your attachment,
which illumines the gloomy path of my existence, and is my
dearest possession upon earth. To be indebted to love, for
happiness, is not my destiny."

"Now, have you really read that in the stars, or are you
indebted for such a piece of information to Predetten ?"

" His statement only jumps with an old suspicion of mine,
although I am aware little reliance ought to be placed on his
gossiping stories. Helen was not born for me : she is aim-
ing at quite a different sort of person. I have," he added,
after some little hesitation, " compared our horoscopes, and
the stars indicate that we shall never be united."

"Yet your suit was apparently successful, and she has
evidently interested you deeply."

" Doubtless ; — should what is fair and noble cease to pos-
sess these excellences in our estimation, as soon as we appre-
hend it to be unattainable by us ?"

" Well, you have a very peculiar philosophy, it must be ad-
mitted, my dear Wallenstein ; I respect, but cannot adopt it ;
and now, good night : we are in the palace-gardens j you are
going to consult the stars, and I will endeavour to see if
I can collect here on earth some intelligence — about the
Swedes."

Thus saying, Wulden retraced his course toward the town,
while Wallenstein proceeded through the dark shades of the
garden in the direction of the observatory, which had been
built by the Emperor Rudolph, for Tycho Brahe, and which,
situated on the heights above the city, commanded a view of
the latter, as well as of the whole country around.

Albert's heart felt oppressed : — he had not confided to his
friend all that lay heavily thereupon. It is true, he enter-
tained for Leopold feelings of sincere affection j but the joy-

80 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

ous, unclouded temper of the latter was little suited to sympa-
thize with his own vague and moody emotions. He, there-
fore, abandoned himself in solitude to the grief that had
seized upon him.

He had long ago perceived that Helen entertained in the
depth of her heart no feelings of love for him ; and her be-
haviour of late, connected with what (however unwillingly,
as he found himself compelled to admit) he had now heard,
placed almost beyond a doubt her being engaged in some ten-
der affair of a clandestine — perhaps dangerous — nature, with
another. The stars, also, spoke the same language, predict-
ing to him nothing but pains and struggles in love.

Indulging these melancholy reflections, he proceeded to-
ward the observatory, from the windows whereof the light of
the study-lamp was already visible amid the gloom of night.
Father Plachy advanced to meet him. " I have awaited your
arrival with anxious impatience," he said ; " the present night,
my son, will prove a remarkable one. The stars exhibit won-
derful conjunctions j but, before we commence our obser-
vations, I would wish to communicate something of import-
ance to you."

Meantime, Wallenstein had disencumbered himself of his
hat, mantle, and sword, and followed his tutor to the table,
where stood the lamp, whose dim light faintly illuminated the
long and gloomy apartment, and scarcely displayed the globes,
celestial and terrestrial, maps, instruments, &c. which were
lying in a corner of the room. In the centre, opposite the en-
trance, were some stairs leading to the observatory, which rose
to a considerable height in the purer air, affording a very ex-
tensive prospect all round the city, and containing telescopes,
quadrants, &c. &c.

By the light of the lamp, Father Plachy looked narrowly at
his pupil, and remarked an expression of deep sorrow upon
his more than usually pale countenance. " You seem agi-
tated, Albert," observed he j " what is amiss ?"

"Nothing of particular consequence j my feelings, you

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 81

know, are constitutionally prompt. The Swedes have again
been committing dreadful ravages on my estates."

Father Plachy shook his head, as if this explanation did not
appear quite satisfactory to him j while Albert, apparently de-
sirous to change the topic, remarked, "You had something of
importance to communicate to me?"

" Yes ; £ have a letter which I received from a friend at the
Abbey of Tepel. First, however, permit me to put one ques-
tion. Are you by any chance acquainted with a person bear-
ing the name of Odowalsky, or Streitberg ?"

" How ? Does he bear both names >"

"He appears altogether an unaccountable sort of character.
By some he is thought a Swede, while others take him for a
Bohemian. It is said, that he assumes both names, at various
times, and sometimes wears the Swedish, and at others the Im-
perial uniform ; and that, as well in Prague, as in the neigh-
bouring country, he transacts many secret commissions."

Wallenstein was silent for a moment ; the news brought by
Predetten recurring lo his mind. " Have you nothing further
to communicate, as to this man's real occupation ?" said he at
length, " for I am unacquainted with him under either of his
names."

" If he be, indeed, the Odowalsky whom I formerly knew,
he is a Bohemian nobleman from the neighbourhood of Eger.
Being of a daring, active spirit, he first enrolled himself under
Tilly's, and then under your uncle's standard j for, provided
he attained the object of his ambition, the means were of infe-
rior consideration. In a short time he had thus risen to the
rank of Lieutenant-Colonel ; and it is not impossible that his
fancy may have been dazzled by the fame of a Mannsfeld, a
Jean de Wertli, or perhaps by that of a Wallenstein. But the
purpose of Heaven was different. His right arm having been
shattered by a ball, he was obliged, whilst in the vigour of
manhood and in the midst of his brilliant career, to submit to
dismissal from the service — and that under circumstances not the
most flattering to his love of distinction and reward. He

82 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

withdrew, accordingly, to his small estate, where, it is said, he
joined the party of the disaffected.

" On the last invasion of the Swedes, his estate was com-
pletely laid waste. Seeing himself reduced to beggary, he
endeavoured again to enter the Imperial service. His bad
conduct, no doubt, may have been the reason of the refusal he
met with ; — but here is the letter relating to him, from the
Father — Prior of Tepel : ' It is well known that this Swedish
officer, who calls himself Streitberg, and is in high favour with
Count Konigsmark, is, in fact, a Bohemian Nobleman of the
name of Ernest von Odowalsky, formerly in the Imperial ser-
vice. Some degree of mystery, nevertheless, may well be
supposed still to hang over the affair, considering that these
troublesome times have thrown every thing into confusion,
changing the friend into the enemy — the enemy into the
friend. Thus much, however, is certain ; that he is some-
times seen in the Swedish Camp, in the Swedish uniform, and
passing by the name of Von Streitberg, while again, at other
times, he is found in various disguises, in the environs of Eger
and even of Prague, where his search for intelligence is gene-
rally successful, and where he seems to use great efforts to con-
ciliate the good will of the common people. Should the Swede
Von Streitberg be one and the same with the Bohemian
Colonel Odowalsky, he should not be unknown to you, as I
recollect you had formerly something to do with him ; and I
have accodingly thought it advisable to direct to you some in-
quiries in the business. At all events, the affair is by no meaas
without importance j for the country, and the city of Prague
itself, must be well known to this man, who would thence,
although a very bad counsellor for us, be a most valuable one
for the Swedes.'

Thus ran the Prior's letter. — Albert knew nothing of the
person described, and the fancy which came across him was
much too vague, and too nearly connected with the secrets of
his own bosom, to allow him to allude to it.

The conversation being at an end, the preceptor and pupil

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 83

passed to their labours. Father Plachy took his seat at the
writing desk, while Wallenstein, whose younger eyes were
better able to make the necessary observations, familiarized
as he was with all the knowledge of his tutor, proceeded to
mount the steps ; and having placed himself at the telescope,
proclaimed, from time to time, the result of his observations,
which Plachy noted down, comparing them at the same time
with the pendulum of the computations.

"It is now a quarter to twelve o'clock," said Father Plachy
to himself: — "Mars must be at his greatest altitude, and ap-
proaching the sign of the Lion." Then aloud : " Where is
Mars ?»'

** Mars is now at his greatest height: he is getting into the
heart of the Lion."

"And where is Jupiter?"

" Mars looks on him with an evil eye : his most kindlyrays
are of no avail, for Saturn is now rising, cold and dark, and
Venus has long since sunk beneath the horizon."

" I knew it well," said Father Plachy, as he mounted the
steps and placed himself at the telescope. " This is a remark-
able but unhappy constellation. „ Jupiter powerless, Saturn and
Mars exerting the most unbounded influence ; — aye, aye ! —
into (he heart of the Lion — the Bohemian Lion — the breeder
of unhappiness is now entering !"

" How say you? Is the worst yet to come, with regard to
this hapless land ?"

" The movements of the Swedes in the circle of Elnbogen
portend no good to us."

" Alas ! how gladly would I be where yonder beautiful lights
are twinkling in the blue vaults of Heaven ; and where the
earth, with all its misery and lamentation, would seem to fade
away into nothing !"

"And to what purpose serves this vain yearning ! So long
as the Almighty wills us to continue here, it is our duty pa-
tiently to endure, to be upright in all our dealings, and leave
the rest in the hands of the Supreme."

84 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

" And should the stars tell us that we can bring nothing to
conclusion ? — That all our striving is but in vain ?"

" Albert, had our forefathers reasoned thus weakly, where
should we now be ? Yes, the stars point out struggles that
await us, and so doing, summon us to watchfulness and prepa-
ration. How speak the ancient philosophers on this subject?
Dignum Jovis spectaculum virfortis cum mala for tun a compo-
situs. Let us watch, and act where it is in our power ; and in
every disaster that befalls our country, be still at hand, if pos-
sible, to extricate her."

"Never," cried Albert, with animation, "never shall you
find me backward to the call of honourable activity. My name
is Wallenstein, and I feel all the obligations such a lofty appel-
lation imposes on me."

" Nobly said, my son,'1 exclaimed Plachy. " It was an Albert
von Wallenstein who, during the war of the Hussites, in the
reign of King Weuzel, stepped forth as the champion and
protector of his country; you were named after him. and
you will not tarnish the honour and fame of such an an-
cestor."

CHAPTER V.

AFTKR a little longer stay at the Observatory, Father
Plachy, wishing his pupil a good night's rest, retired; and
Albert, as soon as he saw himself alone, hastened to execute
a design he had for some time entertained, and which had
received new vigour since Father Plachy had mentioned the
affair of the unknown Swedish officer and his secret occupa-
tions in Prague.

With a good telescope, on such a clear moonlight night as
the present, the whole of the environs of Prague were within
range from the Observatory, and every object around was dis-
tinctly visible, even on the water, and to the castle of Troy

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 85

itself. Should a clandestine meeting, such as those which
haunted his fancy, take place to-night, he would be easily
able to witness it. He might conjure, as if by magic, the
faithless fair before his presence, with her nocturnal para-
mour !

He quickly commenced operations, by fixing the telescope
in a proper position ; and then, taking his station at the glass,
beheld the walls of the castle of Troy — the steps — and the
garden — as if close to him. He was considerably moved at
being thus able, although so distant, to witness all that passed
plainly, yet unsuspectedly.

The stream, silvered by the slanting moonbeams, flowed
silently along. All was still ; not a sound arose, save from
the tremulous motion of the ripples. At that moment, he
thought he saw something appear among the thickets on the
shore. In a few moments after, a boat glided from the dark
covert ; it was rowed across the river by a boatman, and on
the central seat sat a figure completely muffled up. What
would not Albert have given at that moment for a clearer
view of the figure ! But the uncertain light of the moon
rendered this impossible.

At length, the boat reached the opposite shore. The figure
rose, and displayed the form of a tall robust man, holding a
naked sword, which glittered in the moonbeams. He ad-
vanced toward the garden, the small gate whereof opened
in the instant, and out stepped another dark shape, of lesser
dimensions. That this was a female there could be no doubt.
On meeting, they sank into each other's arms; and Albert
sprang impetuously from the telescope.

Thus, then, was confirmed what had been told him by
Predetten ! Helen really did carry on a clandestine inter-
course ; and it was one of an amorous and impassioned na-
ture ! His whole soul was in uproar; he paced the room, to
and fro, with hasty strides ; he would look no more, and yet
the hated scene was still before his eyes, with the shapes of
the man and of the female ; which latter he would fain per-

i

86 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

siiade himself was not that of Helen. These conflicting
doubts almost deprived him of the power of breathing. One
moment, he covered his face with his hands ; the next, he
placed his eye at the glass. He now thought he could per-
ceive, in the dimness of the fast-sinking moon, the objects
of his scrutiny alternately retiring and emerging among the
copses. Soon after, the moon wholly vanished, and nothing
more was to be seen.

The night was, by this time, far advanced, and day ap-
proaching ; but to Albert's eyes came no sleep. He suffered
all the racking pangs of jealousy, combined with the tor-
ments of indecision. Was it, in truth, Helen, or was it not ?
And who was the gallant ? Why did their attachment shuu
the eye of day and of her relations ? Was it conceivable that
Helen could love the enemy of her country ? Yet — had she
not betrayed her preference for the Swedes and for her fellow-
believers ? Was it not apparent that she bore the present
state of things with impatience ? All these questions passed
through Wallenstein's mind, and increased his agitation. But
what if, after all, it should not be Helen ? It was not pos-
sible for him to recognize the female figure so plainly as to
be certain of his unhappiness. Oh, that it were not her ! that
she were innocent, and still true to her duty ! On such a
feeble stay as this did he now rest all his love and his hope.

During this mental struggle, the brief summer night reached
its close. Already dawn was visible on the opposite side of
the Moldavia, and the delicate morning light streaked the
horizon. Darkness gradually retired, like a shrinking ghost ;
the stars were blotted from the heavens ; and day recom-
menced. Suddenly, a thought passed through Albert's mind.
It might now be possible to recognise the unknown female,
should she still remain upon the shore. He stepped, hesitat-
ingly, to the telescope. For some time he could not remark
any thing : the shore was lonely, and the opposite castle —
every portion of which was now distinctly visible — lay, at
this early hour, in seeming desolation before him. He had

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 87

uot waited long, however, ere something stirred the bushes of
the forest, and a boat pushed off, in which sat the unknown.
Our hero commanded a full view of this stranger, who, al-
though seated, seemed tall and robust. He saw, likewise,
the dark mantle, and the sword, which lay unsheathed upon
his knee. The features were concealed by the large hat
pressed low down upon the head, and by the black cloak
which covered him to the chin.

Another figure almost immediately glided along the road
toward the garden-gate. It was Helen ! It was Helen,
beyond a doubt ! Her form and dress, which he knew so
well, were before him, looking so near, indeed, that he almost
fancied he might grasp her ! A veil, which covered her head
and shoulders, as well as the circumstance of her back being
turned to him, prevented his seeing her features : but, as she
hurried along, she chanced to look round for one moment,
with an anxious air, as if to see if any one were observing
her. " Helen !" exclaimed the youth, momentarily deceived
by her apparent proximity. "Helen!" repeated he, in a
reproachful tone ; and, even while he spake, she vanished
through the garden !

Wallenstein sank into a chair. The sad certainty pressed
upon him ; and, for some time, he was incapable of any
clear idea whatsoever. Plans for the future, dictated by
anger, together with an undefinable feeling of degradation,
wildly chased each other through his bosom, until, at length,
exhausted nature claimed her rights. His burning eyes
sought rest, and he threw himself upon his couch. Disturbed
and unrefreshing sleep succeeded to the violent agitation of
his mind, while fancy pictured anew, in hateful connexion,
the grievous reality of his waking moments.

From this ungrateful slumber he started up, and, fastening
his mantle and sword about him, sallied forth to taste the
fresh morning air in the garden, which lay unregarded before
him in all its beauty of shady walks, blooming trees, carol of
birds, and murmur of fountains.

i2

88 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

For some time did he wander about among the dewy paths,
and, at last, unconsciously entered the square of the palace :
hastening, mechanically, across into the second court, passing
the cathedral, and leaving the palace behind him, he had now
reached George Square, and, proceeding in his descent, found
himself at a spot where a low wall surrounds the base of the
steep height which rises above the Moldavia. Here he leaned
over the parapet, while his eye, roving across the river toward
the city, gazed on all, yet remarked nothing : the image of
the loving pair on the banks of the Moldavia was still before
him !

Suddenly he heard a soft voice utter his name. Turning
half unconsciously round, to see who it could be that inter-
rupted him at this hour, and in this solitary place, he beheld
a young girl neatly, although simply attired, standing, with
a timid air, a few paces behind him.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" he
somewhat abruptly asked.

The female, retreating a' little, declined her head as she
replied, " I am Joanna, the daughter of your steward. Your
lordship does not, perhaps, recollect me."

Albert, propitiated by the soft tones of her voice, looked
more calmly on the young girl. She was pretty, and even
something more than that j and her delicate figure appeared
to great advantage by reason of the close-fitting costume
wherein she was attired. A countenance rather pale, full of
the native expression of innocence and kindness, of sweet-
ness and delicacy, beamed out between the ample white frill
and the neat cap which scarcely displayed her beautiful
chesnut-brown hair. Long eye-lids and dark eye- lashes
shaded a pair of clear, hazel eyes, now modestly bent down-
ward, but which had been previously directed toward the
Count with an expression of anxiety. Under her arm she
carried a prayer-book, richly mounted with silver, and to the
wrist of her right hand was suspended a rosary of precious
wood.

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 89

" And what would you with me?" inquired Wallenstein,
in a friendly tone. At this question the colour mounted into
the girl's cheeks, she sank her head deep upon her bosom and
answered not. " Pray, speak >" said Albert. " Can I be
of service to you in any way ?"

" Oh, no ! no !" she stammered; "it is not on my own
account" —

" Has any thing happened, then, to your father !" asked
Albert, growing rather impatient.

Joanna blushed still 'more deeply; when, summoning effort,
she replied, " I fear Lord Albert will think me both foolish
and bold ; but, in proceeding to matins, as I crossed the
palace square, you darted past me, — and, pardon me, my Lord,
for saying it, you looked so wan and agitated, with your hair
in confusion, your cloak carelessly thrown over you, and your
eyes mournful, as if from weeping or watching, thar I was
terriried. I fancied something disastrous had happened to my
father's dearly-loved master, and I scarcely know how or
why — but I followed you !"

" You are a good and a kind girl," said Wallenstein j
" one important, and, it is true, painful subject, at present
absorbs all my thoughts and interest : but fear nothing ; pro-
ceed to your matins, Joanna ; and, when kneeling before the
altar, invoke a blessing upon me. I have need of the prayers
of the innocent."

Tears swelled into Joanna's eyes, but she endeavoured to
check them, for she felt the impropriety of appearing too
much agitated. As she made her farewell obeisance, Albert's
regard dwelt, with peculiar pleasure, on the charming figure
before him. " I thank you, my Lord,'' she said, " for not
being displeased with me, and for treating my childish con-
duct so kindly. If my prayers might avail, you will be happy
indeed !"

" Farewell," cried Wallenstein, kindly; " remember me to
your father. You will both soon see me."

Joanna turned to ascend the hill ; and spite of his absorp-
i3

90 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

tion, her young lord followed her with his eyes. He could
not help feeling astonished at her graceful step and noble
carriage, arid still more that he should not have recognised in
her the pretty child who was once the companion of his
boyish gambols, and whom he still sometimes saw at her
father's.

Aroused by Joanna's remarks, he now cast his eyes on his
dress, and could not but admit that its want of arrangement,
together with the paleness of his countenance (which, after
a uight like the past, he could well imagine), were sufficient
to account for the devoted girl's anxiety respecting the mental
or bodily health of her lord. Her appearance, together with
her touching and unaffected solicitude, had served agreeably to
divert his thoughts j his spirits were insensibly roused; he
looked round with a less clouded aspect ; arranged his hair,
his mantle and cap, as well as he could, and ascended the hill.
As he re entered George Square, the bells of the cathedral were
ringing for matins. His heart felt opened to devout aspira-
tion, while his Creator spoke to him through the echoing
chimes, and invited him to offer up his griefs in prayer, and
thus be enabled to bear them with more composure. He
obeyed this inward impulse, and soon found himself beneath
the venerable pile, the bold form of whose architecture, and
its airy and spacious choirs, were well calculated to elevate
the soul from earth and earthly sorrows. On leaving the
church he fancied he saw the figure of Joanna, and, almost
without reflection, stood still, that he might allow her to
approach. It would seem, however, that he was deceived :
he caught no further glimpse of the steward's fair daughter,
and at length slowly descended the palace-hill.

Joanna, nevertheless, had seen and been seen by him; but
she was ashamed to meet him again, for reflection told her
that her manner of acting had been unusual, and might be
misunderstood. She, therefore, eluded his eye until she saw
him leave the church in the direction of the outer court of the
palace, and then, by another route, she returned home.

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 91

On her way, all the circumstance of the past scene were vi-
vidly recalled. She dwelt delightedly on Albert's complacent
kindness, and on his begging her to pray for him. Alas ! she
had indeed prayed for him, not only that day, but on every
successive morning and evening for a long period! Without
knowing it, our hero had, in fact, obtained sovereign sway over
the heart of his youthful playmate, and Albert von Wallenstein
was, to Joanna, ever since she became capable of thought, the
beau ideal of all manly beauty and perfection. Meantime,
however, she was too prudent to harbour foolish hopes, and
far too dutiful to pain her father with the spectacle of his
daughter gradually languishing from the effects of hopeless
love. Thus strictly governed, her attachment slumbered within
her virgin bosom, and Albert's utter inattention, on his visits at
her father's (for he scarcely ever noticed her), facilitated such
prudent control. Her secret homage, in fact, had no further
sensible influence than merely to render her cold to other
suitors, and firmly determined to live and die in maiden se-
renity, since there existed but one Albert von Wallenstein, and
he could never be her's. This day alone had she been sur-
prised into forgetfulness of her silent purpose. "Alas!" ex-
claimed she, half aloud, "how pitiable that a man, so noble,
rich, and handsome, should still be unhappy. But I can guess
the cause : he loves the proud lady of Troy. Yet, is it possi-
ble that any one beloved by Albert von Wallenstein could give
him ground of uneasiness?" These and similar reflections oc-
cupied Joanna in half- sweet, half-pensive succession, until she
at length reached the Friedland-palace.

As she stepped in at the gateway, she perceived the tall figure
of an unknown man, who, enveloped in a mantle, and with his
back turned toward her, was standing in the middle of the
court, looking cautiously round him ; he then went to several
doors, which he tried to open, and on his non-success, ad-
vanced rapidly toward the gate. All this, together with the
stranger's endeavours to conceal his features with his hat and
cloak, excited Joanna's suspicions; she determined to address

92 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

him, and, in a tone of voice, as firm as it was modest, asked,
"Whom do you seek, Sir?"

The person she addressed stood silent for a moment, draw-
ing his mantle closer; then, having scanned the appearance of
the lovely girl, who at first had taken him by surprise, he
courteously replied, " What I sought I have not found; what
I did not seek — one of the Graces — now stands before me."
Joanna interrupted him, and in a grave manner replied, " Sir,
excuse me if I say your jest is unseasonable : I am daughter to
the steward of the palace, and it is in the performance of my
duty 1 make the inquiry of you.'1 As she spoke she strove,
with something of the natural curiosity of her sex, to gain a
sight of the stranger's features, but could discover nothing save
a pair of flashing eyes, arched by thick bushy eye-brows.

"What has led me here," replied the stranger, "is just
what leads you to ask, my pretty maiden — curiosity : the wish
to view and examine a house, which, if only on account of the
builder, must be interesting to every Bohemian."

" If that be your object you must follow me, and apply to
my father."

" Stop ! stop !" exclaimed the stranger ; " there is no hurry.
Pray remain a moment here with me/' added he, as he saw
that Joanna was moving toward the small postern leading
to the garden.

She replied not, but went on.

" Little obstinate !" cried the man, "will you not stay?'1
and with these words he seized her by the arm.

Joanna tore herself from him, and, measuring the unknown
from head to foot, exclaimed, with indignant voice, " Venture
not again to touch me, coward! or I will bring chastisement
upon you."

The man laughed : "Chastisement!" echoed he, in a jeering
tone ; and stepping forward he stretched out his arm to lay
hold of her, upon which Joanna retreated, calling aloud,
" Father — Ulrich !" and at that moment her father and an
old domestic rushed into the court.

On, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 93

The intruder now turned, and with hasty strides, left the
place.

" Pursue him !' cried Joanna ; " he is here for no good pur-
pose." The two old men did so, but had no chance against the
stranger's comparative youth and celerity. When they came
to the gate, they just caught a glimpse of him as he vanished
down a side street.

" Who was this man ?" inquired the father, on his return.
Joanna related what had passed, adding, that she thought she
had seen the imperial uniform under his mantle.

" That is likely enough ; these German officers are very
bold. But it strikes me I have already seen this person ; and,
if I mistake not, it was among the workmen who are repairing
the fortifications, to whom he gave a world of trouble. There
he was, pacing backward and forward, and asking all sorts of
questions ; such as how long they had yet to work ? what
was to be done ? and what, for the present, to be left undone ?
Then he slept aside, and I thought I saw him commit some-
thing to writing. In short, I take him to be neither more nor
less than a spy."

"It is certainly strange," said Joanna ; "here, too, I met
with him ; occupied in examining the palace on every side,
and trying every door."

" What sort of features had he ?" asked her father : " to-
day I scarcely saw him."

" As he retreated, his mantle flew open," replied the girl,
" and enabled me to view him quite plainly ; he seemed a
robust, strong man, of middle age, with large features and
fiery eyes."

"Your description," rejoined her father, " corresponds ex-
actly. I do not think he is a Bohemian, for I heard him
speak the purest German with one of the workmen."
" His features appear Bohemian."

" No, no, depend on it he is a German," reiterated the old
man, with a good deal of asperity ; " it is always they who
bring misfortune and misery upon us. But now, go to your

94 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

chamber, Joanna, I must look round a little in the house and
gardens. The Count sent yesterday to inform me that he
should come to-day, and that I must be prepared.'' So say-
ing, he ascended the great steps.

Joanna was at once overjoyed and embarrassed at this con-
firmation of Albert's parting announcement. She retired and
dressed herself carefully, yet not so much so as to excite her
father's observation, and then awaited the arrival of the
Count. Mid-day, however, came, and dinner-time passed by,
without his appearing. The hot hours of the afternoon suc-
ceeded, during which Joanna kept within her chamber. From
the window that looked out into the garden, she could see,
while seated at her work, every one that entered ; still, he
came not. The sun was now setting, and the shades of even-
ing descended. The uneasiness of disappointed expectation,
as well as the cooler season, called Joanna away from her
work, which, otherwise, would have occupied her all day. She
stepped out on the open space in front of the hall, and con-
templated the scene of her juvenile sports and amusements.
The fresco-paintings, representing the war of Troy, which
Albert had often explained to the two girls, in his account of
the fate of Hector — (whom she always mentally compared
with Wallenstein,) — called forth warm tears from her eyes.
How different was every thing now ! Her youthful play-
fellow had become a man, and heir to the greatest part of the
Friedland possessions; and thus his sphere of life was far, far
above that of his former friend. " Ah ! why could it not ever
have remained as then '." sighed she. Turning away from
the hall, and sitting down, as evening gradually threw her
dusky shades over the flower-bed opposite the fountain, she
slumbered — and was awaked, as from a dream, by the sportive
playing of the waters ; for her father had caused the garden
to be freshly adorned, and the fountains to be set flowing, in
honour of the Count's anticipated visit.

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 95

CHAPTER VI.

TWILIGHT had almost deepened into night, ere the glad bark-
ing of one or two favourite dogs in the court-yard, announced
the arrival of the long-expected Wallenstein. Father Plachy
had entered the mansion previously, and wondered at his
pupil's unaccountable delay. On their meeting it appeared
that each had been seeking the other.

" It is well I find you here,'1 said Wallenstein, smiling.
" Bertram, pray order some refreshment."

Bertram delivered the keys to his daughter, who vanished
to execute the Count's wishes and her father's instructions.

" Still bad news ! '' continued Albert to his friend ; " the
Swedes are advancing in great force on Eger ; they have levied
very large contributions ; and if these are not promptly sup-
plied, the peasantry undergo the most shameful ill usage."

" These Swedes," observed Bertram, who used the privi-
leges of an old and confidential domestic, " are worse than
the very Tartars, if credit may be given to the tales of horror
I have heard. The fields are turned into deserts ; the villages
present nothing but heaps of ashes ; and the people consider
themselves fortunate, if they have wherewith to support
existence !"

" It seems, indeed, high time for Heaven to avenge such
crimes," said Plachy ; " and yet the conclusion of peace is
delayed just as if we lay on a bed of roses ! Whilst they
tenaciously weigh and dispute every inch of land, thousands
are perishing from misery and despair, and one city falls after
another ! O ! these Swedes ! would that they had all but
one neck, as Nero once wished the Romans had, and I stood
over it with a keenly-edged sword !" He here elevated his
right arm, whilst his eyes darted fire, and his tall commanding
figure seemed to dilate with heroic majesty.

"Reverend Sir," exclaimed Bertram, somewhat astonished,

96 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

" that is a glorious wish ; but would not one be rather in-
clined to suppose you a soldier than a minister of the altar,
to hear you thus speak, and to see you assume so martial an
attitude."

"The times, worthy Bertram," answered the father, "have
overturned all ancient distinctions. Thirty years ago, they
wished to make an entrance for a foreign faith into our poor
country, and to force upon us a foreign king, whose glory the
destroying angel annihilated in a single battle. Surely, then,
a member of a religious order may well venture, at a moment
of the greatest peril, to grasp the sword, pro aris et focis."

"Ay, that was indeed a battle!" exclaimed Wallenstein,
kindling; "what a day of rout — of annihilation — was
that!"

Joanna now arrived, followed by servants, bearing wine and
cold provisions. The table having been decked in the hall,
she was about to retire, but her father desired her to remain,
and dismissed the servants, in order that the conversation
might be continued without interruption.

Joanna now assisted the holy father to take off his cloak,
and was proceeding to undertake the same office for Albert,
but he prevented her, remarking, with a smile, " We have met
before to-day, Joanna."

"Oh, ay! Joanna told us before your arrival,'' interrupted
Plachy, " that she had seen you at the cathedral."

" At the cathedral !" repeated Albert, while his inquiring
eye met Joanna's.

Unseen by the others she made a sign, the import of which
was rightly construed by Wallenstein, who observed that,
upon recollection, he had indeed seen Joanna in the church,
but that she went away after mass so quickly as to prevent
him from informing her that it would be late before he came
home. His eye, all this time, was fixed on the soft features
of the g'ul, who blushed deeper and deeper.

Father Plachy, meanwhile, had seated himself at the table.
Bertram stood in waiting, and served out the wine and pro-

OR, THE SIGXAL-ROCKET. 97

visions ; whilst Joanna retired to a further corner of the hall,
whither the eyes of Albert at times pursued her.

" And is it known to what point these new efforts of the
Swedes are directed ?" inquired Plachy.

" According to the letters received by Leopold's father,
to-day, it is imagined that their operations will be directed
against Elnbogen."

" That I do not believe ; what advantage would they de-
rive from the possession of Elnbogen ? They occupy the
Upper Palatinate, and their troops lie in Saxony. Elnbogen
must naturally follow the fortunes of the larger portion of
territory."

"You view it in the same light with myself; it is evident
they must have something of greater importance in view.
Konigsmark has received reinforcements from General Wran-
gel ; he is withdrawing from the Palatinate, and is already
with his cavalry in Pilsen, where the infantry have directions
to join him. The commandant of Eger, Col. Coppy, is now
busied with preparations for breaking up, and it is he who
has levied such heavy contributions. It is impossible that all
these movements can be confined, in their object, to the cap-
ture of such a place as Elnbogen."

" And what, then, is your opinion, my lord, if I may ven-
ture to ask it ?" said Bertram, anxiously.

" Do you remember, reverend father," said Wallensteiu,
turning to his friend, " what we observed and discoursed
about last night r I fear, Bertram, it is Prague which"

"Prague!" cried Bertram, terrified, and letting fall the
glass which he was just in the act of filling.

" Prague ?" repeated Father Plachy, with a look of thought-
fulness : " Do not your gloomy apprehensions, Albert, lead
you too far ?"

Wallenstein strengthened his opinion by bringing forward
several reasons.

Plachy* s thoughtfulness increased. " It is possible," he
said, at length, " It is very possible, you may be right."

98 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

Bertram stared aghast, and stammered out, "Then you
really believe, reverend father, that the Swedes will take pos-
session of Prague ?"

" I do not say that they will take possession of it," an-
swered Plachy ; " that requires more than their will ; but I
begin to think that such is their intention. We, however,
have arms to defend it against them, and those we will use
with proper activity.''

"And maintain the military glory of our ancestors," ex-
claimed Wallenstein, proudly. " Never would I think of
seizing the sword lightly, as so many young men of our
time" —

" Who seek only for liberty, that they may lead a life of
licentiousness," interposed the father.

" But when our country calls on us, to defend her, or die
for her," continued Wallenstein, " then ought every Bohe-
mian to know and act up to his duty."

" How happy," exclaimed Plachy, " would the late la-
mented duke have felt had he heard you thus speak, Albert !
You seemed always too quiet and contemplative to him. I,
nevertheless, have often said, Let the youth have his way !
When opportunity offers, it will soon appear that his heart is
in the right place ; and that he is a true scion of his illus-
trious stock."

Our hero smiled gratefully on his former tutor, and said,
" I shall be surprised if the governor neglects to take proper
precautions. He must know what is passing in the circle
of Eger "

" As a matter of course ; but you know the old Martinitz.
His proud mind from the first discredited danger, because he
never feared it.

" He has, indeed, proved his temerity on more than one
occasion, particularly at the time of the meeting of that bois-
terous assembly, which had nearly cost him his life."

"You mean when the rebels threw him, together with
Slawata, out of window ? That was, indeed, a hot day,"

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 99

observed Plachy ; " I remember it well ! Even at this mo.
ment, it seems to me as if it happened but yesterday."

"Were you not, reverend father, at that time in Prague?"
inquired Bertram.

" Yes. I was then studying theology at the Clementinum ;
but, before this, all sorts of disputes and commotions had
taken place, as well among the states of the empire, as between
these and the court. — Whoever had the slightest knowledge of
public affairs, foresaw well, that a rupture must inevitably en-
sue, and so it turned out. We students, also, took our share
in the matter — each according to his peculiar views. The day
came when it was said that the imperial viceroy had to deliver
to the states an intimation from their Lord, the Emperor Ma-
thias. The discontented believed, or pretended they believed,
that it contained nothing more nor less than the revocation of
his majesty's favour ; and so they repaired, with evil intentions,
armed, and with armed followers, to the castle. The people
also collected. A murmur, like that of the ocean, ran through
the crowd ; but, in the hall, the voices of the nobility were
heard waxing louder and louder, as their tempers grew more
and more heated. At last a window was flung up, and down
came Count Martinitz and Slawata from the second story !
You can see the spot outside, and the window, very well: —
further down the Castle-garden, where it descends the hill."

"Good Heavens!" exclaimed the steward: " and you wit.
ne ssed that fall ?"

" Indeed, I did," replied Father Plachy : " the sight was
dreadful j and yet they got no great harm !"

" That was an evident miracle," said Bertram, devoutly .
" God wished to prove to the rebels that he could preserve his
faithful followers in spite of them."

"How did it happen," inquired Wallenstein, "that their
enemies did not pursue them, after learning that they had es-
caped unhurt from such a fall? This has always appeared a
riddle to me."

K2

100 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

" Did you not know that they were indebted to a female for
their preservation ?

"A female!" exclaimed our hero?

" Yes: — to the noble and heroic-minded Polixena von Lob-
kowitz. In the terror and confusion excited by the fall, the
servants of the victims hastened toward them, and brought
their lords into the Lobkowitz Palace, which stands yonder,
adjoining the castle. The countess, without delay, most hu-
manely took them in, attending them herself; and when af-
terward the enraged Thtirn, with his armed force, appeared
before her house and threateningly demanded the surrender of
the fugitives, she answered him so calmly and yet so firmly,
that he retired, and the lady enjoyed the happiness of having,
through her heroism, not only restored to health, but also pro-
tected the rescued men."

During this recital, Joanna had approached nearer the table,
and listened attentively with beaming eyes. Wallenstein ob-
served it, and smiling, said to her : — " You are pleased with
this tale, are you not, Joanna ? I think you also would be
inclined, in such a case, to act as Polixena von L/obkowitz."

Joanna looked confused, blushed, and remained silent ;
while Father Plachy, turning to her, said : " Do not be
ashamed of a right feeling, my child. In former times, al-
though but rarely, there were heroes among the weaker sex.
What but heroines were the female martyrs, who regarded
neither danger nor death in their adherence to the faith r"

" I know not/' replied Joanna, modestly, " whether Heaven
would grant me ability, in the hour of trial ; but to act thus
would be my ardent wish and desire, were 1 so circum-
stanced."

" Well said," cried Father Plachy : " such a desire even is
of value before God ; and in stormy times like ours, perhaps
the opportunity may arrive of putting it into execution."

"It is easily to be conceived," remarked Wallenstein,
" that after such an event in the life of any man, the effect of

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 101

it would gradually act on his whole being, and give to the
mind an entirely different direction, as in the case of my late
uncle, when he was determined to embrace (he Catholic re-
ligion."

" Ever since," said the father, " Martinitz has made it a
rule to celebrate his preservation each year. On the present
one, which will find him, as Governor of Prague, the first per-
sonage in the kingdom, no doubt the festival will be still more
brilliant than ever."

" By the bye, you remind me that I have been invited to
this festivity, which will recur a few days hence, as indeed
have almost the whole of the Bohemian nobility !"

" And you will go, I hope ?"

"Perhaps! you know I am no friend to scenes of noisy
merriment !"

" On this occasion, however, you should not miss being
present, as your absence might vex and displease Martinitz.
He attaches much importance to this feast, and is, you know,
of an irritable temperament."

" It is natural for a man to become irritable amidst continual
disputes and provocations," replied Wallenstein : " His hatred
of every thing that savours of Protestantism or of novelty is
inconceivable."

" In times like those we now live in, when all the ties that
bind society together are broken loose, and none can say to
what extremes he may go, (since the current bears him along
with it,) all conspires to force a man into a party j so that at
last, even if you would, you cannot pursue the path of mode-
ration. I have heard of a niece of the Count, who, allowing
herself to be seduced by a Saxon officer from the convent
wherein she was placed, embraced Lutheranism, merely out
of complaisance to her husband. Martinitz never afterward
either heard or wished to hear of her.'1

" Is that perfectly true !" inquired Bertram, attentively re-
garding Father Plachy.

" It is said to be so, but I cannot vouch for its accuracy.

K3

102 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

The lady is said to have been the daughter of a younger
brother, and much beloved by the Count, who wished to
screen her from the broils and disputes of religious contro-
versy, by placing her within the wall of a convent. The
affair is understood to have mortified him exceedingly, and
heightened, if possible, his aversion to the heretics."

" That was to have been expected," remarked Wallenstein,
" and agrees well with the character of the man. We must
icvere Martinitz, although we may not love him ; for,
from the very first, he has been consistently stern and un-
bending."

" The period in which he has lived required such a cha-
racter," replied Plachy, " and while it formed him he has
helped in his turn to model it. From this consideration, I
imagine he will not attach much importance to the present
movements of the Swedes, nor suffer any interruption to the
celebration of the annual festival. He who has been so near
to danger, nay, even in the very midst of it, yet has escaped
therefrom, becomes almost necessarily a stranger to appre-
hension."

" Notwithstanding," said Albert, " I think that some pre-
caution at this time ought to be observed ; so, Bertram, be you
on the watch ; lay in additional provisions, and see that none
of the rabble steal into the house."

" Do not fear any vigilance, my Lord."

The hour grew late, and suggested to the two friends the
expediency of separating for the night. As Albert passed
through the hall, attended by the steward and his daughter,
his attention was caught by the fresco paintings, already
spoken of, and turning to Joanna, " Do you remember,"
said he, " when you and I, and my cousin Isabella, a happy
trio— happy in the possession of childhood and cordial
feeling — gambled about this spot, and enacted the characters
portrayed in those frescoes ? When I was Hector and you
were Andromache, and little Isabel would condescend to no
part beneath the dignity of Queen Hecuba ?"

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 103

"Yes, my Lord!" said Joanna, her eye brightening while
her cheek glowed : " and how we sat together upon the
tables, placed in a line, to represent the walls of Troy; and
our eyes followed you, as you combated with the other boys
in the garden." As if aware that she was saying too much,
the girl suddenly paused.

" Well ! these times are gone by," exclaimed Wallenstein,
" and it is vain to regret them. Indeed their recollection at
present only softens us, aod I think we all rather need the
accession of courage and fortitude. Good night !" and as he
spake, he involuntarily pressed the hand of his old playmate ;
who, with the common reverential feeling toward the feudal
lord — modified, perhaps, by some other more deeply-felt
emotion — raised the Count's hand to her lips and heart.

CHAPTER VII.

THIS evening, which had flitted by .so quietly with the little
party at Wallenstein's garden, had not passed in equal peace-
fulness with Helen. It is true, she had no suspicion of
having been seen from the observatory during her nocturnal
interview, and seen too by the very eyes which, for many rea-
sons, she would have most desired to shun: yet, this night
had been productive to her of such care and anxiety as to keep
her mind in a state of continual excitement.

After their meeting in the Church, it could not escape the
notice of Odowalsky, that the impression he had made on the
lady was not much less powerful than had at first been pro-
duced on himself by the contemplation of her charms. He,
however, was too far advanced beyond the years of enthusiasm,
and had experienced too much of the world, to lose himself in
those ecstasies and languishments which would have rendered
a younger man the most blest or the most wretched of mor-
tals. Helen's beauty had fixed his notice ; her manners had
attracted, and her conversation, so animated and intellectual,

104 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

enchanted him. He saw enough to feel convinced that the
possession of her heart would be disputed by more than one
suitor ; but to gain the affection of so charming a creature —
the probable heiress of the Baron von Zelstow ; — to become
intimate with the owner of a castle in the vicinity of the capi-
tal ; and to govern the feelings and opinions of a high-souled
woman, who would, he persuaded himself, readily embrace his
plans: — all this appeared to the adventurous Odowalsky so
truly desirable, that he embraced the opportunity with intense
delight. Bold and enterprising in the formation of his pro-
jects, and equally dextrous in carrying them into execution, he
soon succeeded, by dint of money and flattery (both of which
he well knew how to apply, according to rank and circum-
stances), in inducing one of the attendants at the Castle to
deliver, first of all, a letter to Lady Helen.

The letter was received : — Helen paused awhile, ere she
broke the seal and read the contents. All her fancies and sup-
positions since she had seen the stranger were confirmed by
the appearance of this same letter; which, to use Odowalsky's
own words, was meant to make her acquainted with the me-
lancholy fortunes of one, who at first sight of her had felt con-
vinced that the bitter cup of his destiny was yet undrained,
notwithstanding it had already so long poisoned his existence.
It appeared, he said, that it was then for the first time his lot
to feel the pangs of a hopeless passion, from which Heaven
had hitherto preserved his tempest- beaten youth amid the din
of camps and arms. Next followed a narrative of the events
of his life, in the light in which they appeared to his wounded
vanity, and intended to serve to Helen as a proof of his can-
dour and his wish to unfold his character completely to her.
Now and theii came instances of self-accusation for past fol-
lies and errors; but always in such a manner as to lead a
stranger, and particularly a female, to extenuate them. The
letter concluded with a pressing request for an interview of one
quarter of an hour, that he might see and speak with her pre-
vious to bidding a final farewell, — for he perceived, he added,

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 105

the folly of his passion — and lhat he, the impoverished, dis-
charged soldier, to whom fate had left nothing but his heart
and his sword, could not venture to contend with the wealthy
youths, the barons of the kingdom, who, favoured by fortune,
might well dare to sue for Helen's hand: although his own
ancient name, it is true, and his deeds during the war, might,
in the eyes of the considerate, entitle him to hold rank even
with these. He then went on to say that he was obliged to
leave Prague in three days, such was the imperious command
of circumstances. Might he previously hope the fulfilment of
his prayer, which he implored Helen to regard as the entreaty
of a despairing man ?

Such was the tenour of Odowalsky's letter, and it did not
fail in its design. His language, betraying, alternately, warmth
and ardour, and grief and composure, was new to Helen. Oc-
casionally it seemed, indeed, as if the stranger's advances were
too bold; but she reflected that he was to be regarded rather
as an experienced and unhappy soldier than an enamoured
youth. " Wallenstein (she argued to herself) would not have
acted so ; but he is a favourite of fortune, and can have no
idea of the grief which devours this man, and which certainly
is but a poor teacher of the winning arts. Then, how affect-
ing is that air of profound melancholy which is breathed over
all his letter ! How unhappy must such a man feel, when, in
the midst of a brilliant circle, he is overtaken by fate, and
hurled back again to obscurity! — to whom, of all that he had
acquired at so much risk, nothing remains — not even the free
use of his limbs or his small patrimony ; and who cannot
reach the throne of his prince, to represent to him the misery
which has been the reward of one of his best servants !"

Quickly as the spark catches the tinder did this bitter
thought seize the heart of Helen, which had long suppressed
feelings of wounded pride, at recollection of the former splen-
dour of her house, while the state of privation in which she
herself had been reared enabled her to sympathise with another
in similar circumstances. She thus entered completely into

106 THE SWEDES IN PBAGUEJ

Oclowalsky's feelings, and excused their bitterness. His bold-
ness no longer offended her, and how could she possibly re-
fuse his request ?

This meeting, however, as it was the first, must also be the
last. She had nothing to fear, and little to venture ; for on
Margaret, who had brought the letter, she could depend, and
it would not be difficult to select a spot where she might speak
with Odowalsky unobserved, although the time must necessa-
rily be after the fall of evening. She replied, therefore, in a
few words, naming the place and hour at which they might
meet in the garden, provided her relations should not leave
their apartments: the evening air, indeed, was yet too keen
for them, although the garden wore the blooming livery of
spring.

The appointed day arrived. Helen still felt some anxiety
as she thought of the possibility of Wallenstein or some other
of the young friends of the family arriving, and detaining her
within. With a beating heart she beheld the hour approach
when Odowalsky would be awaiting her at the small garden-
gate, leading to the banks of the Moldavia. Most fortunately,
and to her great joy, the family received no visit that even-
ing ; and when her uncle sat down with the minister of the
parish to his usual game of chess, and her aunt, with her
spindle, had taken her station near them, out slipped Helen
into the garden, and hastened toward the point of rendezvous.

No sooner had she reached it than she heard a gentle
knock, and, on opening the wicket with a trembling hand,
Odowalsky stood before her. Helen strove to recover her
composure, as they walked on ; and when a little plantation
of trees hid them from all chance of prying eyes, he fell at her
feet to thank her for the inexpressible favour she had granted.
The excitement of the occasion — the beauty of the lady — the
step that she had taken for his sake — and lastly, his own
warm temperament, — had all conspired to raise Odowalsky's
previous liaison to a state of the most passionate ardour,
which was manifested in his whole conduct ; and this mani-

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 107

festation, together with the soldier-like frankness of his
address, proved to Helen equally attractive and novel. A soft
feeling stole over the spirit of the hitherto haughty maiden,
and she felt that caprice or hauteur, even were she disposed to
exercise them, would be here misplaced.

So much mildness, united with mental power, — such be-
witching charms, conjoined with lofty purpose, completed
Odowalsky's facination. Their minds, similarly constituted
in so many points, also possessed in common the principle of
pride, following the instigations whereof, they spurned at all
domination, and indulged in vague hopes of a brilliant futurity.
The time during which Helen might expect to remain un-
observed in the garden was now expired, and how swift had
been its flight ! The curfew sounded its warning voice,
night was advancing, and the lorers were obliged to part, at
the very moment when each began to feel confident that two
congenial hearts had met.

" And when shall we meet again ?" impetuously exclaimed
Odowalsky, " I cannot," and he grasped her hand as he
spoke, " I cannot part from you so soon!"

" It must be !" answered Helen ; " twilight is far advanced,
and I shall soon be called to partake of our usual repast, and
sought for over all the castle. Farewell ! farewell ! for a long,
long time!"

" Not so," cried Odowalsky, eagerly and passionately, " say
rather that I shall again see you soon. To live without you is
impossible."

" But must you not depart from this neighbourhood ?" in-
quired Helen mournfully.

" So I thought a short time since ; but 1 now find that I
shall remain at Prague, at least in the vicinity. Indeed I
cannot depart ; I love you passionately j and if you share my
feeling but in the thousandth degree, you will not refuse nay
request." The fair girl stood indecisive, and made no
answer.

" You reply not, Helen !" he exclaimed, hastily. " You

108 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

are apprehensive — and well you may be so. It can never re-
pay you to venture any thing for a poor forlorn being, who
cannot even offer you his right hand in the dance, while the
noble and brilliant youth of Prague would willingly lay their
riches at your feet j and when even the proud Wallenstein sighs
for you !"

The name thus introduced had a mast unpleasant effect
upon Helen, who continued standing, still silent, and lost in
thought.

" Then it is passed," cried Odowalsky, " you have an-
swered !" and he hurried away.

Helen's heart was torn by conflicting emotions, but love
achieved the victory. She called after the retiring suitor —
" Stay ! Odowalsky, stay ! You shall be convinced that merit,
generosity, and misfortune have attractions in my eyes far
beyond all the endowments of birth or fortune. Learn to
know my heart thoroughly. I am not an ordinary woman ;
and with that frankness of which you have set the example, I
tell you that I love you sincerely. Fate," and she sighed as
she continued, " has bound us both in her chain."

The rapturous excitement with which her lover received
this confession prevented Helen from completing it. He
threw his arm around her, — nor did the whole earth appear to
Helen, as she reposed within that beloved enclosure, capable
of affording any happiness so nearly approaching perfection.

It will doubtless be inferred by the reader that these inter-
views were renewed. As the days lengthened, their wonted
hour of meeting became unfit for the solitary deliberations of
the lovers; another plan was necessary to be devised, and
after long debates, the silence of night was deemed most eli-
gible. The arrangement being made, every desirable precau-
tion was taken ; and intoxicated with a passion whose strength
she could not have believed possible, a brief space of time
before, Helen consented to carry on, systematically, a clan-
destine intercourse, the very danger attending which contri-
buted to heighten its attraction.

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 109

The lovers, in course of time, learnt to know each other
better, and their minds and dispositions became more and
more correspondent. Odowalsky then began to unfold to
Helen the bold plans that he had formed for bettering his
fortune, and for overturning the present condition of things
around him. Flattered by such a confidence, so seldom re-
posed in her sex, the ties that bound her to this interesting
stranger received additional strength, and she returned his
frankness with equal devotion. All she knew — all she could
learn, under various pretences, from her uncle and other dis-
tinguished characters who visited the castle, respecting the
state of the fortifications, and the possible defence of the capi-
tal, was communicated to Odowalsky. She executed several
other missions, also, for him, with punctuality and skill ; and
if the charms of her person, and the certainty of being loved
by this extraordinary girl, had not sufficed, he would have
been constrained to value her, were it only for her usefulness
in forwarding his plans.

But this state of mutual happiness possessed not the seeds
of perpetuity. Odowalsky was often obliged to be absent for
long periods, — his negotiations with the Swedes, who lay at
Eger, frequently calling him thither. In these journeys he
used the greatest precaution, disguising himself, and assuming
different names ; — to the Swedes, for instance, he represented
himself as Colonel Streitberg ; and again, in other places, he
bore other designations. The letters and intelligence commu-
nicated by Helen, and various agents of minor consideration,
were conveyed to him by means of confidential persons resid-
ing in Prague or its neighbourhood.

He had continued, for several weeks, this active and mys-
terious life, when at length the suspicions and consequent re-
searches of Predetten detected a clue to the ravelled web, while
Wulden also made a similar Discovery. We have already
related the communication of these discoveries to Wallen-
stein, and how the latter had himself become a witness of the

L

110 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

meeting of the lovers. Previous to that evening it had,
indeed, become apparent to Helen that she was watched; and
either consciousness, or some accidental dissatisfaction express-
ed by her relations, led her to fear that, in one way or other,
the secret had been penetrated. She awaited, therefore, the
return of her friend from one of his excursions with more
impatience than usual ; and at that very hour when, so little
suspecting it, she stood exposed to the scrutinizing gaze of
Wallenstein, she communicated her fears to her lover, and
suggested the expediency of a fresh arrangement for the fu-
ture, since they were no longer safe from spies ; and a disco-
very at this time, and under existing circumstances, might prove
fatal to his important plans.

Odowalsky replied that she was in all probability right, he
himself having observed, for some days past, that his motions
were watched. ''I encounter every where," continued he,
" distrust and suspicion. It would certainly be most unfortu-
nate if the knowledge of what I am engaged in should get
abroad, in which case all my secret plans would be thwarted.
I have been assured, by a confidential friend, that a communi-
cation was yesterday made to the Governor, which is very pro-
bably connected with the operations of these spies. It be-
hoves me, therefore, to be extremely cautious in all my move-
ments. As for you, my Helen, there is little fear, politically
speaking. No one can identify the happy being who, after
his long and painful wandering, at last finds repose and bliss
in your arms ! Against such a discovery I have provided.
But it has been observed that you have a secret connexion,
and you have, no doubt, been watched by some spy. There
are triflers enough about you to whom the hope of your fa-
vour— which they know not how to acquire — is so dear as to
give rise to their utmost exertions to remove from you all such
as might stand in their own way. Who knows whether this
espionage may not originate among them ? perhaps with Wal-
lenstein himself?"

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. Ill

"That I doubt ;" replied Helen; " Wallenstein, I know,
has renounced the hopes you speak of, and is altogether too
noble to become a spy."

" It may be so : — you must be best able to judge in this
matter," replied Odowalsky ; "for you are acquainted with
these people, while I scarcely know their names But let the
miscreants, whoever they be, tremble," exclaimed he, passion-
ately : " they may, indeed, listen, and spy, and spread out
their nets in the dark, where concealment screens their cow-
ardice;— but this is all they, and such as they, can accom-
plish."

"Be calm, my Ernest," said Helen; "bethink you, we
are perhaps watched even now!"

"You are right, Helen: this unhappy warmth carries me
too far: it has often been almost my rniu, and even yet I am
not old enough to be master of its wild impulses. Helen !"
he continued, clasping her to his heart, " have patience with
me, beloved one, and be my protecting angel! And now,"
proceeded he, in a calmer tone, " know that almost all is set-
tled ! Konigsmark only awaits the arrival of two more regi-
ments of foot, which are to join at Pilsen, and then" —

"Oh heavens!" interrupted Helen, "is the contest already
so near?"

" What! my bold girl !" said Odowalsky, smiling, " do you
tremble? You, who have all along known our plans and
sanctioned them! You have, indeed, and I say it with pride,
shared therein, and will likewise share in the glory and success
of the undertaking."

" Could I only be certain that you would come safely out of
the danger!"

" Shame on you, Helen! you, the soldier's bride — at least,"
exclaimed he, in a triumphant tone, " soon to be so ! — you, the
wife of an honoured deliverer of his native land ! — you — to be
thus dismayed !''

" Nay ; be not angry with me, Ernest j I am perfectly ca-
pable of estimating your prowess, and you shall never find me

1.2

112 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

discouraged} but nature will, occasionally, quail; and the idea
of a night of battle, of horror, and of bloodshed, may well fill
a woman's breast with terror."

" Yes, if, stopping there, you extend not your regard to
what appears beyond."

" But," inquired Helen, timidly, "must so much misery be
the necessary precursor of the good that is to follow ?"

"It must: gentle measures would here be unavailing. The
axe must be laid firmly to the root of the tree to ensure its
fall, and Bohemia must tremble at the sound thereof. Then
shall the long-oppressed raise themselves, and celebrate their
triumph on the ruin of their oppressors ! Then other names
will be heard than those which are now so vociferously
shouted, and possession, also, will pass into other hands."

"Gracious God!" exclaimed Helen, half aloud, for she
shuddered at the idea of what must happen before all this
could be realized.

" I have, already, in fancy," pursued the conspirator, " di-
vided the spoil. I, for my share, will lake the Wallenstein —
Palace; the Swedes cannot refuse me that," added he, musingly,
" when my services are considered."

" And why the Wallenstein-Palace ?" inquired Helen, not
without emotion.

" I feel attracted by the fame of the title, — a fame which,
from the first, has been the star to guide me on my path ! As
for this puny creature, this Albert, I hate him, although I
know him not ; for to go no further — he has dared to fix his
love on you."

"Oh ! banish that from your thoughts," replied Helen; "my
conduct to him for a long time has been any thing but en-
couraging ; yet, since he still troubles you thus, I will engage
to occasion his utter absence from the castle."

" That is precisely what you must not do," rejoined
Odowalsky. " Let him continue to flutter," said he, sneer -
ingly, " around the flame, — to singe his wings, and sigh and
languish, till suddenly the blow is struck, which shall crush

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 113

him and all his confederates in the dust. Heavens ! can he
be the nephew of such an uncle ? There — there is his second
crime. The pigmy does not even venture to dwell in the
house which his giant kinsman built ! What might not a
man with Wallenstein's possessions — Wallenstein's name —
and Wallenstein's mind achieve at this moment ! and what
does he?"

"Albert's principles aie strict," interposed Helen ; "but,
mark me ! — I do riot think him so deficient in courage as over-
prudent."

" Ay ! prudent," repeated Odowalsky ; " the plea usually
set tip by cowards. They are scrupulous, merely because they
are wanting in power and resolution. Should success attend
the undertaking, by another, of what they themselves shrink
from, it then assumes all the characteristics of right and justice ;
for it is always the result which ennobles or stigmatizes."

"Odowalsky ! you inculcate dangerous doctrines."

" Never mind ! you understand me, and the world may
judge as it pleases. But now to business. We must part for
a time."

" Part ?" exclaimed Helen.

" I see no other means of putting our spies on the wrong
scent ; besides, my affairs call me to Eger and Pilsen. I have
still, however, something to do in this neighbourhood, which
being arranged, I go then to Konigsmark to complete what we
have resolved on."

" And shall I not previously see you again ?"

"I can scarcely promise it; our safety and the success of
our plans demand the strictest precaution. And now, let me
hint that, in order to deceive our spies, it would be well if you
were believed to have formed an attachment in another
quarter ; look, therefore, to this, and seek once more the
society of Wallenstein."

" Of Wallenstein !" exclaimed Helen, with emotion.

" Yes ; nothing need be apprehended from him ! I think I
could, without perturbation, behold him by your side."

L3

114 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

" But would this be acting honestly toward him ?

A smile of scorn played upon Odowalsky's features. " What
pleasant recollections," exclaimed he, " has Colonel Odowalsky
connected with these great and powerful ones, that he should
be scrupulous in his treatment of them ? I do not mean that
you are to plight him your troth, but suffer him still to
hope."

The first rays of morning, beaming from the east, flashed
on Helen's sight. "It is now day," cried she, hastily, " I
must depart ; and when," she added, with a sigh, " and
under what circumstances, shall we meet again ? "

" Away with doubt and fear ! I feel certain of success.
Only be you circumspect, and manage things adroitly with
Wallenstein !''

" Ernest !" she exclaimed, "you know that since our first
acquaintance your will has been mine ; yet," — and she hesi-
tated— " is it really necessary that 1 should practice deceit ?''

Odowalsky knit his brows. " Why," said he, " should
YOU want either the power or the will to allure the stripling ?
Do you fear for your own fidelity ?'' he added, suddenly.

"Nay, if you speak so, all my objections are at an end.
Odowalsky, even in this I will do as you desire?''

"Thanks to my dearest wife, for such you will shortly be —
beloved and honoured by all Bohemia !" Once more he pas-
sionately embraced her, and they stepped into the boat.
Helen was proceeding homeward, when a sudden rustling
among the branches on the shore startled her. She looked
anxiously around, and this was the moment when Wallenstein
descried her through the telescope, and became convinced of
his unhappiness.

The noise merely proceeded from a startled bird, which had
flown up from its nest. Helen, therefore, pursued her road
through the garden, but with a heavy heart j for if, on the one
hand, the prospect of that danger which threatened her lover,
in common with every other warrior, made her tremble, so, on
the other, her present duty was almost intolerable j for she

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 115

had engaged to deceive a man whom in her heart she highly
esteemed, and designedly to increase that wrong which she had
already (though unwillingly) occasioned him.

Wallenstein's visit at Troy was accordingly expected with
restless anxiety by the fair conspirator ; but five — six — nay,
more than ten days elapsed, and still he came not ! He had
never remained so long away before, and she knew from his
friends that he was not confined by illness. Her wayward
fancy was piqued, and she pondered over every imaginable
motive that could occasion his indifference. During this in-
terval, too, she received no tidings from Odowalsky; and the
increasing uneasiness and abstraction of her manner at length
called the attention of her friends, who vainly endeavoured to
ascertain the cause.

There was one thing necessary to be done, in order to ena-
ble Helen to meet the coming storm with any degree of reso-
lution ; and that was, to remove her mother from Prague.
For this purpose, she succeeded in creating in the minds of
her uncle and aunt a desire for the society of some person of
their own age and condition j at the same time representing
to her mother a residence in the country, during the hot sum-
mer months, in such glowing colours, that her plan even-
tually succeeded, and Madame von Berka, to the satisfaction
of all parties, became an inmate of the castle of Troy.

Albert passed three days of seclusion in a very gloomy state.
Jealousy, backed by offended pride, aroused the bitterness of
his heart against Helen. The recollection of her beauty, and
his desire for its possession, struggled with these emotions.
His fancy exhausted itself in attempting to account, in a less
suspicious way, for the events of that night ; but his reason
was dissatisfied with the result, although he had witnessed,
it is true, no recurrence of the scene.

In this conflict, his pride gained the mastery ; but though
he abstained from visiting Troy, he felt exceedingly unhappy,
and the only soothing thought whereon his mind could repose,
was of the tranquil evening he had spent in his own garden.

116 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

One morning he received a visit from his friend Wulden,
who, after a short preamble, introduced the object of his call,
which was to state, that every one at Troy was greatly asto-
nished at not having seen Albert for so long a time. " The
old baroness has inquired after your health with the affec-
tionate solicitude of a mother, while Helen is sensibly hurt
at your absence, and has expressed herself on the subject with
evident mortification."

" Leopold !" said Albert, " you know what you related to
me yourself; and what I heard from Predetten j how, then,
can you possibly think or speak of my visiting Troy ?"

" Do you seriously intend to go there no more ?"

" Helen has some secret connexion," said Wallenstein,
evading the question ; " of whatever nature it may be, it does
not become her, to whom I had devoted my heart, and who
might one day have borne my name."

" You consider this, now, as quite evident, do you .?"

" The matter certainly has, since we last spoke of it, ap-
peared to me in such a light as to determine me, at all events,
to absent myself."

" This appears singular : but as you please ! I will not
persuade you to continue an affair which I never thought
suitable for you."

" And why not ?" inquired Wallenstein.

" Because Helen is too fond of power and coquetry, and is
much too variable in her temper, to render any man happy ;
and least of all, a sensitive man like you."

" You think, probably, that you would suit her better," said
Albert, with a forced smile.

"Why not?" replied Wulden. "I should remain per-
fectly unmoved by all the humours and whims that might
crowd her pretty head ! But, to change the subject, — we shall
see you, I hope, to-morrow at the banquetof Count Martinitz?"

'* I have been invited, but" •

" All the principal nobility in Prague and its neighbourhood
will be there, as the Count celebrates the anniversary of his

OR, THE SIGXAL-ROCKET. 117

preservation, together with his appointment as Governor.
Report says that it will be a most brilliant festival."

" The Baroness von Zelstow and Helen will be present, I
presume ?"

" Very probably."

"Then I must stand excused."

"Nonsense!'' said Leopold. " Do not show this proud
beauty so much homage, or set so high a price on her infi-
delity as to withdraw yourself, on her account, from a plea-
sant engagement." Albert, however, was inflexible j and, at
length, his friend desisted from further entreaty.

The disquiet of our hero's mind was increased by this con-
versation. Helen had remarked his absence, had seemed of-
fended thereat, and had expressed a wish to see him. How
was all this to be reconciled with any other connexion of a
tender nature ? And supposing he might have wronged her —
supposing that, in the dim moonlight, or in the dawn of
morning, he might have mistaken another for her — or, as he
could scarcely bring himself to disbelieve the evidence of his
senses — even admitting her to hold meetings, were they ne-
cessarily guilty ones ?

In this manner Wallenstein tormented himself the whole
day. In restless mood, he wandered about the streets of the
city, now calling on an acquaintance, and now taking refuge
in the seclusion of his study. But he still remained firm in
his resolve not to go to Troy, much as his heart beat when
the hour arrived at which he had usually accustomed him-
self to ride thither.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE close of the long summer's day came at last ; and, as the
sun sank behind the western hills, Albert hurried toward the
bridge, to disburthen himself of such a load of uneasy thought?,

118 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

where the beauty of the evening, the serene aspect of the
heavens, along with the golden clouds sped in airy flight ; the
sparkling stream, covered with vessels slowly gliding along ;
the activity on each shore, all combined to present an agree-
able and diversified scene. Wallenstein stood and enjoyed
the exhilarating prospect, delighted with his native land, until
her former state rushed upon his mind — what she might have
been — and what she now was ! Gloomy ideas again floated,
like the tlouds across the firmament, over his mind, which had
scarcely tasted of the reviving calm, when suddenly, as he
looked to the right, he perceived, across the Moldavia, that
spot where, a week before, he had stood, in a far more mourn-
ful state of mind than he was in even to-day, and where first
the soft voice and sylph-like figure of Joanna had beneficially
impressed him. With delight did he retrace that circumstance,
together with the evening spent at the Friedland-Palace, which
had quietly terminated so tempestuous a day. It now oc-
curred to him that the scenes of his cheerful boyhood, and the
innocent society of Joanna, might again tranquillize him ; and,
with this idea, he proceeded hastily across the bridge and
through the streets toward his solitary palace.

He found the gate locked, and the court and garden de-
serted, as they had usually been since his uncle's death ; but,
having obtained entrance, he perceived Joanna seated in the
hall at a small table, whereon lay some needle- work. She
was not, however, working at that moment, but supporting
her head upon her hand, with her back toward the entrance,
and, consequently, toward Albert. She was apparently
gazing, lost in thought, on something which she held before
her. Wallenstein drew nearer, but Joanna heard him not :
her eyes were directed, with a mournful expression, toward
the object alluded to, which was apparently a relic-case, or a
portrait ; and Albert even thought he could distinguish that
she had been weeping.

At this moment she raised her head, and became aware of
the presence of Wallenstein ; on seeing whom she sprang up,

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 119

blushing deeply, and hastily concealing that which she held.
Albert greeted her kindly, but could not help remarking that
he had surprised her in deep thought. She endeavoured to
excuse herself by pleading the heat of the day, which, she
said, rendered it quite impossible to keep constantly at work,
and but too effectually invited either to repose or reverie.
At this moment Bertram advanced ; and Joanna, retiring a
few paces, employed herself in giving the birds in the aviary
their evening meal.

After awhile, the trio pursued their walk over the grounds,
and, at every turn, some fresh object presented itself which
had formerly communicated enjoyment — sympathetic enjoy-
ment— to Albert and Joanna. Thus, when they arrived at
the lake, the boat, as it had been so many years before, was
found tied to a post upon the bank ; and the darkening sky
was studded with stars, whose reflecting images smiled peace-
fully on them once again, from out the blue waters. Wallen-
stein requested Joanna to step into the little bark, and said he
would row her, as in former times, along the lake. Bertram
offered his assistance, but it was declined. " We will be
children once more, Joanna," exclaimed Wallenstein, " and
fancy ourselves still at that period when every sport could
please."

Joanna stood a moment hesitating on the shore, whilst un-
defined feelings arose within her breast. On her father's
loosening the boat, however, she took the extended hand of
Wallenstein, who helped her in, and regarded her with some
surprise as he felt the trembling of hers. " What !" he
asked, " are you afraid to trust yourself upon the water ?"

"Oh, no," interposed Bertram ; adding, with a laugh,
" she often rows herself."

"Well, then, perhaps she feels no confidence in my ability,"
observed Albert, smiling in his turn.

" Indeed I do !'' cried Joanna, hastily seating herself
straightway in the boat ; " I am not afraid 5 on the contrary,

120 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

I enjoy the pleasure of the excursion, and feel very grateful to
you for it."

They now glided along the calm surface of the water, while
Bertram remained standing upon the shore, gazing on them
with a peculiar expression of countenance. A pleasant con-
versation ensued between the young people : the beauty of
the evening, the reflection of the heavens in the clear waters —
the agreeable contiguity of the well-kept gardens, which,
viewed from the end of the lake, seemed to blend, in pleasing
deception, with the distant trees of the Lawrence- Hill — these,
together with the memory of former hours, and the enjoyment
of the present, all combined to silence and subdue the disquiet
which had seized on Albert during the preceding part of the
day. After so many years had passed, it gave him singular
pleasure to row the playmate of his youth over the same lake,
and to behold her graceful form in blooming womanhood
floating along in the dancing vessel to the efforts of his
vigorous arm.

Their little excursion finished, Bertram proceeded to secure
the boat, and in doing so scratched his hand. Joanna per-
ceiving blood to flow, was alarmed, and suddenly drawing forth
her handkerchief, the gold case she had so hastily concealed
rolled out upon the ground. Wallenstein, with a mingled
feeling of gallantry and curiosity, immediately stooped to pick
it up, before Joanna was aware of the circumstance. In its
fall the case had sprung open — revealing the portrait of a man
with auburn hair and noble features.

On turning and seeing the case open in the Count's hand,
Joanna uttered a faint cry. Albert presented her with the
portrait, saying in a stiff and somewhat gloomy tone : " May
I ask who this is intended to represent ?" The girl blushed
and hesitated, at the same time hastily taking the case from
Wallenstein's hand : " It is a gift of my mother's ;" she at
last replied, in a voice scarcely audible. " Oh, enough, enough,"
interrupted Albert ; " 1 have no right to dive into your se-

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 121

crets." Much agitated, Joanna replied, " Most certainly,
my Lord, it ought to be no secret to you : if" — and here she
stopped.

" Farewell, Joanna ! Good night, Bertram !" and so say-
ing, Wallenstein took his hat and departed. Joanna stood a
moment, as if debating within herself : she then determined
that the Count should not remain impressed with any sus-
picion, and therefore followed him through the court-yard.

" My Lord," she said, " hear me but one word." Wallen-
stein turned round, and looked on her with surprise. " Would
it be agreeable to you, my Lord," she pursued, " to take the
trouble to come here again to-morrow afternoon, and favour
me with an hour's audience ? You shall then learn" —

" What are you about, Joanna ?" whispered her father,
coming up : — " Consider your promise to me !"

" I know, father ; but I could not then foresee such an
occurrence as the present. I place the utmost confidence in
Count Wallenstein's honour."

" No," answered Albert, " I wish not to have your secret.
I, also, have confidence in you; you, Joanna, can have nothing
to keep secret for which you need blush."

" And therefore, my Lord, it is that I repeat my request for
your audience to-morrow. You shall know all: and you will
be able to distinguish between weakness and guilt."

Wallenstein was silent. Joanna's last words had excited
within him a host of surmises. It should seem, beyond a
doubt, that she entertained an unfortunate passion for the
original of the picture, and this conviction pained our hero,
without his exactly knowing why. He promised to come,
however ; but added, with a smile, " I am not solicitous to
hear your confessions. Joanna. Think, therefore, for your
own peace, that you have promised nothing — farewell!" A
conversation now ensued between the father and daughter, as
to the propriety of the intended disclosure, which ended by
Bertram telling Joanna that she was a wilful child, and hoping
no harm would come of it. His ill humour, however, if he

M

122 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

displayed any, was soon dispelled by the smiles and endear*
ments of the affectionate girl.

Wallenstein continued to muse upon the circumstance that
had just occurred. Had this maid likewise, already, confided
her sympathies to another ? Was she, like Helen, involved in
some mysterious intrigue ? But what imported it to him if
she were ? Alas, so little was Wallenstein's self-know ledge,
that he forbore to trace this anxiety to its only legitimate
source. In such a mood he strolled on, until, at a solitary
spot near the Convent of the Capuchins, his abstraction was
dissipated by a confused sound of voices and clashing arms.
Astonished, he paused, listening attentively, and then hurried
toward the spot from whence the noise proceeded. He
found a man wrapped in a mantle, his back against the wall,
defending himself with a drawn sword against three antago-
nists ; and it should seeem that he gave them all enough to
do, although using only his left arm.

" What is the matter here?" cried Wallenstein, as with
unsheathed sword he suddenly advanced upon the assailants,
who appeared to belong to the garrison. " Are you not
ashamed to avail yourselves of such odds ?"

"He is a villain!" shouted one; "a Spy!" exclaimed
another ; " a German dog !" bellowed the third, at the same
time redoubling his blows.

" Whoever you are, noble stranger," cried the attacked
man, with the purest Bohemian accent, " stand by me ! I am
assaulted by assassins."

Wallenstein did not consider long ; but impetuously charging
the soldiers, their intended victim was soon freed from such
an unequal contest. " I thank you, Sir," he now said, " I
am an officer and a nobleman. These rascals attacked me on
my way home, doubtless meaning to rob me."

" Villain ! it is not your money, but your life we want,"
exclaimed one of the three, attempting, but vainly, to rally
his comrades. " We had vowed your destruction long ago,
ever since we first saw you sneaking about the fortress."

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 123

" He is the servant of the Swedes," said another of these
heroes.

" He is a Swede himself," rejoined the first speaker, again
endeavouring to get at the object of his hate. At this
moment, the moon arose above the wall beside them, and
illumined the whole scene.

"Ha! Conut Wallenstein !" exclaimed one of the assailants.

" Even so," replied Albert ; " and I am sorry to find sol-
diers of the Imperial army engaged in so shameful a proceed-
ing." The men reluctantly sheathed their weapons, and
retired.

Albert had now an apporlunity to examine the person of
the stranger. He was a man of tall, robust figure, and ap-
parently of middle age. His hat had fallen off in the conflict,
and the moon shone brightly on his strongly marked coun-
tenance. His thick mustachios and animated eyes, with the
profusion of raven hair that fell down either side of the laced
collar of his doublet, presented a striking, though not a very
pleasant tout ensemble. A disagreeable but vague feeling
agitated Albert, as the stranger stooped to pick up his hat and
returned his sword into its scabbard.

The silence was broken by the rescued man : " I am most
happy, my Lord, that this fortunate accident has not only
made me eternally your debtor, but has also acquainted me
with the name of my noble-minded deliverer. Believe me,
you have rot obliged au ungrateful man."

" May I ask," said Wallenstein, in reply, " with whom I
have the honour to converse ?"

" My name is Berka von Duba ?"

" Berka von Duba?" repeated Albert, slowly and with
emotion.

" Is it known to you ?" inquired the other, a peculiar smile
playing about his lips.

" It is the name of one of our oldest families," replied Albeit.
" You are an officer, it appears.''

" I once was so : but you see," and he drew back his

124 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

mantle, as he spoke, " what has happened to my right arm.
Such is the result of my service, and my reward has been
a discharge."

"Ay ! that is a melancholy fate which you share in common
with many others."

"True ; such are the thanks awarded by the mighty every-
where. Were it permitted me to illustrate small things by a
reference to great, I should quote the instance of your glorious
uncle. Like him, I have served my country to the best of my
power, and like him, too, have I been rewarded. The great
Friedland was treated with shameful ingratitude — the guilt
imputed to him, never proved."

" Sir !" interrupted Albert, " be pleased to spare any further
comment on my uncle. The subject you allude to I have re-
solutely forbidden myself to touch upon."

" It is well if you can forbear ; but fortune has smiled upon
you, while on me her frown has been unceasing. My small
possessions, the scanty remains of my paternal estate, (the
greatest part of which I staked during the war in Austria),
have been plundered and fired by the Swedes ; and here I
stand, at once abandoned by my native country, and a suf-
ferer from the oppression of the enemy."

" Have you not tried to awaken the notice of the Emperor ?
Ferdinand is kind and just, and I doubt not ."

" I have introduced myself to Field Marshal Colloredo. He
encouraged me with hopes that, upon the settlement of peace,
(which he trusts is near at hand) all demands would be fully
satisfied. A notable consolation, truly ! soon pronounced,
and costing nothing to the giver. But, farewell, my Lord !
I see, we have reached the Palace-Square. Your path pro-
bably is toward Konigsburg or your palace in the city ; mine
lies in another direction. Accept again the thanks of an old
soldier — not so much for his life, which you have saved, but
for the joy I feel in finding the nephew of a great hero, the
inheritor of his generous and noble mind." They exchanged
courtesies and parted.

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 125

How had this stranger styled himself? Was he indeed a re-
lation of Helen ? If so, how was it he had never been heard
of before ? Did not every circumstance, all which the soldiers
had said, all he had himself communicated — lead Wallenstein to
a contrary conclusion ? to the presumption that he was that
very Odowalsky spoken of in the letter from the holy father of
the monastery of Tepel ? Upon further re6ection, how many
painful recollections were awakened by the stranger's appear-
ance ! Did not his figure, his whole bearing, recall to mind
the fatal image of the unknown in the boat, on the Moldavia
shore, and — in Helen's arms !

Whilst in Prague, some few excepted, they were unappre-
hensive of danger from the Swedes, nourishing the hope of
peace, and enjoying the rare moments of tranquillity, the
Swedes themselves were in Pilsen, where Konigsmark now
gradually drew together his whole force. All the regiments
were soon united, and they were only waiting the arrival of
Colonel Coppy, the commander at Eger, who was to join with
a detachment of cavalry.

Odowalsky was likewise expected. He had been constantly
busy of late in going to and fro between Prague and Eger.
His former acquaintanceship with the country; his connexions,
in Prague, and its environs, with men of various ranks ; his
dexterity in assuming different disguises ; all conspired to pro-
cure him the opportunity of collecting various information, and
of putting himself in possession, as well through his own ob-
servation as from sources to be depended on, of the most com-
plete knowledge of the situation of things. Thus did he turn
to account his connexion with Helen ; whilst she was happy
to serve her beloved friend, and to aid in the grand plan which,
as far as he considered necessary, he had revealed to her.

The day and hour were now determined on. Helen knew
it ; indeed, her intelligence had contributed much toward this
determination, for she it was who had, long before the festival,
given intimation of its taking place to Odowalsky, and had
likewise communicated to him all the arrangements ; as that,

M 3

126 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

after the banquet, there was to be dancing, and, on the ap-
proach of night, a display of fire-works in the palace- garden.
The greatest part of the nobility and the principal inhabitants
of Prague had been invited ; and it was to be supposed that
both fhe higher and lower classes would banish apprehension,
and that the military regulations around the palace would be
less strictly attended to. This night, therefore, was selected
by Odowalsky, for the execution of his plan ; and, two days
previously, he proceeded to Pilsen, in order to make the final
arrangements with Count Konigsmark, with whom he had
not, as yet, personally communicated.

Konigsmark's head quarters were fixed at the council-house
in Pilsen. The arrival of Odowalsky was immediately an-
nounced to him, and a nephew of Konigsmark conducted him
to the General.

It was in the same house in which, many years before, the
Duke of Friedland had, a short time previous to his tragical
end, summoned his generals about him : and as Odowalsky
stepped into the ancient hall, with its lofty arched windows,
decorated with captured banners, figures of ancient Bohemian
princes, &c. the scene exhibited on the former occasion re-
curred to his mind, and agitated him greatly. He was now.
in effect, preparing to do that of which Friedland had been
accused, and for which he had so dreadfully suffered.

He soon overcame this involuntary feeling, however, and
approached the General, who was standing at the other end
of the hall, surrounded by several officers, at a table covered
with maps and plans, amongst which Odowalsky recognised
several representing Prague and its environs. The General
advanced from behind the table : he was a man between forty
and fifty, of a tall and powerful figure, with broad chest and
shoulders. Around his high forehead his auburn hair fell in
profuse but disordered locks ; a broad-sword hung in a blue
scarf at his side. A large aquiline nose, and lips covered with
thick mustachios, gave to his countenance an expression of
haughtiness, nay, almost of scorn.

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET.

" You are the imperial officer," he hegan, as he returned
Odowalsky's salutation vviih a slight inclination of the head,
" who engages to deliver Prague into our hands ?"
Odowalsky bowed assent.

" Have you well weighed and examined every thing con-
nected %vith this enterprise ?"

" I would not else venture to appear before your Excel-
lency."

" It is a hazardous game. We are not strong enough to
attempt a regular siege of the city ; and, therefore, what is to
take place must be in the shape of a coup -de-main."

"That is precisely what I intend. The situation of things
is well known to me ; and I have not calculated on success,
in ignorance of the chances both for and against it."
" You promise largely, Colonel Odowalsky."
"My honour rests upon the issue — perhaps my life. These

pledges"

" However great, do not exceed the risk I run in trusting
my troops, myself, and the fame of this undertaking, to the
word of a man who — excuse me, Colonel — has not been uni-
form in his fidelity."

Odowalsky, with difficulty, bridled his impetuous feelings,
whilst he replied, " Your Excellency, perhaps, may think it
troublesome to occupy yourself with the motives of one
comparatively obscure ; otherwise, it might easily be shewn
that the unheard-of ingratitude wherewith J have been treated
suffices to dissolve every tie of country ; whilst to you I am
bound by the most sacred obligations. I am a Protestant."

Konigsmark replied nothing to this ; but there played
about the corner of his mouth an expression of incredulity.
" In what manner," he inquired, at length, " do you propose
to carry your plan into execution ?"

" For some time past, the walls of the fortification have
been undergoing repair. The work, as there are several
breaches, proceeds but slowly ; and, at these points, it would
be easy to introduce a body of men."

128 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

" Yes, if they leave the breaches unguarded," interrupted
Konigsmark ; " but that is scarcely to be expected."

"The garrison of Prague," answered the Colonel, "is
small, and barely sufficient to supply all the posts of so large
a city. I have, besides, acquaintances amongst the officers —
friends and fellow-believers. It will not be difficult — in fact,
it is already agreed, that the watch-posts behind the palace
and onward toward the Loretto Square should be placed in
the hands of men upon whose attachment to our cause I may
safely depend. A troop presenting themselves in this quar-
ter, and giving the proper word, would find no resistance."

"That may do," said Konigsmark, thoughtfully: "go
on, sir."

"The day after to-morrow, the Governor, Count Martinitz,
gives a grand festival, to which the whole of the nobility in
Prague are invited. After dinner will follow a ball, and. at
night, a display of fireworks. These entertainments at an
end, the good wine will doubtless dispose every one to sound
slumber — and our time will arrive."

Konigsmark remained silent some moments, and then re-
plied, " Your scheme is not bad. We will consider it, and
acquaint you with our determination. For the present, fare-
well, Colonel von Odowalsky !" He motioned with his
hand, and Odowalsky retired, accompanied by Konigsmark'*
nephew, who, perceiving that his uncle's manner had offended
the stranger, sought, by friendly converse, to efface the un-
pleasant impression. They were talking together respecting
the present situation of Prague and the feelings of the people,
when suddenly the sound of trumpets and the loud prancing
of steeds announced the arrival of cavalry. They hurried to
the window, and found it was Colonel Coppy, who had ar-
rived, with his regiment, from Eger. Young Konigsmark
went directly to announce this intelligence to his uncle ; and,
meanwhile, the Colonel had dismounted, and was working his
way up stairs under the weight of his huge military cloak.

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 129

Odowalsky advanced to meet him, and was greeted with a
hearty and vigorous shake of the hand.

" Already here, Colonel ?" said he : " but how is this ?
You seem out of humour. Has not the General closed with
your proposition ?"

"The General has received me in a very strange way — as a
petitioner suing for a favour, instead of a man who is on the
point, with great sacrifices and personal danger, of rendering
to the crown of Sweden, and the new creed, a service of the
greatest importance."

"Never mind that, man !" cried Coppy; "We all know
the General. He is proud, terribly proud. His ancient
house, and the important part which his ancestors have acted
in Brandenburg and Sweden render him haughty. He does
not regard us lesser nobles as at all his equals. We must
excuse these pretences in him, for he possesses the qualities of
a soldier and general in the highest degree."

" I acknowledge his merit ; I bow to his rank ; and will
allow, too, that his ancestors may accidentally have had more
opportunity of distinguishing themselves than mine. But, as
to every thing else, we are equals. It was not that feeling,
however ; it was not pride of ancestry which prompted him
to behave to me in a manner I might almost term inimical.
It looked rather like personal antipathy."

" Do not believe it ! The Count well knows how to esti-
mate your services, and I can assure you, considers your pro-
posal as extremely welcome and highly important, expressing
himself in strong terms of your courage and activity."

At this moment;, the door of the inner apartment opened,
and young Konigsmark came to summon Colonel Coppy to
an audience, at the same time bringing Odowalsky an invi-
tation to dinner.

Before the commencement of that meal, the General held
a short council of war, upon the subject of the intended
expedition.

At table, an air of hilarity was universally diffused, and the

130 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

conversation grew animated j yet it was felt that the presence
of the General operated as a restraint, and it was only when,
on the excuse of bnsiness, he retired, that the officers took free
scope. The intended march to Prague, which, according to
the decision of the council of war, was fixed for the next day,
was the principal topic. Inspired by wine and reckless gallan-
try, each expressed himself in his own way on the subject.
Some looked upon it as extremely hazardous, while others re-
garded it as mere child's-play. Some of the elder officers
thought it shewed rather too great precipitancy to break up on
the morrow for Rakonitz, as was the order — conceiving that
more minute information should have been previously ob-
tained.

" What!" exclaimed Colonel Coppy, "stop and risk the re-
ceiving news of peace before we have done with Prague?"

" There is little fear of that," interrupted a young major ;
" the diplomatists, sojourning together at Osnabriick, are too
slow in their movements. Depend on it, ere they have
weighed out by the ounce each advantage and disadvantage of
the contending parties, we shall have time enough to take pos-
session of all Bohemia."

" The matter," said Odowalsky," must not be imagined quite
so easy. The taking of Prague may, indeed, be facilitated by
the measures already concerted, and by the prudent manage-
ment of circumstances ; but, gentlemen, the Bohemians will
not be so quickly vanquished as you seem to think. Our na-
tion is valiant, as has been proved more than once, to the ter-
ror of the world."

" I do not mean to dispute that, Colonel," replied the
Swede, " but we have not to do with the Bohemians as a na-
tion"—

•' Alas, that is but too true," whispered Odowalsky to him-
self,

" But with the Emperor's army," continued the other,
" which, as every one knows, is weak in number, and at pre-
sent unprovided with any commander of eminence. The

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 131

happy times of your country are past. Your Tilly and Wal-
lenstein exist no longer, while with us an unfading race of he-
roes has arisen in succession since the death of the great Gus-
tavus Adolphus."

Odowalsky, after a moment's silence, replied, " Bohemia
does not want for similar spirits, but faction and envy have
driven them from their proper spheres."

" Well, well, gentlemen, pray let us have no disputation/'
cried Coppy ; " of what use is this war of words? Our argu-
ment should be the sword, and our eloquence, thunder from
our artillery; — rhetoric which, I trust, will prove convincing
the day after to-morrow, when we arrive at Prague. Come,
here 's success to our enterprise."

The officers all rose, and, amidst loud acclamations, the
toast was drunk; Odowalsky joining, with the uneasy dissa-
tisfied feeling of a man conscious that he is not in his proper
place, nor sharing in a sentiment honourable to him. He
sought to repress this consciousness by vociferation : — " The
capture of Prague," said he, " will benefit the good cause in
various ways. In losing that city, Ferdinand loses the whole
kingdom : his ambassadors at the congress will be forced to
lower their tone, and thus the protestant states, particularly the
Swedes, will be enabled to enforce their just demands. To
any one capable of taking a wide survey of things, it must be
evident that the capture of Prague is not only important as s
single military enterprise, but as having an influence on the
general state of political relation all over Europe."

" That seems," observed the major, " giving your native
land too commanding an attitude."

" Not at all !" interrupted Odowalsky. " In Bohemia the
first spark of the thirty year's war was kindled; and in Bo-
hemia, and nowhere else will it be extinguished. It has been
the cradle both of the war and the reformation, and the birth-
place of Huss."

" In the name of good-fellowship," again interposed Coppy,
" what have we to do with either Huss or Luther ? Let us

132 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

be silent respecting those whom we do not know, and rather
think how we shall enjoy ourselves in Prague. That city is
extremely beautiful, I have been informed."

" Have you never visited it ?" asked Odowalsky.

" No, but I have heard much of its magnificence, and of the
beauty of its palaces and churches."

Their copious libatious had now worked deeply upon these
worthies, and they proceeded, in the intoxication of the mo-
ment, to draw out a list of the finest mansions in the devoted
city, and cast lots for their possession. Odowalsky, as he had
previously intimated, though half in joke, to Helen, made
choice of the Wallenstein-Palace.

But this wild scheme of appropriation quickly gave birth to
sharp and angry cavillings. Some who had been backward in
fixing their choice, were inclined to regard the whole matter as
a frolic, while others professed themselves serious in abiding
bv their selection, and maintained that they would resent the
interference even of the General himself. Thus at length
they separated, half merry, half disputatious, and almost
wholly intoxicated.

Odawalsky wished to return to Prague, where some mat-
ters were, he said, still to be arranged. With difficulty he
obtained permission from Konigsmark ; and he could not but
feel that the portion of confidence placed in him by that chief
was very small. Having given his word of honour to return
next morning, he hastened, in a sufficiently gloomy mood, to
Prague, where he was desirous, if possible, to have an inter-
view with Helen bef >re the decisive moment. He wished to
make final arrangements for the safety of herself and her re-
relations, as well as to gather fresh courage from the contem-
plation of her charms, and the consciousness of her love to
him.

The length of the way, however, from Pilsen to Prague, and
the many affairs he had to attend to there, with other circum-
stances, prevented him from satisfying these desires. He was
forced to content himself with informing Helen by letter of

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 133

what was necessary to be done, and to leave the rest to
chance.

It was on the evening of this very uneasy and busy day,
that, in the course of his wandering about the fortifications,
(where he was anxious to seek out the most advantageous
point for the entry of the Swedish troops on the following
night), he was attacked, first by the reproaches and then by
the swords of some soldiers of the garrison, and forced to
draw for bis liberty and life. VVallenstein's intervention, as
we have seen, saved him ; and, out of temper, and discou-
raged by all that had passed during the last two days, the
apostate Bohemian set out an hour after that encounter on his
way to Rakonitz.

Early next morning he arrived at Pilnitz, where the Swedes
were already encamped. They had marched all night, and
Konigsmark had taken every precaution that prudence and
energy could suggest, to keep their arrival as secret as pos-
sible. The place was surrounded by cavalry, who allowed
none, under any pretence, either to quit or enter the town.
All the couriers were detained, as were even the people who
had been found in the fields during the march. Thus was the
near approach of so strong a force to the capital concealed,
and that blow silently prepared which, in the succeeding night,
was to crush unsuspecting Prague.

CHAPTER IX.

ON the morning of the fated day, whilst the swords of the
Swedes were sharpening, and their fire-arms loading, the gar-
dens and apartments of the royal palace in Prague were filled
with preparations for the approaching festival, and almost all
the citizens displaying holiday faces and holiday garments.
At Troy, also, the family were about to take part in this
general gala. Arms and accoutrements for man and horse
were furbishing in the court-yard. A committee of taste was

N

134 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

in deep deliberation in the ladies' apartments, deciding on the
various merits of silk and velvet — pearl and diamond; all, in
fact, betokened gaiety.

Helen's breast alone was tormented by anxious forebodings;
her active imagination figured a thousand scenes of blood-
shed, terror, and distress, in which her friends and her lover
were equally involved. The greater her outward endeavours
to assist, (according to Odowalsky's wish.) in diffusing among
those around a spirit of unconcern and of perfect devotion to
the pleasures of the moment, so much the greater, also, her
inward consciousness and struggle to maintain her presence of
mind.

Her mother, it is true, was safe. But, almost in spite of
herself, there was another person whose impending fate she
could not look on with any portion of steadiness — Albert von
Wallenstein. The idea of his being awakened from unsuspect-
ing slumbers, unarmed, and surrounded by a ferocious enemy,
bloody, disfigured — perhaps, mortally wounded — and thinking
of her in his latest moments ! — this idea was intolerable, and
ceased not to haunt her fancy all that restlessnightand morning.

No ! she could not think of seeing her generous-minded
friend perish. She was bent on his rescue; she knew her
unbounded influence over him, and resolved to take advantage
of it, to save him, without, at the same time, violating those
obligations of secrecy under which she lay. She doubted not,
but he would be present at the banquet, when she would
summon every attraction, both of mind and person, in order
to draw from him the reason of his unaccountably long ab-
sence, and to prevail on him, under some plausible pretext, to
escort her out of Prague in the evening, and pass the night in
the castle of his relations, where he would be secure from the
attack of the Swedes. She trusted that the execution of this
little plot would not prove difficult. She knew that the
festival was prolonged until midnight, and that her uncle, who
was no friend of late hours, would return home early. This
resolution, and the preparation for proceeding to the festival,

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 135

tended to restore her mind to some degree of tranquillity. She
dressed herself to the utmost advantage ; and as it happened
to be a Sunday, it was determined that the cavalcade should
set out somewhat earlier than would be otherwise necessary,
in order first to attend mass at the cathedral.

\Vallenstein had awakened early that morning from un-
pleasant slumbers, in which the events of the preceding day
were strangely mingled. The scene with Joanna — her manner,
which he had thought at times was tinged with a tender feeling
toward himself — the contradiction to this suggested by the
affair of the portrait, and her tears while gazing upon it : —
then the meeting with the stranger, and the notion that he
had, perhaps, saved the life of his rival : — lastly, the intelli-
gence communicated by Wulden, of Helen's desire to see him
— all crowded confusedly into his mind ; still, the resolution to
avoid her presence till one objectionable point was set at rest,
continued predominant, and fixed him in the determination to
be absent from the palace of the Governor. He dressed him-
self, therefore, in his usual manner ; and after despatching
some affairs at home, proceeded on a visit of business across
the bridge. A few hours after, when returning by the same
road, he saw at a little distance a train of several persons on
horseback, and the people on the bridge gazing intently
thereon. As the cavalcade advanced, he perceived, by the
liveries of the attendauts, before he could discern the features
of the parties, that it was the family of Baron von Zelstow.
He stood aside, to suffer the equestrians to pass ; and although
desirous of escaping notice, found himself irresistably impelled
to seek the glance of Helen. She saw him at once, and
checking her beautiful palfrey, saluted him by name, thus com-
pelling him to advance beside her.

He had now a full view of the elegance of her attire. The
high- laced collar, turned back from the edge of the boddice,
gaye to view her lovely neck and alabaster shoulders, and
closed in front upon the robe of dark satin, which sparkled

N 2

136 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

above her white underdress ; whilst her dark hair, disposed in
ringlets, played at liberty about her face and neck.

"Count Wallenstein !" said the lovely young woman, "do
we at length see you once more ? And even now, it is accident
that throws you in our way !"

Albert's face, at these words, was covered with crimson, and
he stammered out something about business and pressing en-
gagements.

"These excuses cannot be admitted," interposed Helen,
with a smile ; " surely, one hour might have been found to
prove to your friends that you had not quite forgotten
them."

"Who could ever forget you?" said Wallenstein, almost
involuntarily.

" I presume you* intend to be present at the festival,
Count?" inquired the Baroness — for Albert was now walking
beside the horses.

" I fear it will not be in my power," answered Albert.

"I am sorry to hear that," observed the old Baron, gravely:
" Count Martinitz will probably take offence at your absence.'5

" Oh !" exclaimed Helen, half smilingly, half authoritatively,
" he will come — he must" and she put her hand playfully on
his shoulder.

The touch thrilled like electricity through the whole frame
of our hero, who could have sunk on his knees before the
fascinating young beauty, despite his deeply-rooted misgivings.
Scarce conscious of what he did, he bowed assent to the
soliciting looks of his friends, who now again urged on their
steeds, and waved their hands in token of brief farewell. His
eye followed them as long as possible, and then turned slowly
away, in utter abstraction.

What should he think — what do ? Could he now pre-
serve his intention of stopping away from the festival, after
his implied promise to attend it ? And, then, the kindness as
well as the resistless fascination of Helen t He still seemed to

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 137

hear the music of her voice, as it uttered those flattering ex-
pressions, insensibility to which would have required a more
than stoical frigidity. What if, after all, he held the chief
place in her affections ? What if she might have it in her
power to explain away all enigmatical appearances ?

Just at this moment he was met by Wulden, attended by a
servant in rich livery, and dressed in a splendid suit of yellow
trunk-hose, with corresponding doublet : his blue mantle,
which hung over his right arm, was decorated with pale gold
embroidery, whilst his long and highly-polished sword was
held under his left. He had been seeking Albert, in order to
obtain his company, and now joyfully hailed him.

" What !" exclaimed Wallenstein, " are you, too, come to
inveigle me to a place which I have but slight inclination to
visit ? Well, I suppose it would be to little purpose to hold
out ; so pray come into my house, wait while I make my
toilette, and I will try to be as gay as the rest of you."

Albert dressed himself, with great care, in white doublet
and hose ; the ample sleeves of the former were slashed in
front, and richly embroidered with green and silver, as was
likewise his mantle and his Damascus sword, with a silver
basket-hilt, hung from a green sash by his side. His boots
were short, with silver tassels ; and his bright auburn locks,
which fell profusely over his shoulders, shaded well the con-
tour of his noble countenance.

" What a fool I must be," exclaimed Wulden, laughing, as
he eyed his friend's noble figure, " to take you with me !
You completely eclipse me in every respect. Why, you are a
very Adonis ! Js this elaborate display meant for the eyes of
the fair Helen of Troy ?"

As they were about crossing the Italian square, in order to
ascend the Hradschin, there stepped forth a very pretty,
neatly-dressed girl, of the middling class, from one of the
gardens in front of the houses. She remained standing at a
respectful distance, and blushed as she curtsied to both the
gentlemen. Wallenstein recognized in her Joanna, and it did

N3

138 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

not escape Leopold that his cheek was suffused with a deeper
crimson. Both saluted the lovely girl in the most friendly
manner. Wallenstein would fain have stopped a moment to
remind her of her promise for this evening ; but he did not
wish to cause her the slightest embarrassment, particularly
before the observing eye of his friend ; he therefore contented
himself with casting a significant look at her as they passed
on, unconscious whether or not she comprehended it.

" Who was that lovely maiden ?" inquired Leopold of his
friend.

" The daughter of the steward and inspector of my house
and gardens/' replied Albert briefly.

" You seem to understand each other extremely well."

" It is natural we should do so, since we were brought up
together as playmates."

" But why need yon blush about it ?"

" Blush ! You are dreaming," cried Wallenstein, and his
cheek coloured again.

" Well, well," said Leopold, laughing, as he looked into
his friend's face, " never mind, I can hold my tongue j the
proud beauty shall not learn any thing from me."

In this interchange of banter and deprecation the friends
proceeded to the palace, where, received by a train of richly-
attired servants, they were led through various chambers, and
at length the heavy folding doors of the saloon were thrown
open, and displayed the whole assembly already collected.

Count Martinitz, a venerable and majestic looking man,
who bore his seventy years (which had been to him a period
full of trouble) with unabated vigour, advanced a few steps
to meet them, and gave a kind and hearty welcome ; whilst
many of the youthful part of the company gathered about the
new comers.

Wallenstein's eye soon sought the object of his thoughts,
whom he discovered in the centre of a crowd of ladies, among
whom her beautiful form and elegant dress were readily dis-
tinguished. Helen also quickly perceived him, and a friendJy

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 139

salutation was returned to his respectful bow, shewing that
his presence was a source of gratification. As he was con-
sidering how he should approach her, and measuring with his
eye the wide space between them, the folding-doors again
opened, and the House-Marshal, with his silver staff, accom-
panied by numerous attendants, appeared in the anti-room,
to announce that the banquet was ready.

All were now in motion. The governor presented his arm
to the lady of highest rank, and they were followed by the
rest of the company, in due gradation. As they paced through
the long line of apartments and galleries, VVallenstein suc-
ceeded in approaching Helen, and in whispering a few words
to her. She said, in reply, " you have done well thus to
meet our wishes, by appearing here. Believe me, you will
not repent it."

She said this in a tone somewhat more pointed than usual.
Wallenstein looked at her, and perceived in her countenance
an expression of uncommon kindness, together with marks of
secret anxiety, which now that the glow arising from the
journey was diminished, rendered her features rather paler
than ordinary. This observation fell upon Albert's heart, and
excited his sympathy. What was it that weighed on Helen's
mind ? What had occurred to her during the week that he
had been absent from Troy ? Oh ! that he might remove this
load from her breast ! that he might give up his life, to bask
in the sun-shine of those eyes ! He determined that, as far
as circumstances might allow, he would abide in her company
during the remainder of the day j and her manner toward him
appeared so kind, nay, so tender, that he flattered himself she
would not pass the time disagreeably in his.

The throne- room had, on account of its large dimensions,
been selected for the banquet on the present occasion. The
imposing size of this apartment, and its elegant, bold-vaulted
roof (the pointed arches of which rose to a considerable
height), could not fail to strike the spectator : — from those
parts where the cluster ofgothic pillars met above, hung heavy

140 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

chandeliers with rich gilt branches. Upon both sides of the
long saloon, huge sideboards were placed, whereon stood in-
numerable bottles containing wines of the most costly and
varied sorts, which sparkled invitingly when poured iuto the
goblets of beautiful Bohemian glass. At the upper end of the
saloon, the cloth was laid upon a table of horse-shoe shape,
over which, at that part where the seat of the governor was,
the Bohemian Lion was blazoned in a red field. In the
centre of the table was a fountain, which, spouting forth a
clear stream of rose-xvater, most agreeably perfumed the
saloon. Over the entrance-doors, opposite this table, a
gallery was contrived, in which a band of musicians were
stationed, in order to entertain the guests during their meal
with music (which, as natives of Bohemia, a land so rich in
melody, they well understood), and also to give eclat to the
healths about to be given during the banquet.

The loud flourish sounded for the first time, as the guests,
the governor at their head, entered the saloon, led by the mar-
shal, with his silver staff j who had no easy task in arranging
them according to rank and dignity. At length, however, he
succeeded in his endeavours ; the crowd, which had swarmed
around the table, settled into order as soon as the principal
guests had taken possession of their seats, and the younger
part of the company suited themselves as best they might.

Silence being established, the door opened again ; and a
long train of richly clothed domestics advanced, two by two,
bearing the immense silver dishes which contained the viands.
At the head of all, marched the carver, in a state-dress com-
pletely covered with gold, the mantle, the buskins (opening
at the knees), and the doublet, being embroidered with gold-
lace, as were also the short tasselled boots.

With great adroitness did the servants pilot the important
dishes each to its proper destination, according to a sign from
the carver, who stood by, armed, like a general, with his baton
of command.

Count Martinitz played the host with equal dignity and

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 141

politeness. Healths were given ; the guests hospitably
pressed to replenish ; and the large goblets repeatedly filled
and emptied. The first health given was that of the Emperor
Ferdinand the third, in proposing which, Martinitz rose from
his seat, and lifting the cup on high, pronounced the name
with reverence. All the guests rose at the moment, and the
music chimed in, with a flourish of trumpets and drums.
"All true Bohemians!1' was the second toast given; and
Count Martinitz glanced his eyes satisfactorily down both
sides of the Jong table, his looks encountering only well-
known and trusty persons, whose fidelity toward their prince
and their faith rose above suspicion. "Heaven has granted
me," commenced he, after the applauses of the assembly had
somewhat abated, " for the first lime in this elevated situation,
which, through the favour of my sovereign I hold, to cele-
brate once more that festival which you have honoured me by
attending for so many years."

Loud exclamations interrupted the venerable speaker, whose
health, together with the memory of his wonderful preserva-
tion, was enthusiastically drunk. Visibly affected, the Count
could scarcely, for awhile, gather voice to proceed, which at
length, however, he did as follows : " How many seasons
have revolved since that preservation ! And what numerous
changes have taken place !"

" Yes, indeed," returned the elder Wulden, who was seated
near Martinilz ; " and how few besides ourselves are now
alive, who witnessed that scene !"

"I look around me," said the Count, "and behold mostly
the children of those who, with me, stood the first brunt of
that storm. My companion in misfortune, Slavata, is long
since dead ; and of those who were then my colleagues as
imperial functionaries, scarcely two are now living. Your
father, Sternberg," he added, turning toward one of the young
men, " was at that time what I am now, Governor-General.
We often disputed with each other ; it being, in his opinion,
better to accommodate all parties by gentleness and modera-

142 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

lion. I proved to him, however, that such a system would
be as unavailing as the endeavours of boys to stem the force
of a torrent by the barrier of a few small stones."

" I know," said old Wulden, smiling, " you were always
for force and violence ; and so you were made to fly out of
the window — while Sternberg escaped."

" Well, and what harm has it done ine ?" returned the
stout old warrior : "I am proud of it ; and if the Kolowrates
may be proud of their Beness, who, in the murderous attack
at Pisa, saved the life of the Emperor our sovereign King
Charles, so shall my descendants, at a future period, look back
with satisfaction upon my memory. I also have staked my
life for my rightful sovereign and the faith of my fathers."

" Heaven grant us, at last, repose, after so many tempes-
tuous years !" said the old Baron von Reizan.

" It is reported, and I have letters from Vienna to the same
effect," said the Governor, " that peace is now very near.''

" Nevertheless, there are numerous and equivocal move-
ments," observed old Wulden, " in the Eger district. The
Swedes are drawing all their troops together ; and Wrangel
has even, it is said, detached a couple of regiments from the
Upper Palatinate thither."

" I have heard, the same thing," said Reizan ; " but what
does one not hear ?"

"Report is very busy, no doubt," said the Governor.
" Fear and hope often change and magnify an unimportant
circumstance beyond its due proportion. The Swedes are
unquestionably concentrating themselves ; they have levied
contributions, and Wrangel is moving in the Upper Palati-
nate. The Palatine, and presumptive heii to the throne of
the learned Swedish queen, is also advancing, with a numerous
body of troops, through Saxony, and, as it is said, intends
taking up his quarters near Leipsic. But it is considered, by
intelligent people, (arid their opinion I cannot help joining,)
that these movements mean nothing further than a mere con-
centration of the Swedish forces."

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 143

" Granted : but what can they intend by that /" inquired
another guest.

" I really do not know," said Martinitz, shrugging his
shoulders ; " certainly nothing good for Germany and the Im-
perial party. Still, we have every ground to hope that the
conclusion of peace will put an end to fresh projects of offence,
if any such are forming; and, therefore, gentlemen, let us not,
by untimely anxiety, interrupt our present happiness, but
drink with me — Success to the imperial arms, and destruc-
tion to the Swedes and all their friends !"

Helen had been listening, during this speech, with the
greatest attention, which she strove to conceal. At the last
words of the governor, however, (not very pacificatory, it
must be allowed,) to which, as before, the whole company did
honour with loud huzzas, she put down, instead of raising
the glass to her lips — and that so hastily as to attract the at-
tention of Wallenstein, who viewed her demeanour with agi-
tation, and could hardly repress a host of gloomy thoughts.
" You do not honour the toast, Helen !" he remarked, as he
replaced his empty glass.

" I cannot endure,'' replied she, recovering her self-pos-
session, " to see intolerance grow so hot as to mingle even in
the social circle, and embitter the hours of hilarity."

" And so you thiuk it intolerant," said he, mournfully, " for
a true Bohemian to hate the Swedes — those terrible enemies,
who have now, for eighteen years, been devastating Germany
and the countries bordering it ?"

" For my part/' answered the fair objecter, " the old Count
may do with the Swedes what he pleases. But does he not
also mean, by the conclusion of his speech, to denounce the
poor remains of the feeble Utraquisls and Protestants, who
are continually held in suspicion of an understanding with
their fellow-believers, and are grudged even the very air they
breathe >"

" I scarcely believe," replied Albert, " that Count Martinitz
now entertains such hostile feelings : but, even were it so,

144 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

can you well blame a man who has, from his youth up-
ward, struggled and fought against this party, and suffered
so much from it ?"

The pursuance of their conversation was stopped by the
banquet being at an end, The noisy music ceased ; the wine
had spread cheerfulness among the guests ; and, in the hap-
piest humour, the younger portion of them left the banqueting
for the ball room.

CHAPTER X.

MEANWHILE, fresh parties had arrived, who had not joined
in the festivities of the dinner, but, after regaling themselves
with potations of wine, were anxiously awaiting the com-
mencement of the dance. Among these was our old acquaint-
ance Baron Predetten, who put on a waggish smile as he per-
ceived Albert leading Helen into the saloon. He greeted
Wallenstein, however, with great respect, and began to talk
with him about the adventure of the preceding night behind
the Capuchin-Church. Helen's attention was fixed by the
mention of this occurrence. Albert wished to break off the
discourse ; but Leopold, who was with them, requested fur-
ther explanation of Predetten, who then related that Wallen-
stein had, the evening before, drawn his sword, like a brave
knight, in defence of one who was hard pressed.

" Indeed !'* cried Leopold : then, turning to Wallenstein,
"you told me nothing of this."

"It was not worth speaking about," replied our hero.

" Nay, but it was,*' continued Predetten : " the combat was
pretty warm, and the person very probably had been lost,
but for your interposition."

" You have saved a human being's life !" exclaimed Helen ;
" that was noble, generous !"

" It was both," said Predetten ; " whether it was wise or
not, will appear hereafter."

OH, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 145

c' What mean you by that observation, Baron ?" asked
Albert : " and how comes it you are so well informed of all
which happened to me last night?"

" I learnt it from the most efficient sources," replied the
other : " from the soldiers out of whose hands you extricated
the unknown. They recognized you."

" True," said Wallenstein; " one of them called out my
name."

" They would not, for the whole world, have turned their
swords against the nephew of their former general, even had
he not proved himself so brave and resolute as, according to
their mutual evidence, you did."

" Well, then, who was the Unknown ?" asked Leopold.

" Ay, that is the point," said Predetten; " respecting which
I should be almost inclined to begin a war with Count Wal-
lenstein. My people (for these men belong to my regiment)
had traced the fellow's footsteps some days before. He is
most certainly a Swedish spy, or something like one ; for he
was always seen sneaking about the fortifications, writing or
drawing upon his tablets."

"Then why was he not long since seized ?" asked Wulden.

" There was not sufficient proof against him," answered
the Baron. " He wears the imperial uniform, and is said to
be a discharged officer, calling himself Odowalsky."

At these words, Helen, who had hitherto listened with
marked attention, suddenly changed colour, and her agitation
was so observable, that Predetten inquired, with a tone some-
what sarcastic, if she were unwell ? Not adverting to the
real cause of her confusion, she ascribed it to a giddiness
resulting, perhaps, from the heat of the room, at the same
time struggling hardly and visibly to regain her self-pos-
session.

Wallenstein's eye rested gloomily upon his fair companion,
and the conviction of the very lively interest she took in this
Odowalsky, fell with icy coldness on the warm spring of his
reviving hopes.

146 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

" He gave me another name," remarked he, eyeing Helen
attentively.

"Oh! I can readily believe that," cried Predetten ; "the
rascal gives himself sundry appellations, representing himself
at one time as a Swede, and at another as a Saxon ; he pre-
tends, with our generals, to be a zealous Catholic, while, with
the Swedes, he rails at confession and the mass ! In a word,
he acts any character that may suit his immediate purpose."

" And what do you imagine to be his real object ?" in-
quired Leopold.

"How should I know >" exclaimed the Baron, "some vil-
lany, no doubt."

" Is not that going rather too far, sir ?" cried Helen, al-
most trembling with suppressed emotion ; " Is it quite fair,
when an absent man's proceedings and motives are confess-
edly unknown, at once to pronounce them villainous?'1

"Madam !' said the officer, bowing, "pardon me when I
say, you now speak on subjects scarcely to be submitted to a
lady's judgment. In order, particularly during such boister-
ous times as these, to charge a person with the infamy of es-
pionage, it is not necessary to be his father-confessor."

Helen maintained for a moment an indignant silence, and
then replied : " As appearances go, Baron Predetten, you
may be right : I have no knowledge of the individual alluded
to ; but I know that much depends upon the point of view
from which we contemplate persons, or their actions. Much
will be commended in the Swedish camp that is execrated
here, and vice versa."

"But why, if I may be so bold as to ask," returned the
Baron, evading Helen's remark, " are you the advocate of a
man, suspicious at least, and whom you do not know 9"

" Because," answered Helen, proudly, "it is unjust to sit
in judgment on the absent j and because Ifeel that a per-
son's real character is often either misconceived or misin-
terpreted."

" Oh ! your interposition proceeds, then, purely from Chris-

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET.

tian charity ! Well, this Odowalsky is a truly fortunate
youth ; and you are really a most generous couple," and he
bowed laughingly to Wallenstein and Helen: "one takes
his part with sword, and the other with tongue."

Albert had been buried in abstraction : he now, how-
ever, roused himself, and cried, " Baron von Predetten, have
the kindness to be sparing of these jests : — they are unbe-
coming and offensive ; I see nothing in this affair to excite
laughter."

" But after all this random talk." interrupted Leopold, " I
scarcely yet know what the affair really was. Come, Pre-
detten, you shall give me the particulars j" and seizing the
Baron's arm, he led him to the saloon, glad to put an end
to conversation which appeared taking a very unpleasant
turn.

Wallenstein and Helen were now left standing together
alone $ the former bent his eyes gloomily on the ground, for
Helen's true principles had now shewn themselves, nor could
he longer for a moment doubt that her secret friend and the
person he had rescued were one and the same.

"Accept my thanks, dear Wallenstein," cried the lady;
and, at that moment, her eye met the changed expression of
his, and sank before it.

" For what ?" asked Albert, abruptly.

"I thank you," replied she, with a constrained tone, "in
the name of every friend of humanity, for your embracing the
cause of an overborne stranger.1'

" Your interest, Helen, persuades me that he is no stranger
to you .'"

"My interest springs from the recital of the story; surely
that may suffice, without seeking far and wide for other
causes :" and the fair girl added, with perhaps too full an im-
pression of her power, " Come, Wallenstein ! What, moody
in a lady's society ! and after so long an absence, too !" and,
as she spoke, she extended to him her ivory ringers.

But the spell, however potent it might have been, was
o2

148 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

broken. Albert was profoundly mortified : his sensitive na-
ture had undergone a heavy shock ; — and, with the tear of
chagrin and sorrow glistening in his eye, he bowed, and strode
hastily away.

Helen stood in nmte astonishment, not unmingled with
alarm. She watched the graceful figure of her first admirer as
he hurried through the crowd to the other end of the saloon ;
when, on a sudden, the sound of horns and other music struck
up loudly, and the ball commenced. She started from her
abstraction, and, at the same moment, Leopold, accosting her
with all the chivalrous reverence of the period, requested the
honour of her hand in the dance. Her thoughts were con-
fused— she would fain have had a few moments of quiet, in
order to recover herself j but recollected that she dared not
refuse Wulden, if she wished subsequently to dance with
Wallenstein, who, she did not doubt, would return and ask
her, and who now assumed, in her regard, altogether a dif-
ferent character from that he formerly held — a change which
at once stimulated her interest and respect : — giving Leopold,
therefore, her hand, she followed him, almost unconsciously,
to the immediate scene of festivity.

" Where are your thoughts, lady ?" asked her partner, with
a smile, after having witnessed several marks of absence and
confusion : " Do you miss any one ?"

" O, no !" exclaimed she, quickly and out of humour ; " it
is so sultry here; and, in fact, to dance at all on a summer's
afternoon is a mad idea ! What I miss is coolness and air."

" Do you wish me to understand that you would prefer
dancing no longer V

*' If you will permit me the choice, I certainly should."

" Then let me offer you my arm, that you may breathe the
fresh air of the adjacent room.''

" Thank you, sir !" said Helen, glad to have got away so
easily, particularly as Wallenstein was no longer in the saloon.

They stepped into the adjoining apartment, which was
lofty and supported by pillars, and the high narrow windows of

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 14S

which gave little admittance to the warm air. Here, in the
silence and comparative gloom, Albert had taken refuge, and
had thrown himself along a couch. His arm resting upon a
projection of the wall, and his head leaning upon his hand,
he did not observe the passers-by, nor did he perceive even
when Helen and Leopold came up. The former, however,
saw him directly, and her eye beamed with delight.

" Look, there is our friend, Count Wallenstein," said she
to Wulden ; " but what can be the matter with him ? He is
not ill, I hope !''

" I hope not," said her companion, stepping toward Albert,
and laying his hand upon his shoulder. The latter imme-
diately started up, and gazed at both without speaking. Helen
inquired if he was unwell, seating herself as she did so upon
the couch, and playfully inviting the young men to take their
places beside her. She foresaw, in fact, no other such favour-
able opportunity for putting in execution her plan of securing
Albert's company back to Troy.

The discourse soon became lively, at least between Helen
and Leopold. Wallenstein alone relapsed every now and
then into gloom and abstraction. The lady was cautious not
to touch upon the preceding day's adventure, for the ferment
it had created within Albert's breast was but too evident.
Gradually she introduced the subject of her wishes : she ex-
pressed her belief that the ball and fireworks would last until
midnight — that her uncle would not stay so long, but would
ride back again to Troy earlier, with a part of the escort ; and
that (she must confess it to her shame) she could not keep
off a certain emotion of fear at returning to the castle with
the small residue of the domestics, who consisted chiefly of
old and superannuated servants, and who, besides, would be
rendered still more powerless by the efiects of the wine they
had taken. " The roads are so unsafe, even round Prague,"
she concluded at length, " and I know also that my aunt is
very apprehensive."

The hint, however conspicuous, M'as not taken in the
o3

150 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

quarter intended for its reception. Wallenstein remained
silent ; but Leopold quickly replied, " May I offer you and
your aunt my escort to Troy ? Surely you will not scorn to
accept me as your knight upon this little journey ?"

This proposition, although neither anticipated nor sought,
could not xvell be rejected, and indeed interfered not with the
lady's scheme. Upon receiving it, she turned, with inimitable
address, to Count Albert, and said, in playful tone, " You
silent, Wallenstein ! Your friend is so kind as to bear us
company ; will not you do the same ?"

Our hero's irritated feelings saw nothing in this plain
appeal but the vanity of the proud beauty, who, while her
heart glowed in secret for another, wished to yoke to her
triumphant car as many slaves as possible. At the same
time he first recollected his appointment with Joanna, and
how cruelly he should deceive her, if he allowed himself to be
moved by Helen's flatteries. He replied, therefore, that he
had a pressing affair to attend to this evening, which, since
his friend had volunteered his attendance on the ladies, he
should not feel warranted in neglecting.

" A pressing affair?" repeated Helen; "and to-day — on
such a day ! Oh, Count Wallenstein ?" cried she, somewhat
reproachfully, " this is scarcely credible."

" Could not your pressing affair be adjusted by means of a
messenger ?" asked Wulden.

*' I have promised to go myself," said Wallenstein, gravely,
" and I hold my promises sacred."

" This really looks suspicious," cried Leopold, laughing :
" what can it mean ?"

" Give yourself no trouble about it;" interrupted Wallen-
stein ; " the affair is a very simple one, and cannot, in the
eyes of the world, be of any importance." He thought, at
that moment, on Joanna. Her sweet features, her gentle de-
meanour, floated before his mind, and he felt composed by
the remembrance, — until all at once the mysterious portrait
presented itself, and he relapsed into his former dejection.

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 151

" Let us return to the saloon," exclaimed Helen, springing
up, and adding, with ludicrous inconsistency, " it is so cold
here ?" Leopold offered his arm, whilst Wallenstein me-
chanically followed.

" What's the matter with your friend ?" inquired Helen, as
they re-entered the saloon.

" I really cannot comprehend him," replied Leopold ; " he
is completely metamorphosed within the last hour."

As the gay dancers flew past, Leopold pointed to them with
significant looks ; and Helen, comprehending his meaning,
gave him her hand, casting, at the same time, a proud glance
toward Albert.

Wallenstein allowed all this to pass without notice. Bitter
pain at his deception and blindness filled his soul. Helen's
falsehood toward him, — her unprincipled trifling with his
heart, whilst her own was devoted to another, roused his feel-
ings into the most violent commotion. Nor even in his
thoughts of Joanna did he, as heretofore, find repose. He
had an indefinite dread of evil to come, as well as past ; and
feared that the evening would bring some terrible disclosure.
Buried in these gloomy meditations, he stood in the middle
of the saloon, hardly conscious that a crowd of revellers were
around him, and that the ball was now at its height. Dance
followed dance — all were, or appeared to be, happy, and the
individual whose bosom was so torn seemed lost amid the
joyous throng.

Gradually, however, evening advanced, and tapers were
lighted in the various branches on the walls. Thus ap-
proached night — that night which was to bring with it so
much terror and sorrow ; — and yet Helen had found no means
of persuading her friend to retire from the devoted city ! Her
situation was the more afflicting, since she dared not explain
to Wallenstein her real motives for deiiring his company j and
these circumstances had combined to unfold to her another
secret, namely, that the indifference of Wallenstein was by no

152 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

means matter of indifference to her — so waywardly are the
elements of our strange nature mixed and mingled together !

Her anxiety increased with every moment ; and the appear-
ance of the lights raised it into mortal terror. She resolved at
length, after some consideration, that, let Wallenstein think
of her as he might, she would address him once more, and
solicit his escort, A favourable accident having led him near
when the dance she had taken part in had ceased, she called
him to her, invited him to a seat by her side, and again tried
all her eloquence to lure from him the wished-for promise.
The importance which she seemed to attach to his consent —
the anxious eagerness displayed in her features, which Wal-
lenstein could scarcely attribute to fear at the dangers of the
road — the soft entreating tone of her voice — her eye, which
shone with a restrained tear, altogether began, not indeed to
affect Albert's heart, but to interest his curiosity and sympathy.
It is true, he did not conceal his surprise at this seeming
timidity, but was wavering in his resolution when the old
Baron came up, and gallantly addressing Helen, announced
his intention of accommodating his hour to theirs, and await-
ing the conclusion of the entertainments. No excuse now
remained for pressing Wallenstein's escort, and Helen was
forced to lock within her own breast her terror and solicitude.
Immediately afterward, the whole of the company got in
motion — the gathering darkness now allowing the display of
the fireworks ; and amidst the confusion which resulted,
Wallenstein withdrew from his party, and left the assembly
altogether.

On leaving the saloon, Helen was informed of this fact by
Wulden, who said that their friend's altered demeanour had filled
him with surprise, adding some gallant expressions to the lady,
of which she took no heed ; her mind was now, indeed, quite
absorbed by the idea of what was at hand. In the blaze and
crackling of the rireworks, she heard and saw nothing but the
report of the Swedish cannon, and often — very often — did

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 153

these feelings threaten almost to overwhelm her ! Nothing,
in fact, but her love for Odowalsky, and the heroic pride which
she had so frequently admired, and felt herself called on to dis-
play, could preserve the terrible secret upon which, as she sup-
posed, her lover's and her country's happiness depended.

Meanwhile, glad to escape into the open air, Albert, attended
by two servants with torches, passed across the palace-square,
hastily descended the hill, and entered the city, now quite dark
and silent. The noise from the gardens sounded fainter and
fainter, as he descended into the deserted streets ; and in like
manner did the partial excitement which the scene had afforded
fade away, and leave him utterly miserable. It seemed to him
as if every one had found a congenial spirit, except himself,
and that there was no one whose bosom beat responsive to the
feelings of his own ! This forlorn sensation is, perhaps, the
most wretched that can be endured.

Amidst such thoughts he arrived at his mansion. The
outer gate was already locked ; the servant knocked, and it
was opened. Wallenstein advanced with hasty steps toward
the garden ; this also was locked. He reflected that it was
rather late, and that Joanna had perhaps given up all hopes of
seeing him. With the greater haste did he proceed to her
father's apartments. He opened the first — all was dark and
silent ; he stepped into the second — and here he fouud Ber-
tram, alone, seated in his arm-chair, reading by the light of a
lamp He sprang up quickly, as the door opened, and seeing
his lord before him, drew the velvet cap from off his grey hairs.

" Where is your daughter?" was the question with which
our hero replied to the old man's greetings.

" Not at home, my Lord," answered he, bowing : " she
has" —

"Not at home !" exclaimed Wallenstein, in a tone of sur-
prise : " She requested me to come — she promised" —

" I know all," replied the old man, bowing still lower:
" but an indispensable duty" —

" A duty ! and toward whom ? Where is she ?

154 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

"At St. Margaret's, with her mother's sister, who has been,
on the sudden, taken dangerously ill, my Lord, arid has sent
for her."

" Who is this mother's sister V

" The widow of the governor of the monastery of St Mar-
garet,— a good woman, who, after the decease of my wife,
discharged the duties of a parent toward my child."

" And she was suddenly taken ill to-day ?" said Wallenstein,
in a doubting tone : " this is singular !"

" The news came about noon ; Joanna was dreadfully ter-
rified, first on account of her aunt, and then from fear of your
Lordship's displeasure. Indeed, had I not presumed that you
were at the banquet, I should have sought you, to prevent
your coming.''

"And does not Joanna return to-night !" inquired Wallen-
stein, somewhat softened.

" 1 expect her every moment, and fear, from her stay, that
matters go badly at St. Margaret's."

" She will not come home alone, surely, in the middle of
the night ?"

"I believe her cousin will accompany her home."

"Her cousin! who is he?' asked Wallenstein, jumping at
a conclusion.

" The son of my sister-in-law."

'• Indeed ! a young man, probably >"

" Yes, my Lord."

"I shall wait a little/' said the Count, at last: "unlock
the garden-gates for me. — Perhaps Joanna may still come;
and the night is most beautiful."

Bertram obeyed, conjecturing within himself all manner of
things about his Lord ; while Wallenstein stepped into the
garden, which was dark and balmy, and, sending back the old
man, gave himself up, surrounded by silence, solitude, and
night, to his thoughts and recollections.

In the Castle and its royal gardens all the lights were gra-
dually vanishing ; the guests had retired j and quiet darkness

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 155

sank refreshingly, after the noise of the day, on the heads of
the wearied partakers in the festival.

CHAPTER XI.

IN this silent hour, whilst the inhabitants of Prague gave them-
selves up to careless slumber, a storm was preparing, which
was soon to burst. Under the cover of night, the Swedish
troops were approaching from Rakonitz, and were now at a
small distance only from the town. They had marched the
whole day with the greatest caution j preventing every possible
communication whereby the Bohemian capital might have
been apprised of their advance.

Toward night the words were given, "God be with us!"
and each soldier received orders to stick a green sprig of birch-
wood in his cap, in order to be recognized in the darkness.
The troops then broke up, and the march was to calculated as
to make them reach Prague in the depth of night.

Odowalsky had the vanguard under his orders; Colonel
Coppy followed with one thousand horse, and Konigsmark
brought up the rear with the main body, consisting of cavalry
and infantry, which latter he had mounted in the baggage
waggons, and upon the horses of the baggage and artillery.
Odowalsky well knew that it was mistrust which had induced
Konigsmark so to arrange ; and this feeling was productive of
any thing but complacency ; but he was foiced to submit, and
therefore, rode slowly along toward the capital of his native
country, which he was on the point of delivering over to
strangers, and of spreading bloodshed, plunder, and misery
amidst his fellow- citizens. At times there arose within his
breast a strong feeling of horror at this idea ; and the unfa-
vourable opinion which even the Swedes seemed to entertain
of him (whilst they reaped all the advantages of his treachery)
iucreased that heavy consciousness. Manning himself, however,
for the enterprise, he shook off the unwelcome feeling as a pre-

156 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

judice derived from inexperienced youth ; and, thinking on all
that he had endured, tried to overcome his better judgment.
Amidst the visions of a brilliant destiny which the future
seemed to open to him, and the enjoyments of long- wished
for wealth, arose the lovely figure of Helen, whom her rela-
tions could not refuse him, when — rendered illustrious by suc-
cess, he appeared as a victorious general before them, and de-
manded the hand of their niece. Thus did he push his regards,
across massacre, treachery, and terror, toward the object of his
desire, striving to silence the voice of conscience, which, how-
ever, became more and more audible the nearer he approached
the walls of Prague, whose towers he could now recognize by
the pale star-light.

They had reached the Abbey of St. Margaret, when sud-
denly the bells of the tower sounded, and were at the same
moment echoed by an answering peal from those in the city.
The Swedish troops halted in utter astonishment : and the ad-
jutant-general, springing forward, demanded, almost breath-
less, of Odowalsky, what was the meaning of this ringing ? —
whilst Konigsmark, continually suspicious of the man who had
broken faith with his own prince, imagined that he discovered
herein some fresh instance of treachery, preconcerted with the
Bohemian authorities.

" What does that ringing mean r" said Odowalsky, ironi-
cally, while the shades of night concealed from young Konigs-
mark the smile of mockery which played on his features ;
" truly, nought but the chorus of the monks ! They are ring-
ing for service in the various monasteries. The pious souls
announce to the world their attention to pray for themselves
and others, whilst we, meantime, surprise the city. It is the
most innocent ringing that can be imagined ; pray, say as
much to the Count, your uncle."

The adjutant was silent, but still hesitated. In the mean-
time Colonel Coppy rode up, to whom the halting and dis-
course in the vanguard had appeared singular. He inquired
what was the matter, and Odowalsky told him all, not, how-

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 157

ever, without adding several ironical remarks. Coppy had
formerly passed some time in Catholic countries ; he therefore
knew the custom, and confirmed Odowalsky's statement.

Young Konigsmark, with provoking pertinacity, shook his
head at this explanation, and rode back to his uncle, whilst the
troops were once more put in motion; but he soon returned,
and stationed himself beside Colonel Coppy, with whom he
carried on an earnest conversation in an under tone. Odo«
walsky observed this, and was at no loss to interpret its mean-
ing : Coppy was doubtless receiving orders to be on his guard,
and not to lose sight of the suspicious guide. Several times
did the heart of the latter feel incensed against the Swedes,
who, although necessary to the attainment of his object, he in
reality detested. Several times did the thought rise within
him of meriting their suspicions ; — of springing forward, and
raising the alarm at the city gates. This thought, however
much it proceeded from mixed motives, was at least patriotic,
and seemed to be the last effort of his better angel, but pride
overcame, and he remained true to his purpose. Conse-
quently, the troops arrived unobserved, under cover of the
darkness, close to the walls of the fortification. This, accor-
ding to the agreed plan, was the point of separation. Konigs-
mark intended to halt with his corps ; whilst Odowalskv and
Coppy — with pioneers bearing the instruments necessary to
break open the gates, — marching across to the left toward the
Hradschin, were to seek out that unguarded point of the forti-
cation already provided with a bribed picquet, — to press in
and open the Strahower-Gate to the Swedes waiting outside.

Every thing was carried on in the greatest order and deepest
silence. At a certain distance, outside the gate, Konigsmark
drew up with the cavalry. Odowalsky, however, and Coppy
dismounted their party, and approached the Hradschin on
foot. Here every thing was found as Odowalsky had pre-
pared it ; the words — " God be with us," were given : the
sentry made round to the right toward the city-gate j the

158 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

Swedes proceeded without interruption through the unguarded
opening in the wall, and arrived at the Hradschin Square, from
whence they speedily proceeded to the Strahower-Gate. But
here Odowalsky had not been able to succeed : it was occupied
by trusty soldiers. As the Swedes approached, the sentry
challenged in vain, and found they were enemies j they gave
fire, but fell immediately after — the sacrifice to their fidelity —
beneath the blows of Odowalsky and his party. Previously,
however, two or three men had been dispatched by the officer
on guard, to the citadel ; for the purpose of giving the alarm
and informing the commandant in all possible haste of the
attack of the enemy. He then, with the small number of
troops, protracted an heroic resistance as long as he could,
convinced that every moment gained was so much lost to the
enemy ; nor was it till after himself and his small troop had
fallen, that the Swedes (whom this delay had enraged) suc-
ceeded in forcing open the gate, which at length gave way to
the strokes of the pioneers, and falling, displayed an uninter-
rupted prospect to the Swedish cavalry, who were waiting
without, and who immediately sprang forward, and galloped
straight toward the Hradschin-Square, where they drew up in
order.

With feelings of great triumph, Konigsmark saw himself so
faradvanced, and henow no longer doubtedbut that he should, in
a short time, be master of all Prague. He acknowledged
that Odowalsky had guided him faithfully; and as proof of
of his confidence, ordered him to hasten with a select body
through the city to the bridge, in order to ensure a passage
into the Old-Town.

But the engagement at the Strahower-Gate,' and the firing of
several shots, had already alarmed a part of the neighbouring
inhabitants. Confused and terrified, the people sprang from
their beds : they beheld hostile troops amid the streets of the
Hradschin, and fell as soon as they appeared, — for, even before
they could plan any scheme of resistance, they were pierced

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 159

by Swedish bullets — the enemy's troops having received
orders to fire at every one they might see in the streets or at
the windows.

The alarm soon spread to the royal palace. Sentinels cried
out, shots were fired, and the inhabitants awoke in terror out
of the confusion of their first sleep, after a day passed in in-
toxicating pleasure. Count Martinitz was one of the first
who, shaking off the trammels of slumber, seized his arms
before he well knew the cause of the tumult. At this moment
his servant rushed into his bed-room, exclaiming : " Save
yourself, my Lord ! The Swedes are in the palace !" The
Count was roused at this ; for he imagined that fear or intoxi-
catiou had made the man exaggerate an accidental tumult into
the presence of the enemy, who, according to his own opinion
were many miles distant. He was, therefore, still angrily dis-
puting with the servant, who, maintaining his assertion, was
endeavouring to persuade the Count to flight, when one of his
daughters, pale as death, rushing into the room, repeated the
news, and immediately afterward an officer of the guard en-
tered with the information — " that the Swedes, in some incon-
ceivable way, had surprised the city, and their cavalry, even
now, were stationed in the Hradschin- Square."

" Well, let us drive them out!" exclaimed the old man,
seizing his sword ; and ordering his servants to reach down
his pistols quickly, he desired the officer to occupy all the en-
trances in the best possible manner.

" That is already attended to, your Excellency," replied the
officer ; '*' but I fear it will not prove of much use ; our num-
ber is but small, and the enemy is strong."

'• Send down into the town, then, for a reinforcement!"
At this moment a terrible noise was heard close at hand ;
doors were burst open, shots fired, and cries of terror and des-
pair resounded through the apartments. "They are here!"
exclaimed the Count's secretary, who with some others of the
household rushed in from a back door ; " save yourself, my
Lord !"

160 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

"Not I, in truth!" exclaimed Martiniizj "the heretics
shall never say that the Upper- Burgraf of Bohemia fled before
them. The emperor has entrusted to me the station and the
palace. 1 dare not stir from my post. Stand by me, friends !''
exclaimed he, placing himself so advantageously, as he spoke,
that the first Swedes who pressed forward through the forcibly-
opened door met with a warm reception from himself and his
armed companions. But the struggle did not last long ;
through every passage the Swedes poured in, finding here and
there amongst the menials of the palace but too faithful
guides ! Resistance, therefore, was mere idleness, particularly
as a Swede, enraged at the Count's furious attack, aimed a
heavy stroke at his head, which stretched the old man sense-
less on the ground.

Upon this, all surrendered, stipulating only for themselves
and for the safety of the persons of their lord and his family,
all which was granted by the Swedish leader. The Count
was placed upon his couch : his lamenting daughter, together
with several attendants, provided him with every necessary
aid, and, drowned in their own distresses, they troubled
themselves less about the wild horde, who now, at
the command of their leader, (leaving the chamber of
the wounded Count, whom they declared to be their pri-
soner of war,) ransacked the rest of the apartments in the
palace, slew all who opposed them, and seized whatever they
took a fancy to.

From the palace and the Hradschin-Square the noise and
terror now spread farther into the city. As yet, however, the
greatness of the danger and its real nature was not known,
until the voice of the messenger who had hastened from the
Strahower-Gate into the town, with the cry of terror — "The
Swedes are in the city !' — awoke likewise the inhabitants of
the other districts. The womeu screamed, and the men
sprang to their weapons, hurrying disorderly into the streets.
Small bodies soon collected here and there, but were deficient
in a knowledge of the true state of things, as well as in pre-

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 161

sence of mind. The facts, however, became gradually known,
in every direction : the drums were beat, and a corps of re-
gular troops (summoned by the messenger formerly alluded to)
marched up the steep leading to the Hradschin. At last the
tumult penetrated into that solitary part of the town wherein
was situated the Wallenstein-Palace.

Albert had not left it. Joanna not having yet arrived, he
wandered up and down the moonlit walks of the garden, and
having just reached the small lake, whereon he had yesterday
enjoyed such a happy tour, was thinking of their water excur-
sion,— of the silent delight which beamed from Joanna's eyes,
and the mind displayed in all her expressions. How amiable
seemed her confidence, evinced even against her father's will,
toward him !

At that moment he heard shots at a distance ; but sup-
posing them to be indicative of some innocent amusement or
continuation of the pleasures of the day, he took no further
notice. The reports, however, were renewed, stronger and
more frequent. At the same time it appeared to him as if he
heard, in the adjacent streets, cries and tumult. He hurried,
therefore, quickly through the garden into the house, where he
was met by Bertram, full of terror.

" What noise is that •'' cried Wallenstein.

" Alas, my Lord, I know not j I fear it is some tumult" —

" Open the gate — I will see."

" Oh; for heaven's sake, my Lord, do not ! You might
perchance, encounter the rioters. No doubt it is some drunken
people coming from the festival."

" No, no," returned Wallenstein, " this is no drunken fray.
Do you not hear the tread of cavalry descending from the
Hradschin ?"

" It is the patrol — they have, doubtless, been summoned !''

" It is the heavy tread of horses. Good heavens ! " conti-
nued he, after a moment's thought, "can it be the Swedes?
Hark! they are sounding the alarm bells !"

p3

162 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

Just then, indeed, the alarm was really heard from the bells
of St. Thomas, which were answered by the other towers.

" It is the Swedes !" pursued Wallenstein ; " my fears are
true. Open the gate, Bertram, I must get out. Do you hear
the drums ? Our troops are in motion — open the gate !" —
but the poor, attached old man hesitated.

Meantime the household had collected together in the court
in a state of terror. With various exclamations they sur-
rounded their young lord ; whilst without, the noise became
louder, and the ringing of the bells more violent. Bertram saw
and understood his master's peremptory look and motion ; the
gate was unbarred, and the nephew of the great Friedland,
sword in hand, rushed forth.

"Oh, my daughtei !" cried Bertram, in a voice of anguish,
" in this night of terror where can she be !"

"Where we all are — in the hands of God!" exclaimed
Wallenstein, turning round once more ; " If I can be his in-
strument in saving her, be assured it will render me happy !"
With these words he flew away, whilst his people remained
standing in a kind of stupor at the gate.

As Wallenstein approached one of the squares, he plainly
heard the sound of swoids clashing, and the report of muskets
It was a sign that the enemy was at the same time in different
parts of the city, whilst here, in the square, they were already
engaged hand to hand. From out several houses was heaid
the cry of lamentation, where, perhaps, some Swedes had pe-
netrated, or one of the inhabitants had been killed. Straggling
dark forms fled along close to the walls, in order to escape
unobserved from the enemy — loud alarms re-echoed from every
side — and the darkness of the night increased the amount of
uncertainty and terror.

By the light of torches, Wallenstein recognised a body of
men with the Swedish uniform, and was now convinced there
must have been some monstrous act of treachery perpetrated
to deliver Prague into the hands of the enemy. He quickly

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 163

guessed at the intention of the Swedes to proceed to the bridge,
and secure the passage to the Old-Town.

It was Odowalsky, with his corps, to whom a small body
of Imperialists was just now opposed. The idea of warning
the Old-Town flashed through Albert's mind. Like an arrow,
he darted along the houses toward the Bridge-street ; at the
top of which, his progress was intercepted by a wounded per-
son, who was groaning, and slowly dragging himself along.
Compassion induced our hero to assist this unfortunate, being ;
whilst, on the other hand, his object demanded the greatest
haste.

The reflection of a passing light in the hands of a fugitive
fell upon Wallenstein's figure , and the wounded man calling
out his name, Albert recognised poor Predetten, who, at that
moment, fell down, expiring.

" Heavens ! is it you ?" exclaimed Wallensteiu, as he bent
over his unfortunate friend. Predetten reached out his hand
to him : " It is all over with me," he feebly enjaculated ;
" hasten to the Old-Town — I wished to give the alarm — bat
now — tell them to occupy the bridge strongly, and they mav
yet save the two other districts. Hasten, hasten, Wallenstein;
God be with you !" and he sank back exhausted.

Albert could not leave the unhappy man to lie helpless here
where the foot of the coining enemy might trample upon him.
He lifted him up, therefore, and laid him under the nearest
gate-way. He no longer exhibited signs of motion. Had he
fainted ; or was he dead ? To ascertain this point, Wallen-
stein had no time. He seized the hat and dark mantle of the
once-gay Predetten, wrapped himself up therein, and, leaving
his own rich dress, (which might have betrayed him,) with
the dying man, hastened on, profoundly agitated at all the
horrors which he had witnessed, toward the gate of the Klein-
seite, in order to execute his original plan — that which Pre-
detten had vainly desired to accomplish. He was already in
sight of the river, when the unequal fight in the square hav-
ing terminated, he heard the enemy advancing, and redoubled

164 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

his speed. Beyond the middle of the bridge, he was rendering
up his ardent prayer to all the saints whose images he was
flying past, for the preservation of his native city, when the
Swedes pressed also through the first bridge-tower, and gained
upon him. Some not unfamiliar voice exclaimed, "Fire !" and
Albert felt a ball enter his shoulder. The blood flowed co-
piously ; — but he regarded not that, hastening on as fast as
his wound would permit. The pain was scarcely felt, but the
loss of blood began to weaken him ; and, while anxiety urged
him on, faintness checked his steps. Thus he reached, at
length, the bridge-tower on the side of the Old-Town. The
alarm-bells had already awakened the terrified garrison. One
body had formed itself in the ring ; another marched, in dou-
ble quick time, up the Jesuit-Street, (which leads to the
bridge,) and was near the Tower when Albert reached it.
Pale and bleeding, he hurried toward the soldiers, and crying
out, "The Swedes are in Prague! save the Old-Town !" he
sank, fainting, at the feet of the officer who commanded the
detachment.

The Swedish troops, in considerable force, were now seen
advancing, and soon recognised as enemies, notwithstanding
the darknesss of the night, by their general appearance and
the birch-boughs in their caps. They had already passed the
central arch of the bridge, and presented a speedy confirma-
tion of the shouts of the wounded man, who, meanwhile, had
been conveyed, in a senseless state, to a more secure place.
The gate leading to the bridge was shut in great haste, the
guard mounted, and the Austrians ready to repel force by
force. The assailants rushed toward the gate, but found it
shut, and their attempt to force it was answered by a volley
of musket-shot.

Thrice did they renew the attack, and as many times were
they repulsed by the fire of the Imperial troops. At last,
Odowalsky perceived that, for the present, very little could be
done without heavy artillery. He, therefore, sullenly retreated
to the Kleinseite, not without annoyance from the bullets of

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 165

the Austrians, which harassed his men as long as they were
within reach, He left, however, part of his regiment behind,
to occupy the bridge-works.

He had no doubt but that the single fugitive whom he had
recognised making full speed toward the Old-Town, had been
the cause of his disappointment. He was, therefore, extremely
desirous to know who that fugitive might be, in order to be
revenged upon him in the event of his getting possession of
the remainder of the town, of which he entertained no doubt.

Dejected, and out of humour, he proceeded with his sol-
diers along the bridge road, toward the Kleinseitner-Ring,
meeting every where Swedish troops, both infantry and cavalry,
moving through the streets, — a sign that the Kleinseite had
surrendered without any farther struggle or resistance. But
quite at the end of the street, and before they arrived at the
ring, (which was occupied by Swedish cavalry,) two of the
soldiers stumbled against a dead body that lay close to a
house ; and a richly embroidered cloak, together with a mag-
nificent cap with white nodding plumes, shewed that the
young man — for they could so far distinguish his features in
the dark — must have been of rank and fortune. The sol-
diers greedily stripped off the splendid uniform, and then be-
gan to quarrel about their spoil, every one preferring the
cloak to the cap : but, on minute examination, a rich button
and loop, set with brilliants, was discovered upon the latter,
which gave things another turn, amply satisfying the mal-
content appropriates. This splendid beginning, indeed, af-
forded bright prospects of the wealth to be anticipated from
the taking of a totvn that had been, for so many centuries
past, and until very lately, the residence of emperors and
kings, as well as of an opulent nobility. Yet the men were
obliged to check their impatience and avarice for the present,
as Kb'nigsm rk's strict command prohibited any one from
leaving the ranks. Each had orders to remain with his com-
pany j and night, coupled with their total ignorance of the

166 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

place, and the possibility of being surprised by the enemy, ren-
dered this precaution highly necessary.

The Swedish troops, therefore, after having silenced the
weak resistance opposed to them in the castle, and in various
parts of the Kleinseite, remained under arms all night. Few
of the inhabitants were to be seen in the streets ; and those
who did venture forth paid for their temerity with loss of life.
Thus, the city which had, a short time before, been so gay,
had now become still and solitary as the grave ; and this hor-
rible silence was only interrupted, at intervals, by lamenta-
tions uttered over the couch of the dead or mortally-wounded
— or by the sentinals challenging each other upon their posts.
How much is the apparent duration of time affected by cir-
cumstance ! This short summer's night seemed as if it
would have no end !

When, at length, the first ray of morning, so anxiously
longed for by many a heart, beamed over Prague, it only
seemed to lend its light to the enemy, and to renew and com-
plete the horrors of the night. For, as soon as Konigsmatk
found himself, after strict inquiry, secure from every possible
danger, and that all necessary measures had been taken against
unexpected attack, he permitted his troops, who had hitherto
kept together in considerable numbers, to disperse, sent them
into quarters, and gave them leave to plunder.

Now began the fears and horrors of an hostile attack, in
another and even more terrific manner. The Swedes broke
into the houses. Harsh treatment, nay, all sorts of cruelty
was committed j whoever offered resistance was put to the
sword ; many, especially of the most eminent and opulent
citizens, were made close prisoners, in order either to use
them as hostages or to extort enormous sums of money for
their ransom. The churches were plundered and profaned ;
even the unoffending often wantonly knocked down or killed ;
and the greater part of those valuables which had either re-
mained or been again collected together after the action near
the Weisse-Berg (which had already cost Prague the greatest

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 167

share of its treasures), now became the prey of an insolent
enemy ; for, though the two other parts were spared, the
Kleinseite, owing to its vast number of gorgeous edifices, in-
cluding the royal palace and the arsenal of the Hradschin
(which were in direct communication with it), was decidedly
the most important and richest quarter of the whole city.

CHAFFER XII.

WE will now return to the inmates of the Castle of Troy,
who reached home on this eventful night in perfect safety,
though unaccompanied by any one save their usual attend-
ants ; for, however gallantly Leopold had offered himself to
Helen, as long as there seemed a necessity for his services, he
did not press them when that necessity appeared to vanish.
He therefore took leave of the family at the threshold of the
Castle, and amused himself, as he returned home over the
bridge (at that time still quiet), with speculations on the sin-
gular behaviour of Albert and Helen.

The latter, on reaching her apartment, found her mother,
who jointly occupied it, still awake j and, alarmed at Helen's
pale looks and dejected spirits, she inquired the cause, but
was too much in the habit of yielding to her daughter's
caprices to persist in the inquiry. Helen undressed and
threw herself on the bed, but without being able to close her
eyes j and while her mother quietly slumbered beside her, pain
and anguish kept her in a dreadful state of watchfulness, until
the sudden report of the first firing from the town informed
her that the great tragedy was now beginning. No longer
able to remain in bed, she suddenly started up and hastened to
the window, which, being situated in the extreme wing of the
Castle, afforded a view of Prague, the Hradschin, and adjacent
country — a noble prospect by day, and in time of peace ; but
now, while the flashes of the musketry were darting through

168 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

the gloom of night, and the awful silence was interrupted fay
the report of deadly conflict, it was a sight revolting and
horrible. There, thought Helen, Odowalsky fought; and
every shot that rent the air might deprive her of her heart's
treasure. And what was the probable lot of Albert ? — what
the destiny of many an acquaintance and youthful friend, in
these hours of horror and bloodshed ? She anxiously flew
from the frightful images that haunted her, and tried in vain to
fix her fancy upon some point of alleviation.

Meanwhile, the repeated cannonading had awakened several
persons in the Castle. By degrees the alarm became general,
and at length a knocking was heard at Helen's door ; — she was
involuntarily startled by this unusual summons, and sank
quite senseless into her chair. The knocking now became
louder, and at last awoke her mother, who had hitherto
strangely preserved her slumber. " What's the matter ?" she
exclaimed: — "who is there?" The voice of the Baron
startled the old lady : " Good heavens ! what has happened ?"
cried she, — and in the same moment some shots from the
town struck her ear. She now hastily robed herself, and,
unlocking the door, perceived the Baron with a light. " I
beg pardon for disturbing you,'' said he : " but the best view
of the town is commanded from your windows. Don't you
hear the firing ? I thought you had been long awake, and
wished to know if any thing could be seen as well as heard,
from hence."

Madame de Berka, slowly shaking off the stupor of sleep,
assured the Baron that she had rested quietly until a few
minutes since ; and, on saying this, she went toward the
window, followed by the Baron, and both were terrified, as if
by a ghost, at the sight of the young lady sitting there, pale
and motionless, her eyes immoveably directed to the window.

" Helen !" cried her mother, " what ails you ?"

The sound of her name, together with the sight of her
uncle and mother, in some measure restored Helen to her
senses. With uplifted hands, but without being able, as yet,

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 169

to utter a tone, she pointed to Prague ; and the old people
thought they were to understand by this that the terror of the
firing had alarmed her. On opening the window, it did not
admit of a doubt but that something extremely serious must
be going on in the city : and the Baron, after having looked
awhile and made his observations, resolved to send an express
thither by way of Lieben, as the shorter road by water would,
owing to the darkness of the night, have been attended with
too many difficulties.

He left the room. Madame de Berka remained a little
longer at the window, and Helen with her, still terribly agi-
tated. The firing began to subside by degrees, and at length,
after having lasted about an hour, dropped entirely.

" Now 'tis all over,'' said Helen, with a deep sigh, " and
what is done, is done !" At these words she rose with diffi-
culty from her chair, and tottered toward her bed, shivering
as from a fit of the ague. Her mother hastened to her assist-
ance ; the old lady was herself much agitated and perplexed,
both by the state in which she saw her daughter, and by
anxiety to learn the cause of the commotion ; she rang for the
maid, ordered some strengthening medicines, and wished to
persuade Helen to take them j who, however, obstinately
refused. "The morrow will decide all," said she, in an in-
ward tone.

" Will decide what ?" asked her mother.

" Between life and death," continued Helen, still speaking
and looking as if utterly abstracted.

" Good God!" exclaimed the old lady, " between life and
death r Do you feel so very ill, then ? Tell me now, my
own girl, what has happened ? I fear your spirits are over-
strained, what with the noise of the festivity, and these un-
looked-for horrors !"

'Helen answered not j her confiiding emotions, in fact,
almost deprived her of utterance. In vain did her mother
endeavour to administer consolation ; the only reply she

0

170 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

conld obtain was — " If you love me, leave me alone ; I am
unable to speak to you at present."

Madame de Berka shook her head, as she obeyed and laid
herself down ; but the gentle sleep returned not to her. With
a mother's anxiety she watched each breath of her beloved
child, and this immediate cause of her apprehension banished
from her thoughts every thing that concerned the strange
doings in Prague,

At last morning dawned on these wretched beings ; but the
express whom Baron von Zelstow had despatched to Prague
was not yet returned. This delay seemed incomprehensible ;
but the worst was soon confirmed, when some peasants en-
tered the Castle much alarmed, and reported that the Swedes
had surprised the Kleinseite in the night, and put all the inha-
bitants to the sword, so that scarcely any one survived the
slaughter, and that the streets were running with blood !
Such exaggerations, however, being common, the Baron and
his family knew that great allowances were to be made j still,
it was plain that the story must be but too well founded in
fact, and could no longer be doubted, as all the reports agreed
in this point, that the Swedes had made themselves masters
of the town.

What was to be hoped for, what to be feared, by the inha-
bitants of the environs ? These were the thoughts that now
suggested themselves to every one, and the former courage of
the Baron, who had once fought under Tilly, revived. He
examined the Castle, carefully inspected the preparations for
defence, ordered all his people to make themselves familiar
with their arms, and assigned to the women the task of sup-
plying the Castle with provision.

With the first ray of morning Helen hastily rose, and went
into the garden, in spite of all the remonstrances of her mother,
who thought her dangerously ill. But she expected the re-
port which Odowalsky had promised her, and which she
could only receive in private. At length her faithful maid ap-

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 171

peared with a note in his hand-writing, which alone sufficed
to lighten her heart of a very heavy load. It contained but a
few lines, written in terms unintelligible save to themselves.
Their purport was, that her friend had mainly succeeded in his
enterprise, unhurt by either bullet or sword. The entrance
into the town had been effected with trifling loss. He was
now expecting an ample recompense — not so much from
Konigsmark as from Christiana herself, whom he looked on
as his future sovereign. He hoped shortly to see Helen, and
verbally communicate to her further details.

Trembling with mixed sensations of anxiety and delight, the
young lady was scarcely able to read the note. When she had
Bnished, she thanked God in fervent prayer for the fulfilment
of her fondest wishes, and then endeavouring to calm her agi-
tated spirits, (that she might not attract observation in the
Castle,) retired to her chamber. If her mother was before
astonished at the ghastly looks of her daughter, she was now
no less so at the expression of cheerfulness and gaiety which
beamed on her features. But it was still in vain to ask her
any questions. Helen persisted in saying that she felt to-day
exactly as she had done^ yesterday, and that, with the exception
of the sudden fright, nothing had ailed her.

At length the Baron's messenger relumed. He had not
been able to proceed farther than to the Altstadt, and had re-
mained no longer than was necessary to receive authentic in-
telligence. His account partly confirmed what was already
known ; the Kleinseite was in the hands of the enemy, though
the other two quarters of the town had not yet capitulated.
But the report brought by the messenger, of the horrors, pil-
laging and murders, which the Swedes had been guilty of, both
on the night of the attack, and the following morning, was
truly heart-rending to those who had so many friends and re-
lations in the town. Neither sex nor age had been spared :
the Governor of the Castle was imprisoned, as was likewise
the greater part of the persons of rank and consideration.
Field Marshal Count Colloredo, the Commander-in-Chief, had

Q 2

172 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

however, made his escape, though not without imminent
danger, over the Moldavia, in a small hoat. The despairing
inhabitants of the Kleinseite were seen on the roofs of their
houses, and on the steeples, ringing their hands, and imploring
assistance from the inhabitants of the two other quarters of the
town — who, helpless and perplexed, had enough to do to de-
fend themselves, as the enemy, having drawn the pieces of
artillery out of the arsenal of Hradschin, had planted them on
the ramparts opposite the Altstadt, and now began to bombard
the districts which had hitherto escaped.

It was wise to anticipate the speedy arrival of the unwelcome
visitors at Troy. None of them, however, made their appear-
ance during the whole of this day. They were indeed busily
employed between the distribution of the troops at head-
quarters, and the pillage of the town, which lasted three whole
days. Odowalsky, meanwhile, together with every one of his
soldiers, had orders not to remove to any distance from the
Kleinseite, because Konigsmark kept them strictly together,
from fear of treachery, and distrust of his own good fortune.
It was not till the third day, and after being thoroughly con-
vinced that there was no reasonable ground for alarm, that he
began to think of diminishing the garrison, and stationing
some of his troops in the surrounding country, of which he
was anxious to secure possession.

At the same time, some recompense was thought of for Odo-
walsky. He had waited for it with much impatience, and
fonnd it below his expectation, when Konigsmark, in presence
of all the officers of the regiment, delivered to him the com-
mission of a colonel of dragoons, and likewise a patent of
Swedish nobility, with the title of De Streitberg — a name
which he had formerly assumed. In addition to this, a consi-
derable part of the booty had, it is true, fallen to his share.
But his wishes were more aspiring, and more consonant to the
important services which he thought he had rendered the
Swedish army. Indeed it appeared to him that he had not
only just claims to the rank of a general, and to the property

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 173

of the palace of Wallenstein, but likewise to other estates and
domains, in the event of Prague and the greater part of
Bohemia coming into undisputed possession of the Swedes.
He had found means to acquaint Konigsmark with these pre-
tensions, through the medium of Coppy, who was his friend
and greatly esteemed by Konigsmark, who, nevertheless, had
taken no notice of it ; and thus, his late promotion, however
honourable and important, seemed of little value to the ambi-
tious mind of Odowalsky.

On the second day after the taking of the town, prepara-
tions were made by the enemy to extend themselves. Abridge
was thrown over the river, near Lieben, in order to afford
means of attacking the places on the opposite shore by land,
as likewise to secure communication with the neighbourhood.
The inhabitants of Troy were not ignorant of these move-
ments, and considered the time when the Swedes would pay
them a visit as very near. Gloomy expectation, discontent,
and fear took possession of the minds of all. Helen was the
only person who appeared calm, and she was even gay, for
which circumstance, together with her conduct on the eventful
night, her uncle could in no other way account, but by that
peculiarity of character which is intimidated only by uncer-
tainty, but boldly looks positive danger in the face. He was
pleased hereat ; since, in his arrangements, he derived great
assistance from this sensible girl.

Meantime, night came on; and just as the family was as-
sembled in the apartments of the Baroness, they suddenly
heard the sound of Swedish trumpets in the village behind the
castle ; the enemy was there.

This sound re-echoed in every heart, and filled all but one
with terror. Helen's bosom alone beat with joyful expecta-
tion. Could it be he ? She could hardly doubt it ; she esti-
mated the extent of his services as entitling him to every re-
compense, much more to the trifling distinction of choosing
his own head-quarters. At the same moment a servant entered
and brought the news — that a Swedish colonel with a detach -

174 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

luent of cavalry was in the village, to take up his quarters there,
and wished to wait on the Lord of the castle.

"A Colonel of the enemy? And wishes to wait on me ?"
said Zelstow surprised : " He surely must be a prodigy of
good-breeding ! Don't you know his name r"

" De Streitberg," replied the servant.

" De Streitberg • — Streitberg ? — That's a German name,"
said the Baron — adding, as he turned to the domestic, " I
will receive the Colonel. He does me much honour ; I dare
say it is one of those Germans," continued he, " who lend
their arms and blood to the enemy, in order to make their
countrymen miserable. Well, let us go to meet the fellow !"
And, so saying, he rose Yrom his seat and proceeded to the
great saloon which led into the grounds of the Castle.

He had scarcely reached the balcony, when he perceived
the Colonel, — a tall, stately man, accompanied by an aide-de-
camp, with some others of his staff — coming toward the foot
of the staircase. The Swedish leader stopt a moment, proba-
bly to see whether Baron von Zelstow would not come down
fo him ; but when the latter, politely bowing, remained where
he was, he ascended the steps, saluted his host, and announced
to him, that he was come to quarter his troops in the village,
but for his own persoq and suite begged permission to take
up his residence in the Castle.

Now, this language from a Swedish officer, who stood
there as a conqueror, was complaisant enough. Baron von
Zelstow thought as much, and immediately gave the neces-
sary orders, after which he was requested by the Colonel to
introduce him to his family. This request, made on so short
an acquaintance, much surprised the Baron ; for he had in-
lended to keep them as completely as possible from all inter-
course with the rude soldiery. However, there was nothing
tt» be done but to comply ; and, accordingly, the Baron sent
over to the ladies, that they might be prepared for the in-
tended visit.

The two elder ladies were terribly frightened, whilst in

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 175

Helen's heart all was sun-shine. It u-as he ! The very name
of Streitberg sounded familiar to her ears. One crimson
blush rapidly succeeded another on her blooming cheek, her
eyes beamed with transport, and, but for the consternation of
her mother and the Baroness, they must needs have noticed
the evident marks of rapture on Helen's features. She soon
recovered her self-possession, however, — reflecting that she
had still a part to play, and must not allow her relations to
suspect that she and Colonel Streitberg were old acquaint-
ances.

"I'm resolved not to receive him in my own rooms," said
Madam von Zelstow ; " cousin Berka, and you, Helen, have
the kindness to follow me into the saloon !"

The exchange of glances between Odowalsky and Helen
sufficed to convince both of their mutual love, of their hap-
piness, and of secresy. Madame von Zelstow received the
Swedish colonel with dignified politeness ; and Odowalsky,
or rather Streiiberg, as he was now called, had sufficient self-
command to behave modestly enough for a victorious enemy.

The forms of introduction having been gone through, con-
versation proceeded in tolerable flow — Odowalsky evincing
much good sense, together with that address which the sol-
dier acquires whilst on service, by his intercourse with men
in all conditions of life. " Since the enemy must be quar-
tered upon us," thought the Baron to himself, "a man of
mature years, of high rank and good breeding is the best we
could hope for ;" and thus, after a quarter of an hour's talk,
the parties retired pretty well satisfied with each other — the
Colonel to his men, and the ladies to prepare for the reception
of their numerous quests.

CHAPTER XIII.

HELEN was in ecstasy. Her beloved friend was alive, unhurt
living under the same roof with her j and had been raised—

176 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

as the Swedish Colonel had taken care, with much ingenuity,
to mention in a conversation with his hostess, (who had put
several general questions to him about his family,) — to a situ-
ation of rank and influence, which gave him a right to look
about unconstrained, and to follow the dictates of his heart.
Thus Helen fancied herself arrived at the summit of all her
fondest wishes !

It is true, the remembrance of Wallenstein sometimes rose
in her bosom, and she would have given much to know with
certainty what had become of him. But having been informed
of the favourable turn affairs in Prague had taken, she had no
farther apprehensions as to his peronsal safety : — for the
Altstadt had been hitherto spared by the enemy, and it was
there that Wallensteia dwelt. In the first undisturbed in-
terview wilh her lover, however, she intended to obtain con-
clusive information on this subject, — the only speck that par-
tially clouded the bright horizon of her happiness. She would
not, indeed, venture to originate the mention of Wallenstein's
name before Odowalsky, lest it should excite in him a feeling
of jealousy ; but she felt sure, somehow or other, that he
would himself advert to it.

During the remainder of this evening, the lovers could find
no opportunity for a t£te-d-t£te. The domestic affairs of the
house, and the public business, respectively afforded constant
occupation both to Helen and the Colonel. Thus the time
of supper and of retiring succeeded each other, but not with-
out means having been found to agree upon an early meeting
next morning in a secluded part of the gardens of the castle.

The interview took place. While most of the inmate!
were yet asleep, Helen, fresh and blooming as the morning,
which was beginning to dawn upon the cheerful landscape,
tripped down stairs, and Odowalsky soon followed by a dif-
ferent road through the shady walks of the garden; and even
iupposing they had been observed by any one, who could
put an improper construction upon the accidental meeting of
the young lady and the Colonel ?

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 177

As soon as he saw her at a distance, and was convinced
they were unnoticed, he sprang forward, pressed her to his
breast, and was for some n:inutes deprived of utterance by
joyful emotion. Helen rioted in the delightful thought of
being thus faithfully and ardently beloved by a hero. She,
too, was unable to speak ; but tears expressed her feelings
more eloquently than words could have done ; and, gently
putting aside her curling locks, Odovvalsky kissed off the
pearls that chased each other down his mistress's rosy cheeks.
The storm of sensibility subsided by degrees, and transport
yielded to more level emotions. Helen made several inquiries
as to the events of the last days ; and in answer, Odowalsksy
related to her what the reader already knows.

Helen soon saw that all he had hitherto attained failed to
satisfy her friend ; and feeling much hurt at this discovery,
she concurred with him in deeming the Swedish court un-
grateful, Konigsmark meanly envious, and the rest of the
Swedes insolent and hateful barbarians. As to her own hopes,
Odowalsky seemed to think their fulfilment remote. He
neither could nor would offer her his hand but in the character
of a general. He considered neither his honours nor riches
as yet sufficient to insure to his wife that splendour which,
in his mind, was ihe due of her beauty and accomplishments.
The distribution of houses in Prague, that had been planned
at Pilsen — partly in jest, partly in earnest — had been rejected
by Konigsmark, who rationally alleged its impracticability,
unless they were possessed of the two other parts of the
town.

"But don't be uneasy !" added Odowalsky : '• I shall still
thwart these proud, cold-hearted Swedes. Only let these two
quarters of the town be taken, (an event which cannot be de-
layed much longer, for I know they are greatly in want of
troops and arms) — then, as soon as the Count Palatine arrives,
I both can and will hold another language."

" And do you really believe," asked Helen, " that both
quarters of the town will so easily surrender ?"

178 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

" They must. How would it be possible for them to hold
out? General Wurtemberg and the Prince are on their march
thither. To these I shall make known who I am, and the ser-
vices I have rendered. I have already paved the way to the
Count Palatine's favour j and through him Christiana shall be
acquainted with the true state of things."

" But what can Konigsmark harbour in his mind against
you ?"

" That which all inferior minds entertain in reference to
higher ones — envy and jealousy. He grudges me the glory of
taking Prague ; for I regard the achievement entirely as my
own. He grudges me the possession of the Wallenstein-
Palace, which, as well as the whole of the Kleinseite, is, in
fact, mine by right of conquest. Without me, nothing either
would or could have been done."

" But why have you so strongly fixed on the Wallenstein-
Palace ?"

" I have communicated my reasons to you before, and much
has since happened which would have determined my choice,
had it not been already made. I do not wish that the monu-
ment of one of the greatest heroes Bohemia could ever boast,
should become the property of some hungry northern adven-
turer. If matters proceed as I hope and trust they will, this
palace must be mine, and that, too, in all its grandeur. If
things turn out otherwise, Wallenstein shall, at least, receive it
back without loss or damage."

" You seem to speak in a kinder tone of him than for-
merly. I am glad of this."

Odowalsky, either evading or not noticing this remark, con-
tinued : "At all events things will look more favourable in
case the Count Palatine comes. As long as Konigsmark has
the chief command, all my proposals will be rejected, merely
because they are mine."

" Yet he accepted your plan for taking Prague by surprise."

" The advantages of that were too obvious to be declined.

He had sense enough to see so much. But now the work is

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 179

completed, I find myself thwarted by his agency at every step.
You would scarce think how much pain and trouble it cost
me to obtain my post here !"

"But surely," cried Helen, rather alarmed, " he has no
suspicion of an intercourse which remains a secret even to my
own relations?"

" Oh no I its being my wish is sufficient to induce him
either to refuse it or to throw obstacles in the way. I know
but too well with what eager desire he would impute it to me
as a crime, that the two other parts of the town were not de-
livered into his hand the night before last. He has, in fact,
called me to account for it, in a manner which I can never
forgive."

" How so ?"

"A fellow ran just before us across the bridge. I sent a
few shots after him, and one of them must have hit him, for
we found in his track the marks of fresh blood."

" O, the unhappy wretch !" exclaimed Helen involuntarily.
" Say rather the scoundrel ! He deprived me of the great-
est part of my fame and advantage. Had the Altstadt not
been warned, had they not barricadoed the bridge when we
were not so much as two hundred paces distant from it, the
whole of Prague would have been ours."

" Yet do not call him scoundrel. The man has at least ren-
dered an important service to his native place."

" It may at first sight appear so, but in reality it is different.
They must now endure the siege, and have yet to undergo all
the fright and horror which would otherwise by this time have
been over."

Helen made no reply. The image of the unknown, who,
for the sake of his country, valued not his blood, — who
hurried on though severely wounded, and perhaps sacrificed
his life by his undaunted resolution, constantly intruded itself
on her mind, and she could not help admiring him. Odowalsky
continued bitterly to complain of Konigsmark and the Swedes
in general, till the sound of the trumpets announced to him

180 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

that his soldiers were collecting. They now settled how and
when they should meet again, and then separated ; the Colonel
proceeding to the village where his troops were assembled, and
Helen to her domestic occupation in the castle.

But the rapture wherewith she was animated in the morn-
ing had now given place to all kinds of melancholy thoughts.
She felt indeed the blessing of her friend being still alive, and
under the same roof, but there were many disagreeable feelings
mixed up with her satisfaction ; nor did she feel pleased with
Odowalsky that he had eluded all mention of his having been
sated by Wallenstein, the consciousness of which service, how-
ever, appeared to influence his manner when alluding to
him.

A few hours after her return, as she was walking through
the saloon, she heard a loud conversation, that seemed likely
to terminate in a quarrel, and which induced her to look out
from the balcony. Here she saw some privates belonging to
the squadron of the Colonel, standing below, and seemingly
offering for sale to the servants several valuable jewels and
articles of wearing apparel, — most probably booty from the
unfortunate town. Among other things, Helen observed a
very handsome mantle of green velvet, richly embroidered,
which one of the soldiers was showing to the steward. The
colour and pattern of the embroidery appeared not unknown
to her, and as she was looking at it more attentively, one of
the dragoons observed her, and in an instant was on the stairs,
requesting her to look at an article of jewellery he possessed,
" and which," said the man, with that licence unfortunately
too common under similar circumstances, " is worthy of being
placed in such lovely hands."

Helen looked very grave on receiving this compliment ; but
the Swede, by no means daunted, pulled from his bosom a
button and loop of great value and exquisite workmanship,
which he presented to her. It was a kind of bouquet, worked
after the fashion of those times, and a Bohemian garnet of
uncommon size, tastefully set with brilliants, formed the

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 181

centre of it. Helen examined the trinket with much circum-
spection. The more she looked at it, the more familiar did it
appear ; and suddenly, like a flash of lightning, the thought
occurred to her, that it was the clasp she had two days before
seen in Wallenstein's cap. She was horror-struck, and in-
stantly recognized the mantle likewise } it was Wallenstein's,
which he had worn when he appeared at the entertainment of
the Uppsr-Burgraf. A dreadful conjecture rushed through
her mind, for she now distinctly saw spots of blood on the
green velvet of the mantle. She trembled so as to be obliged
to support herself by the ballustrade, nor was it without the
greatest effort that she asked the dragoon how they came by
the mantle ?

The latter, addressing himself to his comrade, who was
standing below, said, " What passed respecting that man you
found lying in the street? Come up, Biorn, and tell the lady
all about it : you know I was not present."

The dragoon accordingly ascended the steps, and reported
to Helen that they had found the mantle the night before last
wrapped round a corpse, upon the road leading to the Mol-
davia bridge.

" A corpse ?" repeated Helen, trembling, and scarce able to
support herself.

" Yes, lady; as far as we could perceive in the dark, it was
that of a young man, rather slim and tall. Both cloak and cap
lay near him. I took the mantle, and Olaf, my comrade, the
cap."

" And are you Olaf?'' inquired Helen, turning to the other
soldier.

" No, Madam : Olaf let me have the cap and ornament in
lieu of some linen which I took from a house on the
Hradschin."

" And the young man was dead ?" reiterated Helen, in
faltering accents.

" Even already cold," answered the first speaker.

182 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

" It is well," said she, turning, as she spoke, toward the
saloon.

" But, my lady," cried the soldier, stepping after her,
" won't you buy my ornament ?"

Helen paused. She took the clasp, and as she looked at it,
the tears were ready to break forth. The image of Wallen-
stein stood before her as he had been — invested with youth
and manly beauty. He was dead ! and she — what part had
she borne in a consummation so grievous ? This idea,
rapidly passing through her agitated bosom, was succeeded by
that of rescuing these dear remains from profane hands.

The Swede named his price. " But I will not take the
ornament unless you let me have the mantle also," said Helen.
The other man hastened to fetch it ; the bargain was soon
concluded; and Helen, in possession of her relics — for such
she considered them — hastened to her apartment, where,
bursting into tears, she sank en a chair, and involuntarily re-
called all the passages of her intercourse with the nephew of
Friedland.

Odowalsky dreamt not of all this. His military duties,
together with his private affairs, threatened to prevent him
from enjoying Helen's company during the day; but in the
evening he passed over to Troy, and the family could not well
refuse his desire of spending an hour in their company before
supper, especially as he expressed this wish very politely 5 and
the conduct of " Colonel Streitberg" was such generally as
no member of the household could possibly object to. Even
the Baron himself would have willingly conversed with his
travelled, well-informed guest (who was a thorough man of
the world), had he not been a Swede,

In this manner some days past, tolerably quiet, considering
the turbulent period. The Colonel maintained the strictest
discipline among the soldiers, and the Baron took care they
should be supplied with every thing requisite. The only
cloud that now hung over Troy, and disturbed its tranquillity,

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 183

arose from the intelligence occasionally received from Prague —
the news of some friend or acquaintance who had lost either
life or fortune — the details of so many scenes of bloodshed —
and, finally, the certainty of the Swedes being about to be-
siege the other parts of the city. It was not a little distress-
ing to the feelings of the Baron to be obliged to lodge a body
of these Swedes in his house — nay, to receive the officers at
his own table, and thence to be under the painful necessity of
keeping a strict watch over his expressions. There are, per-
haps, many now living in Germany who know, by experience,
the weight of such a necessity, with this distinction, however,
that less refined times and manners, and, above all, difference
of religion, which had then a more powerful influence on the
actions of men, rendered the restraint more severe.

Nor had Streitberg thought it necessary, after the first few
days of his stay, "to observe any longer that studied reserve
which he and Helen had hitherto assumed before her relatives.
It weighed upon his heart, and he therefore threw it off, per-
fectly unconcerned as to what the world migh think. He
seemed to imagine, indeed, that he was the proper master of
the castle, and that his concessions were solely to be placed to
Helen's account. The young lady's aunt and mother, as
well as the Baron, soon discovered that the Swedish colonel
was by no means insensible to the charms of the beautiful
Helen. It did not indeed strike any one that they had known
and loved each other before ; but even the discovery that was
made was by no means agreeable to the family, and Helen
herself wished that Odowalsky had made his approaches less
obviously.

She ventured, in their solitary meetings, to touch, though
tenderly, upon this point, entreating her lover to proceed with
more caution. But here the proud renegade's anger broke
forth, and he plainly told her that he saw no reason whatever
why the conqueror should suffer himself to be under constraint
in the presence of the conquered. He interrupted Helen's
request, in fact, as one resulting merely from affectation or

»3

184 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

indifference : and she, piqued at this, immediately gave it np.
The power exercised over her by his stern, resolute mind, was
indeed so great, that she was inclined to regard whatever
course he dictated as right and praiseworthy.

Meanwhile, there was good store of uneasiness fermenting
in the fair damsel's breast. The declared hostility of her
friends to the Colonel's attachment — the undecided state of
things in Prague, where the unreduced districts were making
every preparation for a gallant defence — and, especially, the
supposed fate of Albert — all conspired to unhinge and de-
press her. Wallenstein's image constantly hovered around her
steps, and would not be bidden away ! Every word — every
look of his, on the last day they had spent together, recurred
to her thoughts ; she could not doubt that he had ardently
loved her, and the very unaccountableness of his subsequent
behaviour heightened the interest she took in his fate. Had
he not, likewise, rescued her lover from imminent peril at his
own risk ?

Odowalsky's conduct, in reference to this latter circumstance,
suffered considerably from contrast with Albert's. Helen
could not approve of his continued silence, particularly as the
softened tone in which he spoke of the youth manifested
that he felt the force of the obligation. It also surprised her
greatly that he never touched upon the fact of Wallenstein'*
death j indeed, in all the news they received from the
Kleinseite, wherein the plunder or bodily hurt of some old
companion was constantly included, no mention was ever
made of Wallenstein.

Gladly, oh, how gladly would she have nursed the hope,
which these circumstances seemed to warrant, that he yet
lived — did not the apparent evidences of his death which she
held in her possession forbid its indulgence!

OR. THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 185

CHAPTER XIV.

WE left our hero lying in a senseless condition in a street be-
yond the contested bridge, whence he was conveyed, by order
of the commanding officer, to a place of safety. From his
uniform, he had been at first taken for the ill-starred Predetten;
nor was he recognised, till, on the soldiers lifting him from the
ground, his hat fell off, and disclosed his exuberant curling
locks, and fine Wallenstein features.

While Odowalsky was engaged in furiously storming the
watch-tower with his Swedes, determined to make a breach,
Albert was thus carried to his residence near the Ckmentinum,
where Father Plachy, roused by the noise, met them at the
gate, and he was struck with terror and consternation on per-
ceiving his beloved pupil in such a state. The reverend Father
instantly dismissed all thoughts of curiosity, his mind being
solely occupied with the danger of his charge. He caused him
to be taken to his room, and laid in bed with the utmost care ;
a surgeon was immediately summoned, and Plachy's anxiety
during the examination of the wound was extreme. It was
most interesting to see the marked features of the stern eccle-
siastic relaxing into affectionate solicitude, and subsequently
warming into admiration, as he learned, in all probability,
Albert had been the saving genius of the Old-Town of Prague.
To his inexpressible joy, the surgeon proclaimed the hurt to be
not at all dangerous ; the ball had not penetrated deep, and
Wallenstein's exhaustion had proceeded chiefly from over-ex-
ertion and loss of blood.

The first question of Albert on recovering was, whether the
bridge had been closed, and the Swedes checked ? — and on this
being answered in the affirmative, his eyes beamed with joy.
He now wished to enter into particulars, and was about tc
relate what had taken place at the Kleinseite, but the surgeon
interposed, and prescribed silence and quiet as being the only

B3

186 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

things his patient had need of. Plachy then received his in-
structions, and the room was cleared of all superfluous visitors.
The Father took his place by the. bed-side of his pupil. Wal-
lenstein looked at him with smiles. The thought that at least
one half of his native place had been saved, and that he had
been the instrument of rescuing it, tranquillized his heart ; and,
after awhile, he fell asleep.

For some time the reverend Father watched him ; and
when he felt convinced that there was no further ground for
alarm, and that sleep must necessarily contribute to the speedy
recovery of the patient, he ordered one of the servants to re-
main by the Count's bed-side, while he went out to inform
himself of the precise state of things. Plachy knew several
of the officers, and was allowed by them, to ascend the steps
of the bridge- tower. The earliest beam of the following
morning found him again at the bed side of his pupil j and,
as soon as the latter opened his eyes, they met those of his
friend, he might also say, of \nsfather, so earnest and unre-
mitting was Plachy's affection.

Albert, although he still felt weak, was evidently much
improved : but his reflections did not tend to compose him. —
What strange occurrences had taken place within the narrow
space of a few hours ! — from the time when he had met
_Helen upon the bridge ! — And what had become of her
amidst these scenes of consternation and horror > Was she
safe in Troy ? Did the waters of the Moldavia afford suffi-
cient shelter against the incursions of the enemy ? He could
not but see that this was hardly to be hoped ; and the anxiety
he felt on the point was so intense as to spread a hectic over
his pale cheeks, and manifest itself in a shock which agitated
his whole frame. At the same moment, Joanna too, by a sin-
gular though not unnatural association of ideas, crossed his
mind. She had been to Margarethen ; — the Swedes had
chosen that road to Plague ; had, perhaps, found the girl in
the street j — and, if so — what nameless consequences might
have ensued! — Thus was he hurled about by tormenting

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 187

doubts and fears, and Plachy was apprehensive of his relapsing
into severe illness, when a voice was heard exclaiming, " Is
he still alive ?" The door was opened, and Leopold entered.
The alarm painted in his countenance, and the questions he
had put to the servants, indicated what he had feared. He
was in an instant beside the couch of Albert, whose hand he
seized, although unable, from excess of joy, to speak.
" Dear Leopold !" at length cried Wallenstein, "Did you,
then, imagine I was dead ?"

" You cannot possibly form an idea," replied Wulden, " of
my consternation, when I was told, half an hour ago, that
you were severely wounded, and not expected to live. I
could not account for it in any way, the enemy not having
succeeded in crossing the bridge, — nor did I hear yoar name
mentioned when the ringing of the alarm-bells, and the can-
nonading, roused us first from our sleep. — Thank heaven,
you are spared to us !"

Father Plachy now interposed, enjoining Leopold to main-
tain quiet and silence, and having received the young men's
promises to this effect, availed himself of Leopold's visit to go
and perform his customary duty of reading the earliest mass at
his church.

No sooner, however, had the worthy ecclesiastic quitted the
sick chamber, than both youths forgot their promise, and after
some explanation of the way in which he got his wound had
been given by our hero, he proceeded to urge on his warm-
hearted friend the fulfilment of two requests. — The first was,
to procure some information about Helen and the castle of
Troy.

" There will be no great difficulty in that," said Leopold.
" The communication is free at present, and I do not think
the Swedes are yet on that side the water. Troy and its in-
habitants must certainly be quite safe up to this time."

"Do you think so?" exclaimed Albert, with sparkling
eyes ; " promise me, however, to ascertain not only what is,

188 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

but also what is likely to come. Were I not wounded, I
would fly there myself."

" Depend on it," answered Wulden, " I will bring you a
true and faithful account. — But you had something else upon
your mind ?"

Albert paused a few moments, and then said, " Leopold,
you are my friend ; you know me, and therefore will not mis-
understand me." What is 'coming now > — thought the gay
visitor, as his friend delivered this strange exordium. Wal-
lenstein resumed : " The daughter of my house-steward on
the Kleinseite — "

" Oh !'' interrupted Wulden, " the pretty girl we yesterday
met on the circus ?"

"The same. She spent the whole of yesterday with a sick
aunt in the Convent of St. Margaret, and was to return to
Prague in the evening."

"Yesterday in the evening?" exclaimed Leopold, start-
ing : " yesterday ! — whilst the Swedes were marching on
that road ?"

"You now see the reasonableness of my anxiety. She had
not returned at a late hour."

" How know you that ?"

" Because," replied Wallenstein, whilst a faint blush passed
across his cheek, " because I happened to be with her father
in the park when the Swedes broke in."

" Ho ! ho !" cried Wulden : but a glance at that pale and
anxious countenance sufficed to repress his intended raillery,
and he observed, as if to himself, " It may have fared ill
with the poor girl, should she have fallen in with the
enemy."

" Exactly : and you will perceive that I estimate your wish
to oblige me highly, when I ask you to endeavour to find out
what has become of her."

" Hem !" muttered Wulden. " This is no easy task, either
in the supposition that she remains at Margarethen, or has

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 189

returned to Prague ; for the Swedes closely occupy all that
neighbourhood. Yet, Albert, the effort shall be made. You
shall have" — and his disposition to the jocular, spite of him-
self, burst forth — " as much information of both the rival
beauties — of Helen of Troy, and the gardener's daughter, as
can, under existing circumstances, be obtained."

The young men went on conversing upon passing events,
until Plachy returned, his sparkling eyes and animated fea-
tures announcing some important news. He had been to
see the Primate Turck, who was in the greatest activity, pre-
paring for the defence and provisioning of the town. The
names of all persons able to bear arms were entered, and
were to be mustered. The students of the Carolinum and
Ferdinand Colleges were animated by one and the same feel-
ing, and anxious to be supplied with muskets. But to pro-
cure these was no easy matter at the present crisis. The
arsenal on the Hradschin had fallen into the hands of the
Swedes. " Still," exclaimed Plachy, " brave hands, even
without muskets, are better than a well-supplied arsenal
without hands to wield them ! We shall soon procure
arms !"

" Yes !" cried Wulden : " nor shall willing hearts and lusty
sinews be wanting."

" And I must lie crippled here !" exclaimed Wallenstein.

"Patience, my son !" said Plachy : "you will be well be-
fore the struggle is ended. We shall have very hard work
yet j and will certainly give the Swedes a reception which they
have not bargained for."

During this conversation, the surgeon arrived. Wulden
and Plachy fixed their looks on him, as he examined the
wound ; but the placid cheerfulness of his aspect imparted
confidence to theirs, and at length he said, "There is scarcely
any need of dressing this wound afresh ; youth has done more
than art, and it is fast closing. I wish you joy, Count Wal-
lenstein ! you may leave your bed."

"And the house also ?" hastily interrogated our hero.

190 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

" Not just yet," answered the other. " In a few days."

" In a few days !" echoed Albert : " I shall at least be well
enough to-morrow."

" You tnnst allow me to be the best judge of that," answered
the surgeon, as he took his hat : "To-morrow I will see you
again." He departed, and was soon followed by Leopold,
after that ardent youth had interchanged congratulations, and
felicitated his friend on the prospect of their marching against
the enemy together.

Wallenstein spent the remainder of the day in his room,
impatient on account of the confinement, and with a beating
heart ; whilst Plachy occasionally went out to gather intelli-
gence, and returned with it to the invalid.

An undaunted spirit animated all the inhabitants of Prague.
The remembrance of their former fame in arms, the memory
of so many heroes of their nation, together with hatred against
the Swedes, combined in persuading them to consolidate every
effort toward a bold resistance. Muskets and other fire-arms
in the possession of merchants or private individuals were put
in requisition. This enabled them to accommodate several
hundred persons, but still left a huge crowd of candidates un-
provided, so that every offensive weapon was collected, such
as haiberts, battle-axes, clubs, &c. Plachy, in whom a
military spirit was now awakened, assembled the students of
the theological and philosophical classes, and, going to the
Provost, offered to take the command of this corps. The
Provost joyfully accepted his proposal, thinking it justified
by the occasion ; and when the students in civil law and me-
dicine, in the Carolinum, heard of the circumstance, all jealousy
betwixt the two colleges was quickly at an end. Every youth
felt only that he was a Bohemian, and that his country was in
danger.

Early the next morning, they were all to meet in the Caro-
linum, and Plachy prepared to address them. Wallenstein
was highly delighted on hearing this. He, as well as Wulden,
eagerly wished to attack the hateful invaders. " We are no

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 191

longer students," said Albert ; " yet I trust you will receive
us into your ranks, Reverend Father ! Let us make a first
trial of our arms under your auspices!" Plachy cheerfully
consented to this arrangement, and rejoiced in anticipation of
the complete success of which so good a beginning, and such
brave recruits, seemed to warrant the expectation.

It was in vain, on the following morning, for the surgeon
to remonstrate against Albert's going forth. In fact, the pa-
tient was nigh convalescent, and would scarcely yield to a few
measures of precaution. His wounded arm was fortunately
the left one. In other respects, he (as well as his two friends)
made a soldier-like appearance, and wore a sword which his
uncle had often used in battle, and had made him a present of,
not without a feeling of mingled exaltation and melancholy.
Plachy had still several arrangements to make, which Leopold
beheld with considerable impatience, for he would have given
the world to have a moment's private conversation with Wal-
lenstein, to whom he had some very important communica-
tions to make. At last Plachy went away, and, in a moment,
Wulden was at the side of his friend, and whispered to him,
" I have an answer to both your questions of yesterday."

" I guessed as much," replied Albert j " pray communicate
them !"

" Know then, in the first place, that Joanna returned yes-
terday morning in safety to her father."

" God be praised ! But who conducted her back ?"

" That's more than I can tell you ; suffice it, that she is at
home and quite well. My second account is of more moment.
Do you know that the town has been betrayed to the Swedes?"

" I suspected it," replied Albert; " for how could the sudden
attack on the one part, and the total ignorance on the other,
be else accounted for ?"

"And do you know who the villain is, that has thus basely
stabbed his country ? — That very Odowalsky, whom you saved
from the hands of the soldiery the day before yesterday ?"

"Odowalsky!" reiterated Wallenstein, a host of dark and

192 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

painful thoughts rushing on his mind: " He! — was it? Then
it was his voice that gave the word of command to fire, as I
was hurrying over the bridge. I thought I iccognised the
sound."

" He has handsomely requited you."

" He did not know me. I should not wish to think so
badly of him as that."

"And why not ! What can be esteemed too villainous for
the apostate to his country and his Sovereign }"

"You are right j and yet there is something within me that
resists the belief of his being utterly despicable."

" Indeed !" said Leopold, significantly ; and fixing an en-
quiring look on Wallenstein, he continued, " And what will
you say, when I tell you still more ? This fellow, whom the
Swedes instantaneously rewarded for his treachery, by appoint-
ing him to the rank of Colonel, and giving him a patent of
nobility — this fellow, J say, has contrived to induce Konigs-
mark to grant him the favour of being sent to Troy with his
squadron, for the purpose, as he, pretends, of occupying the
surrounding country."

At these words Albert could no longer contain his rage. He
sprang from his seat, and endeavoured to grasp his sword,
when the paleness of death succeeded the sudden flush on his
cheek, and gnashing his teeth in bitterness, he threw himself
down again, exhausted, and without uttering a syllable.

After awhile, his feelings found vent in words j and he ex-
claimed, in a mournful tone, " Odowalsky in Troy, and Helen
with him ! Now all is indeed accomplished."

" I shall feel] happy," said his friend, " if this change of
things will restore peace to you, Albert ! Depend on it, this
Helen is a heartless girl, and Odowalsky just the man to treat
her as she deserves."

" You are possibly right ; still, an attachment rooted so
deeply cannot be quickly subdued — at least, not in my bosom.
I feel that it will be some time before I recover from this
shock. But I shall recover from it, and, meanwhile," added

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 193

he, rising with a resolved air, " my heart and hand are de-
voted to the service of my country !"

As he spoke, Father Plachy re-entered the room, and de-
sired both youths to follow him to the Carolinum. In the
Jesuit-Street they found every body in motion, and occupied
with the preparations suggested by the pressure of the moment.
There was a great crowd about the town-hall, so that the
three friends could only move on very slowly. As soon as
those next the entrance saw Plachy's tall figure, and recog-
nised Wallenstein, who, still looking pale, with his arm in a
sling, followed, together with VVulden, they welcomed the sa-
viour of the city with loud cheers, which ran like electric fluid
through the crowd. Wallenstein, overcome by his feelings,
was at once rejoiced and abashed. He hastily uncovered, and
bowed in return for their kindness. A second cheer was now
sent up by the students, for their gallant, although reverend
commander, who, obtaining an elevated ground in the square,
made a sign that he was desirous of addressing them. Order was
accordingly restored, and Plachy began his speech, in which
he called on the students "bravely to hasten to the assistance
of their distressed native town, to repel the insolent enemy
(who had to thank an unworthy son of Bohemia for his ad-
vantages) from the walls of those districts not yet subdued,
to be mindful of the former national glory of the land ; and to
shew themselves, in early youth, the worthy descendants of
their illustrious ancestors !"

The Father's harangue was received with tumultuous accla-
mations ; and the business of the day continued, by the
choice of subordinate officers, in which choice both Wallen-
stein and Wulden were unanimously included, each being ap-
pointed to the rank of captain. They were, with Plachy and
others, to meet the officers of the regular troops in the after-
noon in the Town- Hall, where General Count Colloredo would
appear, in order to direct the proper distribution of the sol-
diers, and inspect the preparations for defence.

The commotion visible in every part of a town circumstanced
s

194 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

as Prague now was, had occasioned a great crowd to collect
around that fine old building, whose ancient spire, elaborately
carved windows, and immense clock, combined to render it so
conspicuous.

At length, the entrance being once more free, Plachy led the
voung men into the hall, and up the small stair-case, into the
anti- chamber. This anti- chamber led by a few steps to the
great assembly-room, whose doors soon opened, and a mes-
senger respectfully desired the gentlemen to advance. This
room of state was spacious and splendidly ornamented ; and
its imposing appearance, aided by the numerous and respect-
able company, struck both our youths with surprise. Behind
the long table, at which Wulden recognised his father and
several of the most distinguished inhabitants of Prague, sat in
a velvet arm- chair, the Grand Prior of the Malthese order,
Field Marshal Count Colloredo, a venerable old man, in a full
general's uniform, with the Mallhese cross on his breast-
plate.

When all were assembled, the Marshal rose from his seat,
and addressing the audience, endeavoured to explain the real
state of things, and to impress on the minds of all, the neces-
sity of the most vigorous mode of acting. He then proceeded
in detail to the measures of defence; and, lastly, appointed com-
manders to the respective corps, assigning to each its position.
They then received their colours, and accompanied the Field-
Marshal with loud acclamations, as he left the Town-Hall,
when he mounted his horse, in order to ride with his aide-
de-camp through the other parts of Prague, and personally to
inspect the various preparations.

CHAPTER XV.

THE Swedes soon felt the effects of this bold spirit, and of
the judicious mode of defence adopted by the besieged. In

OEj THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 195

vain did they direct the stolen artillery from the Hradschin
against the two other parts of Prague. In vain did they bom-
bard the city with red-hot balls ; the inhabitants seemed to dis-
regard these attacks. The first shell that fell in Plattner-
Street was 'extinguished, and brought to the town-house,
where it was consecrated by the priests with great solemnity,
and afterward buried in the church-yard of St. Michael.
Whether it was this religious rite that drew down the pro-
tection of heaven, or the vigilance, prudence, and activity of
the inhabitants (especially those of the Jewish nation, to
whose care was confided the apparatus for extinguishing the
fires), or whether it was both causes combined, certain it is
that none of the bombs did material damage, and thus, every
frustrated attempt to destroy Prague by fire only served to
heighten the confidence of its brave population.

The impatience with which Konigsmaik bore, not only
this delay, but also the evident arrival of fresh succour to
the garrison of Prague, to strengthen them in their resist-
ance, naturally operated on those about him, particularly on
Odowalsky, to whom he never was favourably inclined.
Indeed, there were moments when his gloomy mind still mis-
gave him that this unexpected resistance was a second treach-
ery against the Swedes : — and the consequence of this feeling
was, the closest scrutiny of all Odowalsky's movements.

That officer himself was by no means slow in penetrating
these sentiments ; and thus he and his new commander were
mutually jealous of each other. When, after a day of fatigue
or danger, which he had perhaps spent either on the intrench-
ments, or in some affair with the enemy (without the gratifica-
tion of seeing his services acknowledged), he returned in the
evening to Troy, he generally made all about him, even in-
cluding Helen, suffer for the depression of spirits occasioned
by Konigsmark. He loved Helen with that ardour natural
to his temperament ; and the very idea of losing her, or her
love, was almost sufficient to drive him mad. He, therefore,

s2

196 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

watched her conduct with great minuteness, and nothing but
the paramount wish (suggested to him by his vanity) of sur-
rounding the object of his attachment with a splendour be-
coming her who called herself his wife, induced him to post-
pone the formal offer of his hand to the period when the
conquest of all Prague should establish his wealth and glory
upon a solid foundation, and the rank of General should place
him high in the estimation of the world. Yet, in spite of all
this love, and pride in its object, his rough manners and
habitual reserve were not restrained in the presence of his
mistress, whom he treated harshly whenever under the in-
fluence of ill humour. He had intercourse with people of the
most opposite character ; he received and dispatched letters ;
he had secret connections, and, no doubt, some secret aim
also. Helen, meanwhile, remained ignorant of the meaning
of all this. Her questions and ingenious allusions were
unable to elicit from this determined spirit more than an
ironical smile, or a coarse joke, which clearly convinced her
that, although the object of his ardent passion, she possessed
neither his confidence nor loftier esteem.

Thus the worm was in the gourd — the gnawing worm of
discontent and disappointment. She began likewise to per-
ceive in her lover an essential difference as to their relative
manner of feeling and acting. Daily intercourse brought out
the sense of this difference, which had been unobserved during
those interviews they held when surrounded by danger and
veiled in secresy. Helen grew consequently out of humour,
reserved, and thoughtful ; and in these moods the image of
Wallenstein, whom she believed lost, arose upon her mind in-
Tested with every amiable and graceful attribute.

It was a fine evening in the beginning of autumn. A
storm was just over, and the sultry heat of day had subsided
into a refreshing coolness. The elder ladies were seated at
their embroidery in the great hall, but Helen had stolen away
to her own room, where she sat on a window commanding
a view of the Hradschin. She looked upon the landscape

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 197

belo\v, and was immersed in deep meditation respecting the
probable changes and chances of her wayward destiny, when
her uncle entered the room. A cloud was on his brow 5 and
to Helen's remark on the beauty of the evening, he replied,
" Yes, all inanimate nature seems to revive; but when shall
we poor oppressed beings feel as happy as the trees and grass
do after the storm is gone by ? \Ve should each one join in
praying for the expulsion of these accursed Swedes."

Helen cast her eyes in silence on the ground j and the old
Baron, stedfastly regarding her, continued — " But to you,
perhaps, their departure would be less welcome than their
stay."

He paused again ; and Helen, as if feeling it necessary
to speak, said, " What mean you, sir ?''

" Streitberg, or Odowalsky, or whatever his hateful name,
pays you not unacceptable attentions."

"The mere, thoughtless gallantry of a soldier."

" I fear it is much more. That my niece, the daughter of
ray companion in arms, should bestow her regards upon a
Swede, the enemy of her father's nation and religion were
grievous : but that her affections should decline upon an
apostate, a traitor, neither Swede nor any longer Bohemian,
is indeed sufficient to wrap my heart in tenfold gloom — a
gloom brightened only by my conviction that the invaders
triumph will be as transient as it is partial."

"Do you indeed feel such conviction?" asked Helen, both
interested in the question, and anxious to change in any way
the previous course of conversation.

" Do I not know what my countrymen are able to perform ?
Have I not seen the state of forwardness in which the fortifi-
cations are ? All the students have taken up arms j the citi-
zens emulate each other in the defence of the ramparts ; and
even the clergy grasp the sword to expel the common enemy,
the detested heretics."

Helen was again silent.

"And who, think you," resumed the Baron, "has, at the
s3

198 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUEJ

imminent hazard of his life, saved the Old-Town of
Prague ?"

" I heard that a man succeeded in effecting his escape over the
bridge in spite of the enemy's bullets ; but I know not — "

"That man was Wallenstein ! my cousin, the gallant
Albert!"

"Albert!" repeated Helen, her whole frame in agitation,
" I thought he was dead !"

" God be praised, he is alive ! He wai wounded indeed,
but very slightly. He is now captain of a company of stu-
dents, and, displaying the utmost gallantry and decision of
character, commands the same bridge-tower which his reso-
lution saved."

At (his moment, the voice of Odowalsky was heard in the
corridor, chiding his servants ; and at the sound of the un-
grateful accents, the Baron hastily rose and departed bv
another door.

Helen had scarce any time for reflection upon the strange
and unexpected news her uncle had communicated. It had
occasioned a revulsion in her whole frame, and the visit of
Odowalsky was particularly ill-timed. Indeed, she decided
on avoiding him by following the Baron, and was in the act
of shutting the door behind her, when Odowalsky came in
from the opposite one.

He entered in a great passion, and perceiving the last fold
of her gown within the closing door, muttered to himself,
" How ! Hurry away, when she hears me coming ! This
is strange !" As he spoke, he strode across the apartment,
threw open the door by which the young lady was making
her egress, and found her standing undecided whether to go
on or return.

" What means this ?" said he.

"I am unwell," replied she, in a low tone: " I beseech
>ou, spare me."

" That is a curious reason for quitting your own apart-
ments," observed Odowalsky, with an ironical smile ; and the

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 199

expression of his countenance immediately changing, he pur-
sued : — " Helen ! Helen ! Are my fondest hopes disappointed
here too ? Will the relentless hand of destiny never cease to
persecute me ?"

' She raised her eyes, and beheld in his features a shade of
the deepest sorrow.

" 1 understand you not," faltered she.

"Tell me! Whose is that green velvet mantle, and that
button and loop, which you bought of the soldiers ?"

" Odowalsky," cried she, " you are my friend, and be-
trothed to rne ; — but I recognise not your claim to put such
questions as these."

"What!" exclaimed he: "Has the future husband no
right to inquire into the cause which induces his bride to pur-
chase a splendid plunder — the looking at which makes her
alternately blush and turn pale, and fills her eyes with tears !
I insist," continued he vehemently, " on knowing the name of
the individual to whom these relics belong, or rather belonged,
for they are become yours, and I fear their former owner has
eluded me, and is already beyond the touch of mortal retri-
bution."

He had led her back into the apartment, where she sank
into a chair, and her boisterous lover now stood awhile silent
before her. At length his mood changed again, and he ex-
claimed in a mournful tone : " Have you then, Helen, loved
another besides your Ernest ?"

This appeal Helen was unable to withstand. She started
up, threw herself on his bosom, and her agitated feelings
found vent in silent sobs.

Odowalsky pressed her to his heart. "O Helen ! Helen !"
cried he, " You know not that you are my all j that I have
only faith in you ; and that I could not survive even the idea
of your being false !"

" I have no wish to conceal any thing from you," said she,
in reply : — " it was not the question so much as the tone that
wounded me. It is true, I did recognise the cloak and ai-

200 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

grette, and therefore chose not to leave them in the hands of
the dragoons."

" And whose were they ?" demanded he hastilv, as if striv-
ing to keep under his perturbation.

" They belong to a relation and old acquaintance, to a man
whom I sufficiently esteem, to treat with respect every thing
that once was his. They are the mantle and aigrette of
Wallenstein,"

" Of Wallenstein !" reiterated Odowalsky, with a tone of
returning bitterness.

" I knew them at a distance, when your dragoons exposed
them for sale in the garden. It was the dress in which I had
seen him but twenty-four hours before, at the Governor's
banquet. Spots of blood were visible upon the garment ; I
was told it had been taken from a dead body, probably it was
the blood of my cousin. Is it to be wondered at, or am I to
blame, if such a sight made me shudder?"

"That was natural enough," muttered Odowalsky.

" And was it not equally so, that I should not wish to leave
the property of a relation in the hands of soldiers, who made
it the subject of their vulgar jokes ? Now," concluded she,
" you have the whole story, and see what your suspicions
have made of it !"

Odowalsky paused a few moments. " Wallenstein !"
said he, half inwardly, " He has loved you, that you have
confessed. Helen! Helen!" continued he, with increasing

energy, "If this indeed were all if " he checked

himself. Helen, as with inward trepidation she stood beside
him, felt her conscience upbraid her, as it always will, when
any species of equivocation and double-dealing is practised.
" Give me the cloak,'' cried he, at length.
"And for what purpose?"

" Because you must not keep it. I know no peace while
it is in your hands."

" This demand offends me, Sir, since it proves how little
confidence you repose in me."

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 201

"I love you passionately, exclusively ! I have experienced
quite enough of failure and disappointment in life.

Here " and he pointed to her as he spoke — " I could not

endure them, and live. You must be entirely mine; mine,
both mentally and bodily ; and no relative, no living, or even
departed being, must hold a share in your love. If you are
so minded, if you love me exclusively, then deliver over to me
what you possess of Wallenstein : it can, or ought to be of no
value to you."

Helen answered not : her joy at knowing she was so ar-
dently beloved struggled with her mortified vanity, and with
her respect for the memory of Wallenstein.

" You do not answer !" said he, more vehemently ; " but,
indeed, you have answered. You love me not !''

" Odowalsky, how am I to believe that you think me
worthy of your affection, when I experience from you an
utter want of confidence ? You have confederates of whom I
know nothing. You are pursuing measures equally unknown
to me, and have projects 1 am not allowed to share. If I am
to participate in your fate, and joyfully will I do so, however
matters turn out, I must know you and your plans. Put
trust in me, and every thing I possess of Wallenstein shall,
in a moment, be at your feet."

"So, you want to make a bargain with me, as well as with
my soldiers ? You mean to sell me your affection ! Either
your curiosity or your pride is stronger than your love. My
confederates are, and must be, men ! We are separated 1"
He went toward the anticharnber, and, on opening the door,
one of his dragoons approached. "My horse!" exclaimed
he : " Give the word to mount '." The man withdrew.

"For God's sake !" cried the terrified girl, "one moment
longer !" She seized his hand, and felt it tremble ; she looked
into his face, and perceived his lips quiver with emotion.

" What do you desire ?" asked he : "I am recovered from
my dream. You wish to govern ; to become the confidant,

202 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

nay, the guider of rny actions and views ; whilst I seek but
an affectionate wife."

"And that I will be to you, Ernest !" exclaimed she, quite
overcome ; " I will ask for nothing but your love, and will
bring you all I have of Wallensteiu's." She embraced, and
held him fast in her arms. At length he raised his arm, gently
pressed her toward him, and then stooping, his lips touched
her forehead. In another moment, she went to fetch the
mantle, the button and loop ; Wallenstein was not dead, and
the melancholy charm of this possession no longer existed.
She laid them down, on her return, by the side of Odo-
walsky, without uttering a word ; his plans and his connec-
tions were no longer talked of, and harmony once more
reigned between the lovers.

CHAPTER XVI.

To the great joy of the Swedes, and all who were of their
party, General Wiirtemberg at last arrived with a considerable
reinforcement, to join Konigsmark in the siege of Prague. A
council of war was forthwith held, and Odovvalsky succeeded
in carrying a project, from which he, and most of the field
officers, promised themselves the accomplishment of their
wishes — the entire capture of the city.

The inhabitants of Prague were now obliged to divide their
atteniion, and to increase their efforts, and the garrison had
new duties to fulfil. To Wallenstein all this presented a new
world. He had learnt his military duties from the officers of
the line, and taught them, in turn, to his corps of students.
His post on the bridge tower kept him constantly employed,
and he soon acquired that clear perception of things which
enabled him to penetrate, at a single glance, the designs of
the enemy, and to foresee the wants of his own party.

Plachy evinced the same intelligent ardor, heightened in its

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 203

results, by his superior general experience. He was the soul
of the measures in progress. In fact, the perilous situation of
his country, and hatred of its oppressors, had transformed for
awhile the pious divine into a bold warrior— the calm specu-
lator at the observatory, into a vigorous chieftain.

Meanwhile, to the increasing astonishment of the besieged,
not a single shot was fired from the Kleinseite : nay, it was
even perceived that the Swedes had carried off again some of
the cannon they had originally mounted on the hills opposite
the Old-Town. On the other hand, they doubled their
strength and attacks upon the opposite side. Wiirtemberg
seemed resolved upon taking the Neu-Thor (new-gate) by
storm j and the inhabitants of Prague thought they perceived
that both the artillery and troops which had before been par-
ticularly active on the Hradschin and Lorenzberg, were now
employed in the batteries of the Ziskaberg.

General Conti caused several lines of intrenchment to be
formed in succession, behind each other. He ordered arms
to be manufactured, and the bells to be melted into cannon-
shot ; whilst Marshal Colleredo directed all the soldiers that
could be spared, including the corps of students, to pass over
to the New-Town. Thus Wallenstein and Wulden had now
but little duty to perform, and began to long for a share in
the more active scene going on upon the opposite side,
where encounters daily occurred, and where the gallant
inhabitants of Prague not only successfully repelled every at-
tack of the enemy upon their gates, but even attempted several
sallies, to drive the Swedes from their advantageous position
on the Ziskaberg.

One morning an orderly entered, and announced to Captain
Wallenstein the arrival of a peasant from Gitschin, who had
fortunately found his way through the Swedish posts, and
professed to bring the Count important intelligence from his
estates.

"A peasant from Gitschin?" cried Albert: " And what can
have happened there, of such importance, as to induce the man

204 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

to venture his liberty, if not his life, in search of me ? Show
him in !"

A short figure, in a coarse farmer's frock, entered, his face
covered with black hair, that hung down from his head, and
hindered any one from recognising his features.

"You are from Gitschin?" asked Wallenstein.

" Yes, please your Lordship," said a voice which seemed
familiar to our hero.

" Well, and what news do you bring me from thence?"

The man looked round him embarrassed. Wallenstein
turned to Leopold, who was standing by, and requested him
to withdraw awhile.

No sooner had that officer left the room, than the peasant,
after one more anxious look around, tore off the false black
hair, threw aside the farmer's frock, and disclosed to his asto.
nished master the person of Bertram.

"What, Bertram! How did you get here?" exclaimed
Wallenstein r "

Bertram laid his finger on his mouth, approached the Count,
and said: " I have an important communication to make to
you."
., " From whom ?"

The old man paused, as if half unwilling to name the indi-
vidual. At length he said, " From my daughter."

" From Joanna!" exclaimed Wallenstein, his eyes bright-
ening : " Where is she !"

"She is at home, my honoured lord, and, thank Heaven,
well. — But for my mission;" continued the old man, evidently
so much occupied with the importance of that, as to overlook
the Count's obvious perturbation. " Joanna sends you word,
that you must be on your guard respecting the bridge tower.
— All seems quiet there at present : — but this is an artifice —
one which must surely have emanated from a demon in human
form — and that demon is Odowalsky."

" Odowalsky — Joanna !" exclaimed Wallenstein, as the
two names were thus mentioned to him in unison : " how

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 205

can they possibly have come into collision ? — Tell me, old
man, what does your daughter know of Odowalsky or his
plans ?"

" Sir," answered Bertram, surprised at his master's warmth,
" whatever she knows is the combined result of accident and
her own shrewdness. A certain Swedish Colonel, of the
name of Coppy, is quartered at your palace, between whom
and Odowalsky a close intimacy subsists."

" But Joanna !"

" Why, you see, sir/' rejoined Bertram, in a hesitating
tone, " the girl is handsome, and the Swedes amorous."

" Hell and destruction >" ejaculated Albert.

" Pray restrain yourself, my lord," said Bertram, very
gravely, " and do not suffer"yonr thoughts to betray you for
a moment into suspicion of my virtuous, high-minded child !
The fact is, that love of her country, and desire for the well-
being of her esteemed lord, have induced her to aid their pa-
triotic efforts as extensively as an humble maiden can. In
this view she is ready at the constantly-repeated calls of the
Swedish Colonels (which, by the bye, no one else dares an-
swer), helps at the meals, and fills the glasses, patiently en-
during their raillery until intoxication follows repeated draughts
of your fine old hock."

" The wretches !" muttered Wallenstein.

" Odowalsky, in particular, is most imperative, and makes
himself quite at his ease. Indeed he has pryed all over the
palace, and explored every walk about the grounds, with the
curiosity of a man who is taking possession of an estate.
Last night, Joanna was summoned to attendance as usual,
and found the Colonels most earnest in their double occupa-
tion of drinking and talking. From their conversation she
gleaned that a scheme is concerted to draw off the Swedish
troops for awhile from the attack on the bridge-tower, and
make a strong demonstration in other points ; then, when by
such a manoeuvre, the attention of the garrison is altogether
abstracted from this quarter, it is proposed to return to it with

T

206 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

overpowering force, and little doubt is entertained of the
success of the coup-de-main ; in which case Odowalsky, who
is to command the assault, will force his way into the Old-
Town, and, from thence, join Wiirtemberg."

" And when," inquired \Vallenstein, " is this to take
place?"

" That has not yet appeared ; but Joanna doubts not
being able to discover it by their preparations and her own
sagacity. She delights old Colonel Coppy by her readiness
and attention ; and he, when in his cups, talks without much
circumspection. She is apprehensive, however, that she may
possibly not obtain this information sufficiently early to com-
municate it to you in the ordinary way ; and, therefore, begs
that you will have the goodness, for the next few days, to
cause a look-out to be made every evening toward the
Hradschin, where the declivity begins from the Castle down
to the houses of the Kleinseite. On the night preceding the
attack, if you see a rocket rise from the casile-hill, you will
consider it as a sign*!."

" But the Swedes will notice this signal, as well as
we."

" Scarcely, sir. — Few of our foreign guests (the old man
spoke with a tone of bitterness) reside on this side the Castle.
And even should they notice it — by whom, and for what
purpose it was sent up would cost them more time and trouble
to ascertain than could be afforded.

"And yet," rejoined our hero, " it makes me uneasy when
I think that you, or Joanna, might run a considerable risk."

"Be not alarmed, my lord," said Bertram, confidently;
" Joanna will find out the day, and I will, unseen, fire the
rocket : — and should the matter, as is very unlikely, be in-
vestigated,— why, — it is the frolic of some children, who
have been playing with powder purloined from the
Swedes."

"I will await your information, then," said Wallenstein;
" meanwhile, my kind, faithful Bertram, adieu ! — Remember

OR; THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 207

me to Joanna: — I will not trust you to say what I feel res-
pecting her noble conduct. — Adieu ! — get some refreshment,
and be wary on your return."

" That was a long conversation," said Wulden, on re-en-
tering the apartment. — "You must have found your shaggy
peasant extremely interesting."

'• It was no peasant from Gitschin" replied Wallenstein,
smiling; " It was my faithful Bertram, my house-steward at
the Kleinseite."

"Oh, the father of the beautiful Joanna!" exclaimed
Wulden. '•' And pray, how is she ? '

"A truce to joking, Leopold! — this message regards busi-
ness." And Albert related to his friend the particulars of
Bertram's communication.

" News so important deserves our best thanks!" said Leo-
pold: "And what do you intend to do now?"

" I am going; to communicate it to our Commander — at
least, as far as is necessary for him to know."

" Well said — as far as is necessary for him to know ; for
the grand prior has no occasion to be made acquainted with
the share which a pretty girl has had in the discovery of the
enemy's plans."

" By the bye," said Wallenstein, " it should seem that
Coppy is striving to ingratiate himself with Joanna. She
would not be the first who has made a splendid match among
the officers of the enemy !"

"Joanna and that old drunkard Coppy!" cried Wulden:
"You must really be a little jealous, and not a little in love,
too, Albert, to think of such a thing!"

"In love?" replied Wallenstein, while he endeavoured to
suppress a rising sigh : " No, Leopold ! I neither am, nor ever
shall be, in love again; — though I confess," continued he, " ii
Joanna were in another sphere of life, and this wounded heart
of mine could love once more — she might perhaps induce me
to forget a false, deceitful girl."

T 2

208 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

" I am quite satisfied for the present," said Leopold, laugh-
ing ; " and, no doubt, Joanna would be so likewise, did she
overhear our conversation. Sad pity, she is but a gardener's
daughter!"

Albert smiled, or affected to smile j and both gentlemen,
taking up their hats and swords, sallied forth, to pay a visit to
Field-Marshall Colleredo.

Bertram had, after re-assuming his disguise, succeeded in
getting safely back to his house, where Joanna received him
under the gateway, with breathless joy. His smiling coun-
tenance convinced her, at the first glance, that all was right,
and they walked together toward Bertram's private apartments
— for it was only there they were secure from the spies of
Odowalsky.

There was no time to be lost. On the evening of the

same day, Colonel Coppy, with Odowalsky and some other

officers, returned in high spirits from the Hradschin, where

they had dined with Konigsmark, with whom a long con-

tation had taken place after dinner. Coppy immediately

Jered Joanna to bring wine.

Her heart palpitated as she issued the necessary directions
to her assistants about the house ; and she feared that the
presence of the other guests would prevent her chance of gain-
ing any intelligence from Coppy. Whilst absorbed in these
agitating reflections, and carrying some articles of plate into
the great dining-room, she suddenly perceived Odowalsky
standing before her. This man was particularly obnoxious
to Joanna ; and starting, she wished to turn back ; but hav-
ing seen, he ran up to her, and began teasing her with rude
jokes. She answered him disdainfully, and tried to get away.

"That won't do, my pretty rustic," said the Colonel, who
had obviously been drinking a good deal. " \Ve must im-
prove our acquaintance."

" 1 see no necessity for that, sir ! and besides, you cannot
but perceive that I am busy, and providing for the accommo-
dation of yourself and your friends."

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 209

" Tut, tut !" replied he, "There is a time for all things ;"
and so saying, he offered to salute the indignant girl.

" Stand off, Colonel Streitberg ! or I will shame you hefore
your companions. Even were you master of this house, —
which, thank God ! you are not — such conduct would dis-
grace you !"

" And if I am not, who is :" demanded he, with a sneer.

" Count Wallenstein," replied Joanna, fearlessly.

" What ! the youth who was killed and brought to life
again ! We shall see that, to-morrow."

" To-morrow !" reiterated Joanna.

"Ay, girl," answered Odowalsky, as if wishing to recal

the word — " to-morrow, or next day, or" The entrance

of a young Swedish officer, who came to summon the Colo-
nel to a discussion in the court-yard, enabled Joanna to make
her escape.

"Father!" exclaimed she, half sinking into his arms:
"to-morrow ! to-morrow ! we have no time to lose !"

Bertram inquired the meaning of this, and having learnt
from his daughter what had passrd. coincided in opinion that
they were on the eve of the catastrophe, but, however strong
their conviction of this, they were still desirous, before giving
the appointed signal (whereto so much importance would
be attached) to ascertain the fact beyond possibility of
doubt.

Supper was served. The great saloon in the palace of
Wallenstein, splendidly decorated, was illuminated with
some hundred of tapers ; and Bertram, who, under pre-
text of seeing that the guests were well attended, made
himself very busy about the table and buffet, could plainly
perceive that Odowalsky played the part of master of the
house. Nay, he even carried his assurance so far, as fre-
quently to call Bertram, and express his dissatisfaction at the
arrangements of the table, even adding that such and such a
thing must be changed in future ! Bertram dissembled his
rage, and replied not ; the present was not a fit moment to
T 3

210 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

contradict the Colonel's assumption, although the old man
thought he could observe marks of disapprobation in the looks
of some of the officers at table.

Bertram's patience was not put to a very protracted test. Soon
after the conclusion of the meal, Colonel Coppy rose and pro-
posed a bumper to the gallant stormers of the bridge-tower,
which was drunk with additional acclamations of — "May
success wait on to-morrow .'" All restraint was now at an
end, and the attentive Bertram gathered, that Wiirtemberg
was to commence the attack on the New-Town, and Odo-
walsky, with a sufficient force, simultaneously to storm the
bridge-tower, which being only defended by students, could
not long, it was thought, hold out.

Satisfied with w'.iat he had heard, the old man now thought
that he had better convey himself, unnoticed, if possible, out of
the saloon, in order to rejoin Joanna. But in putting this
measure into execution, he was not equally fortunate as he
had been in gaining intelligence. As he was in the act of
creeping out by a side-door, Odowalsky perceived him.
" What are you doing there, scoundrel ?" cried he.
" What I have been doing ever since the commence-
ment of the evening, Colonel," answered Bertram stoutly ;
" taking care that you are properly waited on."

" And have you been here the whole time ?" asked Odo-
walsky.

Bertram bowed in silence.

" Seize him." resumed the Colonel, speaking to some cadets
at the bottom of the table, "and lock him up in the stable !"

" Why ?" inquired Coppy, good-natured in his cur.s.
" What offence has he committed ?"

"If you don't comprehend what offence he has committed,''
replied Odowalsky, sarcastically, " wiser people can :" and
he whispered in his brother-Colonel's ear, who, in consequence
made a signal to the officers confirmatory of Odowalsky's di-
rection, who led him away.

Seeing the impossibility of escape, and the idleness of re-

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 211

monstrance, an idea struck him, that his very sentinels might,
unconsciously, become the instruments of his design. He
therefore sat down, apparently quite composed, talked awhile
%vith his keepers on indifferent subjects, and, at last, said, " If
we are to spend the night together, don't let us be idle. Per-
haps one of you gentlemen will be so kind as to step to my
daughter, and tell her to send us a few mugs of the best beer
in the cellar after which she had better retire to rest."

The Swede did not wait for a repetition of these directions.
In a moment he was at the door ; but Bertram, as if some-
thing else had suddenly occurred to him, called out, "Stop,
friend ! If she hears that I am a prisoner, the girl will pro-
bably be too much frightened to understand you thoroughly,
and 'twould not do to miss the right stingo. I will therefore
transmit my message in writing, and at the same time tell her,
that I am quite well, and that there is no ground for appre-
hension. Cannot one of you give me a piece of paper and a
pencil ?"

These were procured, though not without difficulty : but the
prospect of getting some additional drink heightened their
efforts. Bertram wrote only a few words, in Bohemian, to
the following effect : — " Light your candle ; all is right ! and
give the bearer a few mugs of No. 4 ! I am quite well."

Joanna had been awaiting her father's return to his own
apartments, with increasing apprehension. It was now getting
very late, and every moment darker. She scarcely doubted
in the least that the intended attack would take place next
day: but the more she felt convinced of this, the more ar-
dently did she long for her father's appearance, in order that
he might proceed before midnight to fire the signal. She knew
that Wallenstein would expect it shortly after sun-set, and
her anxiety increased every instant. She had won her father's
co-operation, not without some trouble, for Bertram, though
very well principled, loved his ease : but now, in the most
decisive moment, she found herself left uncertain, helpless,
and ignorant how to act. All at once, she heard a loud

212 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

knocking at the door. A Swedish soldier entered, and
asked for some beer, which she would find particularised in
the note he had brought.

Joanna stood motionless and in silent alarm as she read it.

"Well," said the soldier impatiently," "is it not right ?"

" I will give you the beer directly," replied the girl : — " but
where is my father ?"

" In the room with us," rejoined he : " The Colonel indeed
ordered him to be locked up in the stable till morning; but
we like good fellowship."

" To be locked up till morning !" exclaimed Joanna, much
terrified : ' On what account?"

" How should I know ? But I believe it is to prevent him
from speaking to any body."

" But nothing ails him, I hope ? ' continued she, unable to
control her anxiety.

" Nothing at all ; he is as well as you or I."

Joanna went into the cellar, and fetched up two mugs of
the best beer, which she gave the soldier, requesting him to
tell her father that she would follow his directions implicitly.

CHAPTER XVII.

O.VCE more left alone, Joanna debated with herself what was
to be done. Her father was confined, lest he should publish
what it was desirable to conceal. He must, therefore, have
heard something : his confinement was not to be protracted
beyond the next morning : and hence it was clear that, after
that period, no further hazard was inferred from his loquacity.
His directions were — to light the candle, for that all was right ;
in other words, the attack was to take place next day, and she
herself was to kindle the rocket. She summoned resolution;
and providing herself, in order to be prepared for whatever
might happen, with a sharp knife, which, together with the

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 213

rocket and a tinder-box, she carefully concealed, sallied forth,
after fervently imploring the favour of Heaven on her enter-
prise, to that part of the Hradschin most conspicuous from
the Bridge, and in view of which she felt confident Wallen-
stein would be posted.

Cautiously ascending the hill behind the houses of the
Kleinseite, the heroic girl had reached that spot from whence
she could distinctly see the bridge-tower of the Old-Town,
and, consequently, be seeu from the opposite side. She had
proceeded thas far with a panting heart ; every rustling leaf,
every bird that moved in the bushes, terrified her, and made
her look and listen in all directions.

Gradually she took heart ; and, looking toward the bridge-
tower, better distinguished as her eyes became more habituated
to the darkness, she reflected that Wallenstein was most
likely even now gazing anxiously for the promised signal.
Once more carefully looking round, to ascertain that all was
still, she fixed the rocket to a tree, and ignited it. The flame
rushed like an arrow, with whizzing speed, perpendicularly
into the air, and soon again disappeared. At the same mo-
ment, she thought she perceived a glimmer of light opposite,
at the window of the bridge- tower, which, in like manner,
immediately vanished. Her inference was correct, Wallenstein
had seen and understood the signal.

Her object accomplished, with a palpitating bosom and
hasty step, she hurried to regain her home. As she moved
quickly on, she thought the rustling of other- footsteps than
her own were upon the grass. Trembling, the poor girl re-
tired behind a bush. She was not mistaken ; the steps drew
nearer — slowly, but firmly j and, through the foliage, she
tlimly perceived the tall figure of a man approaching the spot
where she stood. With the true spirit of a heroine, she laid
hold of her hidden weapon, determined to repel insult or vio-
lence at any risk. But the unknown seemed to entertain no
hostile intention, and, to all appearance, was not a Swede.
As he drew closer, she descried a bandage round his head, and

214 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

bis features were those of a man far advanced in years. All
this encouraged her, and she came forward voluntarily from
behind the bush, preferring thus to shew herself than to be
discovered.

" Who goes there ?" cried a deep, melodious voice, in the
Bohemian dialect.

"A girl on her way home," answered Joanna, with as
much indifference of manner as she was mistress of.

" What were you about here ? Is it you who have fired
the rocket ?"

"The rocket!" echoed Joanna, dissembling but indif-
ferently ; "I know nothing about it."

" You must, at least, have heard the noise, and seen the
flash."

" And suppose as much : — does it follow that I fired it ?''
"Who are you, girl? Your words seem well studied."
" I know not what right you have to question them," re-
plied Joanna ; but she spoke with great mildness, for every
look at the venerable old man impressed her with more confi-
dence and respect.

" I am Count Martinitz."

" The Governor-General !" cried she, partly alarmed, and
partly rejoiced. She now recognised his noble features, and
that graceful deportment which had so often inspired her with
reverence. "Then, with your excellency, I seek to hare no
reserve on this subject. It was I."
" And for what purpose ?"

" I am the daughter of the steward and gardener in the
house of Count Wallenstein on the Kleinseite. The Count
commands yonder post upon the bridge-tower, and my father
having learned that the Swedes purpose an attack on that tower
to morrow morning, has informed his master thereof by this
preconcerted signal. He had meant to make it himself ; but
the Swedes who are quartered in our house, suspecting that
he knew of their plan, have locked him up, and so he sent
me as his substitute."

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 215

"And had you the courage to come hither alone in the dark?
Suppose one of the Swedish sentries had seen you r"

" I knew this spot to be retired and uninhabited ; and,
in short, we had no alternative. There was none whom I
could entrust with a commission of so much importance; and
I considered it my duty not to shrink from any personal dan-
ger when no less than the preservation of our noble master
and of the greater part of Prague was at stake."

"You are a brave Bohemian girl," answered Count Mar-
tinitz; "and I rejoice to find, there are such courageous
hearts amongst us. But what would you have done, child, if,
instead of me, you had met with a Swede, or any other ill-
minded person ?"

Joanna, though reluctantly, drew forth her knife. " Be-
hold, your Excellency," said she, " I was armed, and ready either

to defend myself, or" and her eyes fell on the ground —

" to choose death in preference to a greater evil."

Martinitz looked at her with astonishment. " So reso-
lute?" said he, at length ; "that's nobly said! But, come,
you must not be exposed to further hazard. I will conduct
you a nearer way home, through the court-yard of the Castle.
in which, and the adjacent grounds, (such are the chances of
this turbulent time,) I have been a kind of state prisoner
since the night of the fete."

Joanna took the Count's offered arm, not without a pass-
ing inclination to smile at her strange escort — an inclination,
however, immediately subdued, when she looked upon that
Tenerable countenance, grand in its sadness.

They now entered the castle through a side-door opening
upon a long gallery, at the end of which a lamp burned :
" Immediately beyond is the first court," said Martinitz ;
" Cross it, descend the steps, and you will find your distance
from home much shortened."

They stood beneath the light ; and, while the Count opened
the door to give Joanna egress, she turned to thank him for

216 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

his condescension. The sight of her features appeared to strike
the old man with some sudden and deep emotion.
" Who did you tell me you were?" asked he hastily.
" My name is Joanna, Sir ; and I atu the daughter of
Bertram Schiitz, house-steward of Count Wallenstein."
" And your mother ?"

" She died long since ; — I scarcely remember her."
" What was her maiden name ?"
"Theresa Leben."

He took her hand, and, kindly wishing her good night, re-
turned through the gallery.

Our heroine (for so we may think we may venture to call
her) having gained her chamber in safety, strove to obtain the
refreshment of a few hours' sleep, but in vain ! The mingled
events of the preceding day, together with anxious anticipa-
tions as to the following one, haunted and kept her restless :
and when, at length, the kindly burthen of slumber fell upon
her eye-lids, they were speedily unclosed again, in consequence
of an unusual noise and bustle about the house. — It was
scarce day-break, but Joanna instantly rose and went to her
window to ascertain the cause.

The soldiers were cleaning their arms and horses. Soon
after, Coppy and some other officers came down stairs, all
armed; they mounted their horses, and with great clatter the
whole party galloped off.

Scarcely were they out of the court -yard, before a knock
was heard at the door of Joanna's anti-room, followed by her
father's voice, calling out upon her. She admitted him with
a cry of joy.

" Have you — " he began.

She answered his unfinished question — " Yes, father, all has
been done, and I trust understood."

" Thank God !" cried the old man; " now, come what will,
we have done our duty, and I am hopeful for the best."
They now both anxiously awaited the result of the assault,

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 217

and a distant cannonading soon announced that it had com-
menced.

The preparations in the event of an attack, kept Wallenstein
and Wulden thoroughly employed j — and thus passed the
hours until the sun sunk beneath the Hradschin, and the
bustle of the town gradually subsided.

It grew darker and darker, and no signal appeared. The
lights in the houses were reflected by the stream. Wallenstein
became very thoughtful 5 the conversation, just before so ani-
mated, gradually ceased ; and Wulden could perceive, that
thoughts and recollections unallied to the present moment oc-
cupied his friend.

"Well," exclaimed Wulden, "it does not seem that any
thing will occur to-night : it is getting late."

" I, at any rate, will continue on the watch," replied Wal-
lenstein : " to suffer them possibly to incur danger, to no pur-
pose, would indeed be grievous." Even as he spake, the fiery
herald issued, as it were, from out of the dark earth, and as-
pired toward heaven — the abiding-place of light.

The young men stood for one moment motionless — the
next, Albert seized a steel that lay by, and set fire to some
powder placed before the window for that purpose. The brief
flash was directly swallowed up in darkness — but not before
it had been observed on the castle-hill.

"To-morrow, then, is the day," cried Leopold, delightedly:
" it is nearer than I had hoped."

The friends once more repaired to Marshal Colleredo, and
having obtained audience, made their report — the result whereof
was, that all the necessary orders were issued, and every thing
in an hour or so betokened preparation. Albert and Leopold,
having attended to the duties prescribed to them, sought, in
brief repose, additional strength to meet the impending conflict.

As soon as daylight appeared, the first thundering of the
cannon, which grew more violent and more constant, inter-
rupted the calm of the clear, bright morning.

"Now is the decisive moment!" shouted Wallenstein, and

218 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

every one hastened to his place. At the same time, the bells
of the Old and New-Town sounded the alarm, and every man
able to bear arms proceeded in full speed to one of the ram-
parts of his native place. Never before had the Swedes at-
tacked with such impetuosity and obstinacy; but the most ter-
rific assault was that on the side of the Old-Town. The
struggle was long and obstinate ; the combat, in different
places, had lasted several hours. Many of the Swedish troops
fell before the walls of the New-Town ; and a still greater
quantity had met their death at the bridge-tower, which they
found it impossible to carry, where the students, under the
command of Wallenstein and Wulden, kept up such an ef-
fective fire from the intretichments and battlements, that Odo-
walsky, after having been slightly grazed by a bullet on the
knee, at length gave signal for retreat.

Burning wiih rage and shame, and exasperated by the pain
of his wound, he led his troops back through Bridge Street,
when he submitted to the investigation of his hurt, and for
that purpose proceeded to the palace of Wallenstein, which he
not only looked upon as his occasional residence in town, but
as his contingent property, and bit his lips from mortification
when he was compelled to enter it to-day with fainter hopes
than ever of ultimate possession.

In the midst of these sullen thoughts, he was interrupted by
the arrival of Colonel Coppy, who likewise returned from his
unsuccessful enterprise — the storming of the Spittel-Gate,
where he had been posted with his regiment under the com-
mand of Count de la Garde. The two comrades talked over
the different circumstances that had distinguished the conflict,
and expatiated on the singularity of the failure of their expe-
dition. Odowalsky expressed his firm conviction that treachery
had set the Bohemians on their guard, and induced them to
strengthen the previously-neglected post of the bridge-tower.

"Likely enough, i'faith," answered the bluff old soldier.
" And now you speak of treachery, it reminds me of a curious
circumstance which I heard to-day."

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 219

*' What is that?" inquired Odowalsky, eagerly.

" An officer told me, that he saw, from the Riskaberg, where
he had been visiting a friend, a rocket rise opposite the Old-
Town."

" And did he not report upon it, or take steps to discover
its meaning ?"

" He reported it ; but as nothing more, was heard of the
matter, General Wiirtemberg, to whom the fact was made
known, deemed it unnecessary to take any further notice of
it, thinking probably that it was some school-boys amusing
themselves."

"The dolt!" muttered Odowalsky; and he continued;
" If others neglect their duty, I will not mine. We will find
who discharged this rocket, depend on it." Then, after a brief
pause, during which he appeared lost in thought, he abruptly
added, " Wallenstein is commander of the bridge-tower, this
house is his, and the people adore him. The treachery has
originated here !"

He then rose, and prepared, leaning on one of his people, —
for walking was troublesome to him on account of his wound
— to mount the Hradschin, and make his report to Count Ko-
nigsrnark, a duty which he had scarce ever performed with so
much reluctance.

The interview was long, and marked by those feelings of sus-
picion on the one side and aversion on the other, which every
day grew stronger, and were softened on the General's part by
policy alone, and on the Colonel's by military discipline. Odo-
walsky dwelt with considerable force on the circumstance that
had been communicated to him respecting the rocket, and Ko-
nigsmark appeared to consider it worthy of deep attention.

On leaving head-quarters, the Colonel found the irritation
arising from his hurt too great to admit of his walking further;
and a litter having been provided, he intimated his desire to
be conveyed across the Moldavia to Troy.

Helen was already informed of the unsuccessful result of
the affair ; she had heard too, that Odowalsky had been

u2

220 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

wounded, through so slightly as to have returned to the
Hradscbin on foot. She had hoped, that he would send a
messenger, with a more exact account; but instead of a mes-
senger, she descried, from the castle window, a boat with a
litter, and manned by the attendants of Odowalsky. She
hurried down the steps and through the garden, in order to
reach the banks of the river as quickly as her trembling limbs
would permit.

She had just reached the garden-gate, when her lover, sup-
ported, it is true, by t\vo of his people, but otherwise looking
in good health, met her. "Thank God!" cried she, "my
fears exaggerated the reality." They exchanged greetings,
and Odowalsky explained the nature of his hurt.

Arrived in the drawing-room, the Colonel seated himself,
and affectionately pressed Helen to his bosom." Here let
me rest !" cried he : " With the exception of yourself, the whole
human race is born to torment me, and by their stupidity or
knavery to frustrate my best designs!"

Helen strove by tender assiduities to calm the manifest per-
turbation of her lover's mind, and by the provision of every
requisite comfort to deaden his sense of bodily pain, which was
occasionally acute.

CHAFFER XVIII.

THE parts of Prague unoccupied by the enemy, exhibted, after
the battle, a very different picture. Instead of discontent and
mutual distrust, which reigned in the head-quarters of the
Swedes and their adherents, every heart on the other side of
the Moldavia felt gay and confident. The repeated storming
had been bravely repulsed ; the courage and resolution of the
garrison, as well as of the inhabitants, had stood a severe
trial ; and the loss of the enemy had been so great, as to
make a long interval of rest more than probable, perhaps, until
the town was relieved, an event to be shortly expected, since,

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 221

in the first place, Colonel Golz was collecting troops in the
Circle of Budvveis ; and in the next, the conclusion of peace
could not be at any very great distance.

Scarcely had Father Plachy unbuckled his sword, and taken
off his casque, ere, as the pious priest, he stood at the bed-
side of the wounded (particularly of the corps of students),
anxiously taking care of those whose cases admitted hope of
recovery, and soothing the death bed of such as were given
over, by prayer and consolation. As soon as he had ful-
filled these sacred duties, he hastened to Wallenstein, whom
he found with his friend Wulden, talking over the labours
of the day. Albert, at sight of the worthy ecclesiastic, ran
toward him and pressed his hand.

" God bless you, my boy !" said Plachy, much affected,
" and grant that you may emulate the fair fame of your noble
uncle !"

The three friends sat down to take some necessary refresh,
ment, and to "fight their battles o'er again" in cheerful con-
verse. There was one reflection, however, which seemed to
check the exuberance of Wallenstein's mirth j it was connected
with the danger that had possibly accrued to Joanna, in con-
sequence of her agency with respect to the rocket.

Nor was this apprehension groundless. Odowalsky, loudly
and publicly insisting on an inquiry, Konigsmark was induced
to appoint a committee for the investigation of the affair, of
which committee Odowalsky was himself constituted a mem-
ber. His most anxious desire was to be revenged on the
betrayer of his individual scheme, as well as on Wallenstein,
who became more hateful to him every day, and whom he
hoped to mortify by the punishment of one of his most faithful
dependents, for his natural sagacity had at once fixed on
Bertram as the delinquent.

Konigsmark, disgusted with all these proceedings, took
advantage of the short interval of the armistice, to compliment
upon his arrival in Leipsic, the Count Palatine, Charles
Gustavus, to whom Queen Christiana had confided the coni-

222 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

m and of her whole army. This Prince had brought with him
a considerable reinforcement from Sweden, and was on the
point of marching his troops into Bohemia, for the reduction
of Prague. Konigsmark, therefore, naming Count Magnus
de la Garde president of this commission, set out for Saxony.

Nothing came to light for some time respecting the sup-
posed signal. Bertram stoutly denied every thing, and no
one suspected Joanna. Another method was now therefore
taken, by endeavouring to ascertain what person from the
Government-Castle might have been on that spot at the time
coinciding with the account of the Swedish officer who had
noticed the signal.

And here, to the great astonishment of every member of the
court, the course of the examination brought before them
a person whose rank, birth, and character differed widely
from those hitherto scrutinized. This was Count Martinitz,
Governor- General of Bohemia, the first person in the king-
dom, and representative of the sorereign. He had been walking
that evening — on this point all accounts agreed — quite alone, on
that part of the Castle-hill. His hatred to the Swedes, and to
the creed which they supported in Germany, was well known ;
whilst his high station, and the universal attachment of the
people, might well place it in his power to obtain secret in-
formation of every thiug going on both in Prague and with
the besieging army. Count de la Garde was much inclined to
put an end to an inquiry which could now lead to none but
painful results ; for what measures could be adopted, in case
0* conviction, against a man of the governor's powerful con-
nections and of such an advanced age, that would not be ex-
tremely odious, and, possibly, in the event, disastrous to the
Swedes themselves ? Odowalsky, however, rose in a fury,
and maintained, in an energetic speech, that it was these
severe measures only which could ensure the safety of the
Swedish troops in the middle of a people addicted to sedition
and rebellion. The votes of the officers began to be divided.
One part adhered to their former opinion, and wished to sup-

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 223

press the inquiry ; whilst the other, and by far the most nu-
merous, were induced by Odowalsky's speech to insist upon
instituting criminal proceedings against the Governor General.

All that the President of the Commission could obtain was
authority to interrogate Count Martinitz at his own apart-
ments in the castle, rather than summon him before the
military tribunal ; and hoping to receive full exculpation from
the venerable old man, he proceeded, though reluctantly, to
fulfil his mission.

Count Martinitz received De la Garde with politeness and
urbanity ; but when the latter went on to explain the purport
of his visit, the Count, like an old tactician, shrank into silence
and dogged reserve. He knew nothing of the affair : he had
neither seen the rocket nor the person who fired it ; and in
conclusion begged to be excused from answering such in-
quisitorial questions, which he regarded as offensive to his
self-respect and dignity.

De la Garde reported the denial of the Governor, and urged
the indelicacy of subjecting that nobleman to any further
scrutiny ; but, overpowered by a majority of votes, was at
length obliged to yield to the arrangement of Count Martinitz
being confined, as a close prisoner, to his own room, until he
should feel disposed to be more explicit. The old Governor-
General submitted to this fresh insult with dignified com-
posure, and struggled manfully with his rising indignation
when apprised that even the Countess, his wife, could not be
suffered to hold intercourse with him unless in presence of a
Swedish officer.

The proceedings of the investigating committee had pre-
viously been little regarded, and their purport scarcely under-
stood. Now, however, they were adverted to, and watched,
with interest and apprehension. Exaggerated rumours, as is
usual, flew around ; and a report quickly penetrated, among
other quarters, into the Wallenstein-Palace, that the life of
the honourable man was in imminent danger.

" My dear father !" cried Joanna, as soon as the friend who

224 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

brought his intelligence had left the room : " My dear father!
I neither can nor will be silent any longer. The life of Count
Martinitz is threatened by these diabolical Swedes, because he
is considered, it seems, the author of that signal, but, from
which accusation he must be cleared."

"Joanna !" exclaimed Bertram, much alarmed, " What are
you thinking of ? Do you wish us to become our own ac-
cusers !"

"You, father," replied she, calmly, "are not implicated in
this matter. I am the delinquent j and it is, therefore, but
just "

"O God !" cried the old man, in anguish, "You will de-
stroy yourself without saving him !"

" Why, surely, were I to come forward and admit that

it was I "

"" They will not believe you ; you will ruin yourself, and
me to too, without being of any use to the Governor."

" Be at peace, father, at least as far as regards yourself. I
have long considered the matter ; indeed, ever since I heard
this inquiry was pending. It was I alone who originally ex-
torted the secret from these Swedish monsters ; I alone gave
the signal. You were a prisoner at the time, and they dare
not touch a hair of your head ! and, as to me, it is by no
means clear that they would proceed to extremities. Their
object is to intimidate, not to be gratuitously cruel !"

Joanna found it difficult to prerent him from participating
in her confession. Bertram tenderly loved his daughter 5 and
the idea eren of dying with her, appeared less afflicting, than
that of seeing her exposed to danger in which he had no share.
Notwithstanding, the girl found sufficient address to quiet her
father's anxious solicitude on this point also, persuading him,
that the actions of a woman were far less likely to be visited
with severity than those of a man.

Having thus wrung from the poor old man his slow consent,
the Bohemian maiden, simply and modestly dressed, and at-
tended only by a female servant, ascended with a sorrowful

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 225

but firm heart, the castle steps, timidly approached the Swedish
sentries, and requested an audience of the Count de la Garde,
as a citizen's daughter from the Kleinseite, who had some im-
portant communication to make to him respecting the signal
given to the enemy on the eve of the storming of the bridge-
tower.

She was soon admitted, and entered, covered with blushes ;
for there were a great number of officers with the Count, and
the eyes of all were turned upon her. She paused a moment,
and the striking beauty as well as innocence of her appearance,
induced De la Garde to advance a few steps, and suggest her
adjourning into another room, where, finding herself alone
with the noble Swede, she summoned all her strength of mind,
and said — " 1 have been informed, sir, that an inquiry has been
set on foot against his excellency, the governor, who is ac-
cused of having fired that rocket which, in the Swedish head-
quarters, has been regarded as a signal given to their enemy."

" You are right," answered De la Garde, courteously j —
"Have you any further details to communicate ?"

" I have,'' replied she, " and if you, sir, will pledge your
word that Count Martinitz shall be restored to liberty, and no
longer exposed to trouble and vexation, when you know the
guilty person, I will disclose that person."

"You?"

" Will you give me your promise?"

" Yes, provided the Count can be fully exculpated."

" He can, most fully and unreservedly. — It was / who
fired the rocket."

"And do you tell me this yourself?"

" I cannot endure to see an innocent man, and one so
universally respected, suffering for an action of my own, and
of which, I candidly confess, I am proud."

De la Garde looked at Joanna with astonishment. " Who
are you, young woman ?" asked he.

She told him her name, and explained, in addition, the cir-

226 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

eumstances which had preceded and accompanied the dis-
charge of the rocket, carefully suppressing, however, her en-
counter wit,h Martinitz. Her father's expedition also to Wai-
lenstein, in disguise, to apprise him generally of the Swedish
scheme, she appropriated to herself; — and ended, after ex-
citing at once the astonishment and incredulity of her auditor.
He listened to her with deep attention, but doubted while he
listened, and when she had concluded, told her as much.
Joanna persisted, however, in her confession ; and when De
la Garde pointed out the evil consequences which might, and
most probably would, be entailed on her thereby, she shud-
dered, but continued firm. At length, De la Garde, after
looking at her for awhile with great interest, said : " After
what has passed between us, I cannot allow you to be at
large ; at the same time I do not wish, for the present, to
avail myself of your voluntary impeachment. A commodious
room shall be assigned to you, where I beg you to reflect upon
what I have said ; and if you shall find, that your generosity,
or whatever other motive may have induced you thus to screen
Count Martinitz at your own expense, has carried you too
far, remember, it is Count de la Garde who has heard your
confession, and not the president of the committee."

Joanna made her obeisance, and, not without emotion,
thanked the Count for his candour, and then willingly fol-
lowed a servant, who was ordered by the Count to conduct
her to an apartment named by himself. Here, in the solitude
of a confined room, which, though tolerably clean and con-
venient, only received its light from a high grated window,
the possible consequences of her step began gradually to un-
fold themselves. At times, indeed, unused to strong trials,
she doubted that she had gone too far. She pictured to her-
self her father's sorrow, and the anxiety of Wallenstein, were
he to hear of her situation ; and yet, strange to say ! this
latter thought served in some degree to comfort her. It was
for his sake she had run so great a risk; and she knew him

OH, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 227

too well, not to feel assured, that he would approve of the
course she had taken, and be convinced she ought not, under
all circumstances, to have acted otherwise.

CHAFIER XIX.

Ax the town hall, in Leipsic, a magnificent entertainment was
prepared for the Count Palatine and all the officers of his staff;
and it seemed as if similarity of religious worship, and the
hopes which, in this respect, the Protestant party had formed
from their alliance with the Swedes, had induced them to
forget all the hardships they had suffered for several years
from this very army.

Konigsmark, on his arrival, availed himself of the first
leisure moment, on the following day, to communicate to the
Prince the real situation of things before Prague, and the re-
duced state of his army, owing to their repeated fruitless
attacks, as well as to the sallies of the besieged ; and, finally,
he consulted with the Prince on the measures necessary to be
adopted, in order to get possession of the whole town. Gus-
tavus did not feel at first disposed to proceed to Bohemia with
the entire force that Christiana had placed under his command,
desirous rather to direct his march toward Bavaria, for the
purpose of supporting General Wrangel ; and only to send a
detachment of his army to Bohemia. But the reasons urged
by Konigsmark, who represented to him the vital importance
of the capture of Prague, at last prevailed, and the Count
Palatine resolved to commence his military career in a brilliant
manner, by the reduction of a place of so much consequence.

Odowalsky, who had positive orders from Konigsmark not
to leave Prague, but who nevertheless contrived, through the
medium of certain friends, to make interest with Gustavus,
had by this means, at the same time that he looked forward
with malicious satisfaction to the punishment of Joanna, re-

228 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

ceived the promise of being promoted on the first vacancy to
the rank of General. For the first time during a long period,
he experienced unrningled satisfaction ; and his sanguine tem-
perament, ever tending to exaggeration, led him to feel cer-
tain of the ultimate accomplishment of all his views. In
this spirit he repaired to Troy, where, without first waiting on
Helen, he requested an audience of the Baron, and in due
form demanded the hand of his niece, adding that he was in
hopes of wedding her in the character of a general.

The Baron had by degrees become more accustomed to
Odowalsky, or Streitberg, as he was there addressed j and per-
ceiving the decided sentiments of the young lady, thinking,
too, that the conclusion of peace would soon make them all
friends, aud possibly somewhat proud at the idea of an
alliance with an influential Swedish officer, his original strong
prepossessions had begun to give way. The Colonel's pro-
posal, therefore, was received at all events with complacency j
and the Baron answered, that provided his niece and her
mother were friendly to the union, his own consent should not
be withheld.

Helen was accordingly summoned. She was surprised to
find Odowalsky with her uncle, without her having previously
seen him ; and this surprise was increased when the purpose
of his visit was communicated, and Odowalsky, with dignified
politeness, in the presence of the Baron, demanded the honour
of her hand. While smiles and blushes increased her beauty,
she gave consent j and the tenderness wherewith her lover
pressed her to his heart, his features quivering with emotion,
gave him a higher claim to the esteem of the Baron, while
Helen was fairly enchanted. The aunt and mother now
joined the family council. The former was still prejudiced
against the Colonel; for, with a true woman's pertinacity,
she did not forget the hopes she had entertained of her cousin
Wallenstein being the object of Helen's choice. She could
not, however, under the circumstances, refuse her sanction;
and, as for Madame Berka, herself a Protestant, the thought

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 229

of her daughter's union with a general- elect of the all-powerful
Swedes, gave birth to many feelings calculated to gratify, in-
deed, to elate her.

Meanwhile, in spite of the blockade, our volatile friend,
Leopold, contrived to possess himself of almost all the small
talk of the Kleinseite and other places held by the enemy ;
and, among these scraps of intelligence, he learnt the circum-
stance of Odowalsky's proposal for Helen, his acceptance, and
the preparations that were making for the nuptials, which
were to be celebrated on the arrival of the Count Palatine, by
whom, it was expected, Odowalsky's commission as General
would be received. Lest any undexterous tongue should
charge itself with the communication of this news to Wallen-
stein, Wulden, immediately on hearing it, sought his friend,
and was commencing the disclosure in a very circuitous way,
when Albert cut him short by anticipating the intelligence,
and proving that he could receive it almost with indifference.
In fact, the events of the last few weeks had done much to
dissolve the spell in which Helen's fascinations had originally
bound our hero. He now clearly saw and felt that the woman
who could hang upon this Odowalsky, and that Helen whom
he had loved were two beings totally distinct. He, therefore,
commented on Leopold's information with calm seriousness,
lamented Helen's ill fate, and united with his friend in pre-
dicting the unhappiness which so ill-assorted a marriage
seemed to render certain.

Helen was seated one day with her mother at the window
which looked toward the city, and engaged in choosing from
amongst sundry rich stuffs, laces, &c., some articles for her
wedding-suit, when a boat glided across the Moldavia, and
shortly after the sound of Odowalsky's firm siep was heard
ascending the stairs. Helen flew to meet him, and he entered
smiling, and inquiring whether she had finished the selection
of her dress : — " You must dispatch, ladies !" said he ; " the
Palatine will very shortly be here."

" We had just formed ourselves into a committee of tasle,"
x

230 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

said Madame de Beika, " and we will vote you a member.
Now, what think you, Colonel, of this white dress with the
silver clasps and this ruby collar?"

" Dear Madam," answered Odowalsky, with a smile, " I
fear I am but bad authority on these subjects. But I have
ground for confidence in knowing that my Helen will ever be
beautiful, robe herself as she may. But perhaps," continued
he, " you would have the kindness to inform my people that
they need not wait. I was so anxious to greet my bride, that
I overlooked giving them the necessary directions."

This rather broad hint was forthwith taken ; and Madame
Beika, good-humouredly shaking her head, left the room.

The lovers were now alone, and Odowalsky proceeded to
unfold, much to Helen's astonishment, the history of the
signal-rocket and of Joanna, and her interest was at once
fixed by some hints thrown out touching a probable liaison
between the girl and her master.

" But if such be the case," said Odowalsky, the gleam of
triumphant malice passing over his features, " 1 think I know
how to cross their loves. This is, however, no ordinary
maiden. She has abundant resolution, and is handsome too,"
added he, as if willing still further to excite his hearer's at-
tention.

" And what will become of her ?'' asked Helen, timidly,
and half shuddering at the expression of her lover's counte-
nance.

"That, we have not ye* decided. The offence wherewith
she stands charged, on her own admission, is a serious one,
and may, if rigorous justice be enforced, touch her life. But
then," continued he, apparently debating with himself, "in
these cases, death redeems and ennobles, even if undergone
ignominiously. Were it not better," and be turned to Helen
as he spake, " were it not better to fix an indelible stain upon
this rustic pet of Wallenstein's, and let her carry it about her
through a long life ? the brand, for instance, or the pillury ?
What think you >"

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 231

" IQ this I have no voice j'' answered Helen, much shocked.
" If the girl you speak of must be sacrificed to the stern neces-
sities of a state of warfare, let her at least be honorably
doomed. Degrade not, in her person, the sex you profess to
reverence, and whereto I belong."

This serious appeal evidently moved the person to whom it
«as addressed. Better feelings seemed to check the dark and
malignant vengeance orer which his heart had been brooding,
and the bitter speer wherewith he had alluded to VVallenstein's
imagined prepossession, gave place to a frank smile, as he
drew the blooming but indignant woman before him upon
his knee, and kissed away the sorrowing expression from her
countenance.

Meanwhile the activity of the garrison and citizens in com-
pleting new means of defence, and repairing the walls (which
had been much damaged by the enemy's artillery) still continued
unremitting. Since the departure of Konigsrnaik, the command
of the Swedish army had been held by General Wiirteniberg.
At a council, it was resolved that, all things considered, Chris-
iana's cause would be more fully advanced by the breaking- up
of the army at present lying before Prague — more especially as
the Count Palatine would be able to invest it far more effec-
tively. Wiirtemberg, therefore, gave orders accordingly ;
and the inhabitants of the besieged city beheld with astonish-
ment, that same morning, the sinking of the Swedish lines of
tents upon the Ziskaberg and every adjacent height, the with-
drawing of the cannon, and the getting into motion of the
Wiirtemberg corps. Overjoyed, they exchanged congratula-
tions with each other respecting this unlocked for release, the
occasion whereof seemed at first almost miraculous : commu-
nication with the country around was re-established, and pro-
visions became once more tolerably plentiful.

x2

232 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

CHAPTER XX.

WALLENSTEIN, in the mean time, had been a prey to many
anxious thoughts. He had heard that the Swedes had dared
to draw within their detested web his noble friend, Count
Martinitz, the information of which fact was accompanied by
a number of different rumoars. All these contradictory re-
ports, each of which contained a little substratum of truth,
filled his heart with immediate fear for Count Martinitz and
remote apprehensions concerning Joanna, over whom he saw
the sword hanging as it were by a thread. Willingly, there-
fore, did he avail himself of the new state of things, and ac-
companied Wulden to a garden situated before the Korn-Gate,
the fresh verdure whereof most gently wooed their senses
after so much confinement.

Here he found several Swedish officers belonging to the
corps left in possession of the Kleinseite ; for the place was
at present regarded (by a sort of tacit compact) as neutral
ground. He sat down at a table where a couple of Swedes
had already seated themselves, and whom Leopold had en-
gaged in conversation. The discourse for a time turned upon
various unimportant matters. The Swedes spoke in reviling
terms against a country wherein wine was with difficulty to
be procured — paying, meantime, due devotion to the Bohemian
beer ; whilst Wallenstein sought some occasion (without ex-
citing suspicion) of bringing into debate the occurrences of
the day and the celebrated examination.

Thus occupied, his whole attention was enchained by the
dialogue of a couple of dragoons who had seated themselves
next to some citizens of the Old-Town at a table behind him.

" I tell you, she is a witch," said one of these men.

" Are you not ashamed of such silly superstition ?" returned
the other. " Our Colonel, who is acquainted with every
thing, says there are no witches."

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 233

" Our Colonel," rejoined the first, " is a free-thinker, that
is well known: he goes to no church, and mocks the preachers
as well as the monks : but with us in Sweden, every child
can tell you, that the Fins carry on all sorts of witchery."

"Ay, indeed!" interrupted one of the Old Town citizens,
" I have often heard so j and is it true ?"

" To be sure," replied the first dragoon, " and has been so
ever since the heathen times."

" But what has this to do, even if granted, with the maiden
of the Kleinseite ?" asked another citizen.

" She has, doubtless, had recourse to magical arts in frustra-
ting our scheme for the capture of the bridge- tower," answered
the soldier.

"Magical arts! Nonsense!" exclaimed his comrade:
" She carried on some understanding with her people on the
other side. They say she has a paramour amongst the gar-
rison here," addedj he, turning to the citizens j " you ought
to know that better than we."

"The maiden," exclaimed a Bohemian, who had not pre-
viously joined in the discourse, " bears an exemplary character.
I think it very improbable that she ever had a paramour, par-
ticularly among soldiers."

" She must have been in understanding with some one,"
said the least superstitious of the Swedes.

" With the Devil !" exclaimed his more credulous compa-
nion ; " and for that understanding, she will, to-morrow, be
burnt as a witch."

Hitherto Wallenstein had listened, though with great
anxiety, still, with resolute calmness. But, at the last words
of the dragoon, he sprang up, upon which Wulden rose also,
and, taking Albert's arm, led him a little aside, entreating him
to be composed, and offering to extract from the officers with
whom he had previously held converse, the facts of the case.

Resuming discourse with these gentlemen, he said, smiling,
" Our neighbours are discussing no less serious a subject than

x 3

234 THE SWEDES INT PRAGUE ;

the existence of witchcraft, and talk of the burning of a witch
in the Kleinseite to-morrow. What means this r"

" Oh, the blockheads!" answered "one of the officers, "they
don't know what they talk about. There certainly is, however,
a delinquent — and that a female one — to be executed to-
morrow." Wallenstein grasped Leopold's arm, and turned
deadly pale, but remained silent.

" And her crime," said Wallenstein, making a desperate
effort to repress his maddeniug emotion, " merely faithfulness
toward her Prince and country ! Is not this sentence strange r"

" Not a whit," replied the other ; " It is the custom and the
chance of war, the penalty has been risked and will be enforced."

"Punish, but surely not with loss of life ! — and a woman
too !" exclaimed Albert, his words almost inaudible from
excess of controlled feeling, which was, in fact, on the point
of bursting its boundary.

Lest this untoward accident should happen, Leopold, bow-
ing to the officers, withdrew his friend, and hurried him, appa-
rently scarce conscious whither he was led, out of the garden.

No sooner did he perceive himself alone with Wulden, how-
ever, than Wallenstein abruptly paused, and, turning on his
companion a countenance in which stern resolve strangely
blended itself with bitter suffering, he said, " Leopold, she
must be rescued !''

" She shall .'" answered the other, returning the convulsive
pressure of his hand ; " only dear Wallenstein, unbend that
rigid gaze, and recover your self-possession."

After the lapse of another minute, the strained eye.balls
became relaxed, and their wild expression was drowned in a
flood of tears. " I cannot," exclaimed the poor youth, throw-
ing himself upon the bosom of his friend, " I cannot over-
come the horror, the agony, of this news ! Joanna to suffer
death! and from devotion to her country, and to me!"

Wuiden let the first violence of emotion subside, and then
said, " My friend, my brother ! You may rely upon me.

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 235

My whole strength, powers, ray life itself, — all are yours.
But come, Albert, rest upon this bank : — you are agitated as I
never saw you before."

" Let us not lose one moment," cried Wallenstein : " we
must first learn where her place of confinement is situated, and
then invent the means to free her thence."

" But not by the employment of force : — that will hardly
succeed. Think on the favourable position of the Swedes !''

" Force or fraud, 1 care not ! Somehow, her rescue

must be accomplished. Upon my students I can depend.
They will storm the castle, if I command it." —

" Why, Wallenstein," said Leopold, forcing a grim smile :
" Where is your customary discretion ? Cunning, not teme-
rity, must aid us in this business. I have already a scheme
forming in my mind ; follow me to the town : all depends on
our gaining exact information."

Wallenstein almost involuntarily followed his friend, whose
self-command and promptitude on this occasion displayed
points in his character hitherto undeveloped. In the town,
the news of the threatened execution now began to
spread with surprising rapidity, and to exasperate the minds
of all at the cruelty of the Swedes. A sensation, bordering
even upon the worship of a martyr, seized every heart, and
steeled it against the unsparing enemy.

Wulden related to his father the cruel circumstance, and the
latter hastened directly to the several authorities of the city,
by whom it was immediately determined to send a deputation
to the head-quarters of the Swedes, and endeavour to pro-
cure, if not a remission, at least an alleviation of the punish-
ment, proffering, at the same time, a liberal ransom for the
life of the accused.

Wallenstein heard all this with some pleasure, inasmuch as
it testified the universal respect wherein Joanna was held ;
but that the Swedes would give up their victim voluntarily, he
never for one instant believed. What then was to be done ?

236 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

The first and most necessary point was to inform himself
of the situation of her prison, of its security, and the pos-
sibility of penetrating it. And he resolved, moreover, that
he would attempt this enterprise alone. He was well aware
of its difficulty and danger, and thought, on further con-
sideration, that he had no right to bring into hazard the life of
any of his generous friends.

He determined, therefore, to disguise himself in the costume
of a trading Israelite ; which sufficiently concealed the identity
of his person. Thus, alone, and with a bundle on his back,
under whose light weight he bent in order to conceal his walk
and figure, he wandered through the gate, and, crossing the
Moldavia, reached the Kleinseite without adventure.

He arrived without hindrance at the road called theBruska,
which his uncle had constructed through the rocks of Hrad-
schin, in order to have a near and commanding ascent up to
the Castle-Hill. The road winds up the heights, and, on the
left hand, a side-path leads to the summit in another direc-
tion. This latter is the ancient " Castle staircase," and VVal-
lenstein observed that many persons proceeded by this route,
and, with palpitating heart, Albert followed. Here, where
the ancient royal custle, towering upon the long-extended
back of the Hradschin, overlooked to a great distance the
country around, the height sinks abruptly downward, and
forms, from the north side of the castle, a nearly unscaleable
chasm, which is termed the Hirsch-graben. A bridge leads
across it into the castle ; and two high towers, even yet in
good repair, styled the black and white, rise from the moat,
leaning against the high castle- walls, and serving in earlier
times as a fortification, but latterly as dungeons for the im-
prisonment of criminals. It was here that Joanna, as soon as
the examination took a more serious turn, had been con-
fined, as was now, for the first time, understood by Wal-
lenstein.

He reached the moat, and the information afforded by the
by- slanders soon made him acquainted with the window at

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 237

which the sweet girl occasionally, as they told him, showed
herself.

Her appearance was even now expected behind the bars,
but she did not appear. Wallenstein, however, minutely
examined the tower, the window, and the whole of the various
parts appertaining to that section of the castle, observing
where the sentinels were stationed, and where the wall might
be most easily scaled. He then stole into the castle with his
wares, hoping to extract from the inmates and guards further
intelligence, and bent on making as good a survey as possible
of the interior of the tower and its structure.

Mid-day was gone by, and his friends had been making
various speculations as to his long absence, when our hero,
having thrown aside his disguise, re-entered his house. In
these speculations Leopold did not join ; for his secret feel-
ings dictated to him where Albert had been, and on what
errand. The two friends met on the threshold, and one
glance at the perturbed countenance of Wallenstein ren-
dered all clear. " And you would keep your expedition a
secret from me!" crifd Wulden ; " You really think I will
leave you to go through the danger alone !"

" Dear Leopold !" interposed the other.

" Is this fair ?" continued the former, reproachfully ; " Is it
friendly ?"

Wallenstein caught his companion's hand. " Pardon me,"
exclaimed he ; " by Heaven, it was no reservedness ! Why
are you to venture arid surfer for my sake ?"

" And should I suffer less, knowing you to be absent, in
danger ? Did you not promise this morning, in the garden,
that I should share it with you ?"

" My generous friend ! you shall know all." And, com-
municating every thing that he had heard and observed, Albert
proceeded to debate with him on the most eligible plan for
further measures.

238 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

CHAPTER XXI.

As the reader will have observed, Helen's position toward her
betrothed was far from being the same as at a former period,
when stolen interviews, under the veil of night and secrecy,
only allowed her to cast, at times, a few looks into the heart
of her friend. All this romance gradually wore away upon
more frequent intercourse ; and unpleasant scenes, such as
that respecting Wallenstein's mantle, often took place. It is
true, peace was as often restored ; but the discord which had
been struck, not from accidental occurrences, but from a lead-
ing difference of character, was never thoroughly set right.

Wallenstein's image occasionally floated upon her mind,
and doomed her to the agony of remorse. His name was on
every lip, his praises in every heart ; nor could the prepara-
tions for the wedding, albeit they diverted for awhile her
increasing melancholy, by any means dispel it. The story
of Joanna caused these unwelcome feelings to expand with
fresh vigour, and lent new zest to her growing distrust
of Odowalsky. That Albert had once warmly loved her,
was certain ; it was probable that some remains of this
passion still lingered within his bosom. A serious attach-
ment, on his part, toward the gardener's daughter she could
not credit, feeling certain that the nephew of the Duke of
Friedland would never so tar forget his lineage and station.
Still, solicitude for her fate would, doubtless, actuate him
powerfully, and stimulate his exertions ; and whoever should
be instrumental in effecting her deliverance, would acquire a
right to his warmest gratitude, especially were hazard and
difficulty to be experienced.

She at last formed a fixed plan on the subject. She was
determined to rescue the daughter of Bertram, to conceal her
in a safe spot, and to inform her lord of this by a sure way j
and, when either peace, or the capture of the city, should com-

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 239

promise every affair of this nature, (hen would she, as a wel-
come gift, present to Wallenstein his rescued dependent.

She learnt that her prison was in the white-tower, and suc-
ceeded in making herself known to the jailor by means of a
trusty attendant and messenger, to whom the jailor's wife was
related. The watch was not very strict ; and if, instead of
Joanna, some resolute man had been imprisoned there, he
might readily have effected his escape. Disguises and horses
were secretly procured -} and on the same day whereon Wal-
lenstein had passed so many hours in making preparations
for the enterprise of the following night, Helen was also oc-
cupied with arrangements for her plan for the accomplish-
ment of the same object.

The sun of a cheerful summer's day had descended, and
twilight spread its shades over the city. The hapless Joanna
beheld the near approach of the termination of her short ex-
istence. Her execution was fixed for the next morning. She
felt the completes! consciousness of her innocence, but also
the fullest conviction that nothing could save her, as the exer-
tions of several persons of rank in the Kleinseite, nay, the in-
terest of the Governor-General himself, had been to no purpose.

Two points, however, there were, which still continued to
discompose her : first, the natural distress of her father, whose
heart-rending sorrow, when, after long prohibition, he was at
length permitted to visit the adjudged victim, unhinged her
soul, and made her painfully doubt how far she had been jus-
tified in subjecting him thereto j and secondly, the remem-
brance of Wallenstein, which she sought in vain to repress.
Of what nature would his emotion be, when he heard of her
doom ? — Would he make any effort to rescue or even to see
her ? — How frequently, during this last night of her earthly
existence, when she would have collected her thoughts, and
directed them to that Power before whose throne she was soon
to stand, did she suprise herself in recollections of quite a dif-
ferent nature! She beheld before her his beloved form, she
heard the cherished tones of his voice !

240 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

Thus passed the hours, even quicker than Joanna had hoped ;
and, as night approached, the jailor's wife brought her even-
ing meal, which, since she had been sentenced to death, had
been supplied in plenty and delicacy. At the same time she
lighted the lamp, and the prisoner having partaken of some
refreshment, the woman disappeared with her provision basket,
having extinguished the lamp, and darkness and silence again
reigned around Joanna.

The bell in the tower of St.Veit announced the mid-night
hour, when the prisoner was roused by a slight rustling with-
out, under the casement of her prison. It soon became pal-
pable, and apparently ascended higher and higher.

She listened in breathless anxiety, until, at length, she
fancied she saw a figure move outside the bars of the casement.
Directly afterward, a soft voice pronounced her name.

"Gracious heaven! what does this mean?" muttered
Joanna. " Can it be possible that a rescue is at hand ? Should
my father" and she thought of some one else.

Just at that moment the voice repeated, somewhat louder :
" Joanna ! are you there r" It was not her father's voice —

it was but oh ! the mingled hope and joy kept her

mute, and answer she could not, it was the voice of her
noble Lord !

On a third adjuration, however, she gathered energy to
reply; and a brief suppressed explanation ensued. Wallenstein,
then, was near her, — was come to liberate her. Wallenstein !
the idol of her dreams ! the man for whose sake chiefly she
had staked her life, and was on the point of losing it upon the
scaffold ! He came to return the service, by rescuing that
life at the hazard of his own.

The hollow sounds of blows levelled at the bars now alone
broke the stillness. Joanna sank upon her knees, and stretch-
ing her arms toward heaven, prayed for a blessing upon him,
prayed for his happiness, which was linked with her own,
whatever shape her future fate might take. In this frame of
mind she continued kneeling, and offering up prayers to God,

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 241

until again roused by the voice of her deliverer, who, as some
loosened stones rolled \vithinside the apartment, besought her
to take care and keep out of their way.

Joanna now became active and useful, and, as if instinct-
ively, pushed the table against the wall, placed the two chairs,
mounted, and with joyful amazement did Wallenstein soon
behold her immediately opposite him behind the bars. She
pointed out to Albert the despoiled parts of the wall, and the
places in which the bars were fixed most loosely ; but it
seemed to her as if, since she stood up there, Wallenstein
worked with less industry, as if his looks were more fre-
quently directed towards her than his crow-bar, and as if his
companion (of whom she now first became aware) was forced
to accomplish the most.

At length, the bars gave way, the window was opened, and
Wallenstein presented Joanna his hand, begging her en-
couragingly not to be afraid, for he would bring her safely
down. Inwardly, but fervently, thanking the deity, she
sprang forward, slipped through, and was received in Wal-
lenstein's arms.

When arrived at the bottom, Wallenstein threw over the
rescued maid a Swedish horseman's cloak. Leopold pre-
sented her a cap of corresponding character ; and it was now
she observed, that both men were attired in the cavalry uni-
form of the enemy.

All this was the work of a few moments. The youths
guided Joanna, trembling with joy and anxiety, down to the
shore, where there was a boat in waiting for them.

The strength and resolution which, during the business of
her liberation, had upheld our heroine, abandoned her when
nearly in safety. But as they glided over the face of the
water, recollection returned, and with an intense conscious-
ness of what Wallenslein had done for her, she slid from off
the bench upon which he was supporting her in the boat,
to his feet, striving (though almost incapable of speech) to

242 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE j

thank him for his exertion and hazard. In vain, for
some time, did the latter endeavour to raise and re-assure
her. —

Wulden, during this scene, had, \vith his customary acute-
ness and consideration, kept aloof, and engaged the boatman
in conversation, to draw off his attention likewise ; but as
soon as Joanna had been persuaded to resume her seat, Albert
called him forward, and the friends learnt from their fair com-
panion how she had lived whilst in confinement ; how she
had gained information of the attack upon the bridge-tower ;
her meeting with Count Martinitz ; her capture, examination,
and other circumstances.

Thus engaged, the long course down the Moldavia seemed
to occupy but little time, and Wallenstein started up astonished,
as, far below the city, the boat put to shore, and the trees
became visible under which Wulden had ordered his groom
to wait with three saddled horses. They found every thing
in readiness, and upon one horse a packet containing three
mantles of that description usually worn by Bohemian bour-
geois. Each of the youths immediately threw one of these
over his Swedish uniform, which it completely concealed, and
directed Joanna to follow their example.

This done, Wallenstein assisted Joanna to mount her horse,
and, as they proceeded at a pretty quick pace, informed her of
the plan he and Wulden had laid down for her safety. Being
forced to return rapidly to I'rague, they could not therefore
accompany Joanna far, and had, on that account, resolved to
conduct her to an unmarried aunt of Leopold's, in the vicinity
ofKaurzim, who was prepared for their arrival.

" Yet, notwithstanding this," cried Wulden, gaily, " I
would lay any wager my worthy relative thinks that Joanna
and I are playing the hero and heroine of a romance."

" Well, a romance it certainly is," answered Albert.

" True," rejoined his friend, " but for the hero we must
look elsewhere."

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 243

" But," said Joanna timidly, " as you cannot have had any
reply to your communication, may not my visit be possibly
unwelcome ? — I fear — "

" Fear nothing," interrupted the ardent Leopold : " I know
my aunt well, who is, contrary to the usual custom of old
maids, the best creature in the world, and particularly fond of
having any hand in an adventure."

" You will remain with the Lady Theresa von Wulden,"
said Albert, " until the roads are free from the Swedes (who
have now turned toward the parts of Tabor and Budweis),
when I shall probably have you conducted to my relation, the
Countess Harrach, at Vienna."

" I acknowledge the advantage and kind precaution which
you plan implies, my Lord !" replied Joanna. " Permit me
only to ask one question : — what will be done with regard to
my father ?''

" Your question is reasonable," answered Wallensteiu :
" for awhile the good old man must remain in doubt as to
the details of your fate. But when he learns, to-morrow, that
you have escaped, I hope that this certainty of your deliver-
ance will put him at ease on the other score ; — and sub-
sequently "

"My Lord!" interrupted Joanna, " my father is not in
Prague — he will learn nothing to-morrow."

" Not in Prague ?" cried Albert : " where is he then ?"

" That I know not," returned Joanna ; " he sent to inform
me by a confidential person a few days since, that he could
not be a witness of my death, and was going to try an extreme
chance"

" Of what ?" interrupted Wulden, hastily.

" That is as little known to me," replied she, " as whither
he is gone. But on account of this very uncertainty I feel
impelled to entreat — "

" I understand you, Joanna," said Wallenstein, kindly :
" but for the present nobody — not even he — must knowic/jere
you are. His joy might betray the secret. But this I pro-

y 2

244 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

mise you, — be shall, as soon as I can possibly find means of
furnishing him with the intelligence, learn that you are in
safety."

Joanna bowed her head, and said no more.

Leopold now observed — " This conversation induces us to
ride too slowly. Remember, the Swedes may be at our heels,
and it would be well, therefore,, to spur on." They did so,
and flew — each wrapped in the veil of some peculiar train of
thought — across the plain.

They were not far distant from the termination of their
journey, when day began to dawn in the east, and gave to
view the outlines of surrounding objects, while the morning-
star beamed on them from the left. They now left the high
road for a side- path.

" The morning- star shows us the way/' said Wallenstein,
raising his eye sadly toward it, as thought of the approaching
separation fell heavy upon his heart. They now perceived at
a distance the grey walls of the castle, which was situated on
the summit of a little hill. They soon reached it, and being
admitted, the riders sprang into the court. An aged female
attendant now appeared with the information that her noble
lady was sleeping; but that she had orders to receive Baron
Wulden and his company.

Albert assisted Joanna to dismount, who, through the ex-
ertion of the ride and her own anxiety united, was almost
worn out. " Pray," said Albert, turning to Leopold, " pro-
cure some refreshment for our companion; she is nigh
fainting."

Wulden gave directions to the attendant (who had been
measuring and examining the supposed lad with curious looks,
and now heard astonished, that a female form was concealed
by the ample riding cloak), and entered himself the interior
of the building, leaving Wallenstein and Joanna in the hall.

He soon returned, aud brought a message of much courtesy
from his aunt, who promised to use the greatest caution to
ensure Joanna's safety. Another female domestic followed

OR; THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 245

him, stating that every thing was in readiness for the lady's
accommodation, and the parting moment had arrived. Joanna,
collecting all her strength, raised herself from the seat, made a
respectful obeisance to her youthful Lord, who returned her
farewell with repressed ardour, and only adding, in a broken
voice, "Greet my father!" vanished intothecastlewithher guide.

The young men now mounted their steeds, and rode at a
very swift pace into the open country. The towers of Prague
had grown upon their view, before Wallenstein's abstraction
(which his friend did not choose to interrupt) gave way.
He now checked his horse, and stretching out his hand to
Wulden, said: "How shall I thank you, my dear friend, for
what you have done for me this night?" —

" By saying no more about it," replied the frank-hearted
young man. " It is enough for me, that our expedition has
succeeded; that the heroic girl is safe ; and that your heart
has recovered its serenity."

"Alas !" answered Wallenstein, with a mournful smile,
" that is not so. Never again shall I be light of heart. This
poor young woman has been preserved from a cruel, unmerited

death, but not from a fatal passion. She loves me,

Leopold ! I have unhappily excited in the bosom of one to
whom reciprocity of affection would be madness, a flame
which consumes her, and has communicated itself to me. I
have sought long to hide from my heart the consciousness of
this truth — but it is forced upon me !"

Wulden was touched to the quick. His nature, although
volatile, was capable of the truest feeling and the nicest de-
licacy j and feeling for his friend's situation, he utterly forbore
from all attempt at raillery.

CHAPTER XXII.

ON re-entering the city, the friends beheld with surprise, the
populace, as well as the garrison, in lively activity upon the

Y3

246 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ',

Avails — as also round the gates. Now, as the enemy was dis-
tant, and no immediate danger to be anticipated, these appear-
ances looked very singular. The young men hastened, Wul-
den to his father, and Wallenstein to Plachy, in order to ease
hoth of all anxiety. They learnt then, the occasion, and
necessity of the increased activity alluded to. Bad news had
arrived. General Wiirtemberg, it was reported, had overtaken
and beaten Buchheirn, and therefore General Conti considered
it his duty to put himself and the garrison in the greatest ac-
tivity.

Albert and Leopold betook themselves to their posts, and
were soon in the thick of business. Every thing went on
spiritedly ; and, in a few days, the fortifications were in
such forward progress, that the advance of the Swedish
force under Wiirtemberg might be awaited with tolerable
confidence.

Wallenstein, under these circumstances, found abundant
occupation to divert his mind from thoughts of Joanna. He
disclosed her retreat to no one, and thereby cut himself off
from all chance of receiving intelligence respecting her welfare;
and as to either he or Leopold leaving the garrison, even for a
single day, it was not to be thought of.

Meanwhile Wiirtemberg, contrary to expectation, engaged
himself with the siege of Tabor ; and this event rendered the
communication between Prague and the adjacent country more
free. Hence, to his surprise, Wallenstein one morning re-
ceived a visit in his tower from the old Baron von Zelstow,
who embraced him with true paternal joy, and made him
relate circumstantially all that had happened to him and the
town. Tin's account finished, Wallenstein enquired, in return,
how it had gone with his friends at Troy ?

" Alas ! bad, nephew, bad !" answered the old man ; "For
awhile, we were almost harassed to death j but, thank God !
we are, for the present, at least, freed from our persecutors."

" How so ? Have the Swedes retired also on that side ?"

" Not exactly ; fait our party has withdrawn itself."

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 24/"

" What ! is the Colonel no longer at Troy ? How comes
that?"

"Many things have occurred; — and affairs stand not now
as they did some weeks ago. You, of course, know of the
matter respecting your steward's daughter."

" Yes, indeed !" replied Wallenstein, somewhat startled ;
"' she was to have been executed :" —

" Ay ! they did indeed meditate that most shameful act of
injustice ; and Colonel Streitberg was foremost in urging its
completion. It was this which irritated my niece; they quar-
relled several times about it ; and Helen at length determined
to free the unfortunate girl from the fate that awaited her."

" Helen !" exclaimed Wallenstein ; "She determine to act
in direct and public opposition to her betrothed ?"

" Not public ! The whole was arranged privately. But, it
seems, her effort was made too late."

"Too late !" repeated Albert, affecting great surprise : —

" Even so : when the jailer, who had been bribed by Helen,
unlocked the prison- door, and was going to lead out the girl,
he did not find her, though he found, both at the window and
the walls, marks of a forcible entrance."

" But the tower is thence very high and steep :" —

" True : — it could not have been an easy enterprise. Who*
ever liberated her, ventured his neck :" —

" I heard, and gladly, that the girl had vanished, but
nobody could tell me how."

Wallenstein paused ; and the Baron resumed : " This dis-
appointment in her expedition grieved my niece sadly j for
she told me (to whom she confided the whole affair) that she
had undertaken it principally on your account."

" On my account !" exclaimed Albert, now really asto-
nished, and looking incredulous.

" Yes : — I can assure you," added the Baron, smiling,
" that there seems a considerable revolution in the young
lady's heart. The deliverer of the Old-Town and the heroic

248 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

defender of the bridge-tower, appears to the high-souled
' Helen of Troy' in a very glorious light."

To Wallenstein, the communication, so far from being
agreeable, was decidedly the reverse. "He can assure me!"

thought our hero ; — "What! is this then a message?

And does she imagine me so frail as to be thus lightly caught
again ?"

The loquacious Baron, finding Albert maintained silence,
and conceiving that still plainer speaking was advisable, went
rambling on, when the latter interrupted him by abruptly asking,
— " And are these greetings and this late attempt to rescne
the Bohemian victim, known to the lady's betrothed?"

" Why, not to him, certainly. How can you ask such a
question ? Besides, he is no longer in Prague."

"Not in Prague! No doubt, then, busied in scenting out
the track of the intended sacrifice to his passion of revenge?''

" No: he seems to have abandoned that project; but not
so Konigsmark, which is very strange. The same night that
the maiden escaped, came a courier from Leipsic, ordering the
execution to be suspended ; and when it was told the Field-
Marshal that at any rate it could not have taken place, as the
criminal had vanished, he is said to have been quite frantic,
and to have made search for her every where. Her father is
with him in Leipsic."

" What ! Bertram !" cried Wallenstein, excited to the ut-
most by this information ; " Bertram with Konigsmark? And
Konigsmark intent upon finding the maiden — although anxious,
before her examination, to get out of the way ! — What does all
this mean ? It seems inconceivable."

" It did so to Odowalsky. He was latterly in the worst of
humours, as he showed to every body, not even excepting his
betrothed. In fact, the prospect of this ill-assorted connexion
looks altogether unhappy : and I was heartily glad when I
saw the Colonel's preparations to be off."

" But has he left at his own instance, or by command?"

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 249

"I incline to think the former," replied Von Zelstow :
" I tell you, Albert, matters do not stand between this couple
as they ought to do between betrothed parties, arid I guess
that you are in part the cause."

They were now interrupted, and YVallenstein was obliged
to proceed down the intrenchments on the Moldavia shore, ac-
companied by the Baron, who examined with interest, as an
old soldier, the completed labours. He then parted from Wai.
lenstein, with the promise of repeating his visits so long as the
town remained free of access.

What some days before had been feared, — the return of the
troops under VViirtemberg before Prague, — took place but too
soon, and was preceded by the melancholy news of the storm-
ing of the city of Tabor, within whose walls, still strong from
their origin in the period of the Hussites, many noble families
and inhabitants of the surrounding country had deposited their
best treasures and effects, and which, on that very account,
presented allurement to the rapacious enemy.

Shortly after this discouraging event was, as a certainty,
known in Prague, the colours and ensigns of the Swedes were
observed one morning, by the sentinels stationed upon the
Klein — and Heinrichs — towers, waving at a distance behind the
hills which surround the Bohemian capital. In a couple of
hours afterward, the van-guard of the Swedes was perceived
advancing, divided into parties, upon the adjacent heights j
and thus every thing around Prague again wore that melan-
choly aspect of constraint and privation which it had so re-
cently thrown off. Wiirtemberg found the walls and garrison
in a proper defensible state, and acknowledged that the taking
of the city would, owing to the works which his absence had
allowed the citizens to effect, be extremely difficult. Still he
hoped for the arrival of the Palatine, who was expected very
shortly, and then it was resolved to attack Prague at once from
every side with such violence as to make it impossible for the
garrison, which was in almost total want of artillery, to hold
out long.

250 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

This then was the moment for serious combat and defence!
Before each gate of Prague another corps was stationed. The
Palatine at the New-gate, — Konigsmark to the left in the
vineyards, — and Wiirtemberg before the Wissehrader and
Ross-Gate.

The Praguese maintained themselves heroically ; they even
made several sallies, in which they did considerable hurt to the
enemy, though their own danger increased with each day, for
already the walls were in several parts in ashes, and the towers
razed. Greatly incensed at the obstinacy of the besieged, who
ventured to oppose themselves to his heroic course, and detain
him so long before a city, the taking of which vanity and the
flattery of others had painted to him as easy, the Palatine bore
this unexpected opposition with great impatience. In order to
cheer and divert him, his adjutants and courtiers proposed ex-
cursions to the adjacent castles of the nobility, whenever any
day of repose occurred to the besieging forces ; among the first
of these was the Castle of Troy. Here the Swedes believed
themselves more welcome than anywhere else; for here dwelt
the betrothed of one of their most distinguished officers ; and
in that house, where he who had delivered over Prague into
their hands, was already looked upon as a nephew, — as a
member of the family, — his prince might not only reckon
upon a dutiful and honorable, but also upon a joyful re-
ception.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE autumnal day was cool and overcast, and Helen wan-
dered full of thought along the walls of the garden, where now
neither flowers nor fruit smilingly met her gaze, but every
where around were traces of change — of decline. Her soul,
like the images surrounding her, was gloomy and grave. She
thought of that time when nature glowed in the warm sun-

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 251

shine of summer, — when hope, apparently well grounded,
opened to her the prospect of a brilliant future. What had
become of all these proud expectations ?

Odowalsky's plan had only half succeeded ; each attempt
to effectuate it, had hitherto foundered. His credit with the
Swedes had sunk ; there was no longer any thinking of a
suitable reward for his services, and still less of those pros-
pects of influence, honour, and power, which had formerly
animated him, and driven him to the dubious enterprise.
These disappointments had still more incensed an already
embittered mind : his mood was dark, his behaviour rough,
and, what shocked her nearly as much, almost vulgar.

" He has changed !" — thus she closed her solitary reflec-
tions : — "Either the destruction of his hopes has produced a
complete revolution within him, or he deceived me at the
first, and acted a character foreign to his own. And am I,
then, under such circumstances, bound to keep the faith which
I vowed? Yet," continued she, as these sophisms passed
through her mind, " he loves me ; his passion is all that has
remained firm in the great ruin. He loves me truly. Dare
1 forsake him ? But does my heart, and its wishes, claim no
consideration ? That which Odowalsky appeared, Wallen-
stein is in reality, noble, courageous, distinguished, merito-
rious. He loved me j and I, fool ! mistook him !"

At that moment, a sound as of horses hoofs approaching,
reached her. " Should it be Odowalsky ?" thought she ; "Is
he already returning ?" This idea scared away her reviving
serenity ; and, in order to collect herself a little, and to avoid
him, she quickly retired from the garden-gate, near which
she had stood, back along the walks, and ascended the steps
of the castle. She now perceived the troop, which had al-
ready gained the gate, and at that moment, she recognised the
prince himself, who had just then swung from his prancing
steed.

Gustavus was of the middle height, slim, and delicately
formed ; fiery black eyes and an aquiline nose, gave to hi '

252 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

features a noble and imposing expression, and with that
confidence which the sense of their importance gives the great
and powerful, he advanced along the garden. As soon
as Helen had convinced herself who it was, and that he was
coming to the castle, she hurried back through the saloon
into her uncle's apartment, and roused him rather abruptly,
with the information, from a quiet afternoon's nap.

Hurrying on a robe of state over his household costume,
he hastened, attended by a couple of his servants, to receive
the prince, who had, by this time, reached the foot of the
steps, and in whose manner some little displeasure began to
shew itself, at no person's having advanced to meet him, even
the female figure, which he had well perceived on the steps,
having vanished.

The Baron excused his late appearance as best he might,
and the prince smiled graciously, assuring him of having
heard so much of the beauty of the castle and its gardens, that
he was desirous of convincing himself ; particularly as he
conceived it a point of duty, he somewhat uncourteously
added, to make himself acquainted as much as possible with
the fine country which he now, as victor, might regard as
his own.

Baron von Zelstow merely replied with a bow to expres-
sions which brought in their train so much food for biiter
thought; and the prince, who now advanced to the saloon,
examined and admired the beautiful structure, and its noble
style. After having viewed from the windows the situation
of the castle, he suddenly turned to its lord, and said, " You
are not alone, i presume, Baron, in this extensive mansion ?
you have a family ?"

" No children, so please your highness ; but my wife and
my relations will, ere long, have the honour of presenting
themselves." He, herewith, dispatched a servant to fetch the
Baroness. This, however, the prince would not allow.
" We will visit her," said he, graciously ; " have the kindness
to lead the wav, Baron."

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 253

Thus proceeding through the adjoining apartments, he was
met in one of them by the Baroness, Madame de Berka, and
Helen. The prince greeted the ladies with much politeness,
but astonishment and pleasure were both expressed in his
manner as his eye fell upon Helen, and he remained a mo-
ment without uttering a word.

"This doubtless is the lady who, I hear, is betrothed?"
said he, with a friendly smile j and as Baroness von Zelstow
confirmed his supposition, he added ; " Then, lovely lady, I
may regard you as one of our party, and am proud to be able
to do so."

Helen replied to this flattery politely, but with feelings
quite different from those she would have entertained two
months before.

"You will perhaps be angry with me," pursued Gustavus,
in a jocular tone, "for having taking your Intended from your
side, and ordered him away to capture a fortification."

" It was the Colonel's wish," replied Helen, "to distin-
guish himself in your highness's eyes ; and the sooner he finds
opportunity to do so, the more welcome it must be to him."

" It is true," replied the prince ; " he offered himself, and
/ at least, should do wrong, were I not to praise him for that
real which overbalances even his fondness for an object, whose
loveliness were sufficient almost to excuse the neglect of
actual duty."

In this courtly tone the conversation continued for some
time. At length, Gustavus rose, and when, at last, he took
leave, he did not wait for any invitation from the Baron to
repeat his visit, but declared, as upon mounting, he reached
out his hand, that he should come again shortly.

This excursion had thus answered the purpose of amusing
his highness, in a degree which had not been foreseen. He
returned in the best of humours, and touched upon the sub-
ject of his visit as often as the zeal with which he carried on
the siege of the city would allow.

The prince's attention to the beautiful lady at the castle of

254 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

Troy had not escaped the observations of his suite ; his fre-
quent subsequent visits confirmed their speculations ; and
Helen was unconsciously soon held throughout head-quarters
as the declared favourite of the young, lively Palatine. Helen
was ambitious of pleasing : but she was proud ; and as her
reason told her she could never entertain a hope of being law-
fully united to a prince, whose pretensions to the throne of
Sweden, perhaps to the hand of the unmarried Christiana,
removed such an idea altogether, she confined herself, with
discretion and dignity, within the limits assigned her by fate,
and met the prince in a manner which was meant to shew
him that she was quite aware of all these circumstances.

Charles Gustavus felt the pride and justice of Helen's be-
haviour, but it increased his incipient passion, and after awhile,
he changed his method : he was no longer the careless, mighty
suitor, revelling in proud assurance of a happy result, but the
attentive, courteous knight, with whom every thing depended
upon winning and maintaining the favour of his lady.

The castle Tetschen on the Elbe had meanwhile yielded to
the united exertions of Colonels Coppy and Odovvalsky. The
navigation of thai river was now open, and all which the
Swedes had plundered in Prague, Tabor, and other parts,
could be dispatched uninterrupted down the stream out of the
country. During this interval, the Palatine was paying his
addresses to the lovely Helen.

Without knowing, or even suspecting this, Odowalsky
pressed on the conclusion of their affairs in the neighbour-
hood of Tetschen, and their return to Prague. Out of hu-
mour, and sunk in a chaos of gloomy thoughts, he was sit-
ting one morning upon a block of stone on the shore of the
Elbe, and gazing at the bustling of his soldiers, who were
occupied in getting sundry chests and bales on board the
Elbe-ships. His fate, from the commencement of his career ;
his position toward his liege prince and his native country,
toward the Swedes, toward Helen, all passed before his fancy
in melancholy array.

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 255

While ruminating these unpleasant subjects, he heard his
name called, and turning round, perceived Colonel Coppy.

" You must give me credit for following up your wishes,"
said the Colonel j "I have made such arrangements as will
enable us to start to-morrow for Prague."

Odowalsky stated his satisfaction at receiving this intelli-
gence, ancj led a conversation respecting the chances of the
eventual capture of that city, expressing his discontent at not
having yet received the promotion that had been promised
him, much of which he attributed to the uniform hostility of
Konigsmark.

" By the bye, talking of Konigsmark," interrupted Coppy,
" is it not strange that you had no sooner discontinued the
pursuit of that culprit-girl who fired the rocket, than he took
it up. The circumstances, as they have reached my ear, are
curious enough."

" Indeed ? — pray explain them."

" I know not if I can ; but I will, at all events, make you
as wise as myself. It is said, then, that one morning at
Leipsic, when the General had just returned from a visit to
Gustavus, he was informed that a citizen of Prague had been
awaiting him with the utmost anxiety for two hours. The
Count desired that he should be admitted, when in stepped an
aged, respectable- looking man. Konigsmark inquired his
name, which he gave as that of the father of the delinquent.
The General, upon this, was about to dismiss him hastily,
with an intimation that ' the affair did not concern him —
he had given it over to the Count de la Garde.' But the old
man desisted not ; and at length implored a private audience of
Konigsmark, and cried with the greatest emotion, ' Oh, my
Lord, I beseech you at least to look on this !' at the same
moment drawing from his breast a golden case which he pre-
sented to the Count, who, astonished, opened it, changed
colour, and exclaiming, in an agitated tone, ' Come in here!'
stepped into the cabinet, and locked the door on himself and
the old man. That very hour a courier was dispatched to

z2

256 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

Prague, with orders to suspend the execution ; and subse-
quently the very strictest search has been made for the girl by
Konigsmark's orders.*'

" And do you credit this trumpery story about a mysterious
picture >" said Odowalsky. " But I care not with what
motive he pursues the girl. I have ceased to feel any excite-
ment about her, and will not suffer my dormant interest
to be revived by the incoherent fantasies of a man whom I
detest."

The comrades now separated, and before the next dawn all
the troops were in motion, and on the second day of their
march they arrived, greatly fatigued, at the Kleinseite of
Prague.

On the evening of his arrival, Odowalsky, as the dusky shades
fell around, entered an apartment of the royal palace, which
the officers had converted into a better kind of suttler-tent,
where they usually recreated themselves with games at cards
or dice, and enjoyed the merry glass.

It was half-dark, no lights having as yet been brought, and
the person of the stranger could not easily be recognized.
Odowalsky threw himself upon a bench in a corner, and order-
ing wine, followed the bent of his thoughts. While thus
occupied, his ear caught the fragments of a dialogue between
a couple of officers, which quickly roused every vital principle
within him, for they were conversing about the visits of the
Prince to Troy. Odowalsky listened for awhile half*incre-
dulous ; at length he sprang up, and demanded in an angry
tone, whether what they had been stating might be relied on ?
The officers answered affirmatively, repeated what had passed,
and persisted in their assertion. The discourse grew warm,
several other officers gradually joined the party, candles were
brought and placed in the chandeliers, and in the person of
the stranger was recognised Odowalsky, upon which all
united in commisserating him, at the same time maliciously
adding to the intelligence already given.

The Colonel was completely overwhelmed. The mere sus-

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 257

picion of what had been thus openly averred was indeed
enough to distract him. He was about to proceed to Troy
that very evening, but the gates of the Kleinseite were closed,
and he was forced to watch through the night burthened with
pain and jealousy.

On the folio wing morning, duty called both him and Colonel
Coppy into the presence of the Palatine. They were received
by his Highness in a very friendly manner, but scarcely could
Odowalsky's sense of duty and subordination control the
tempest within him ; and when Gustavus told him, with a
gracious smile, of his having made the acquaintance of his
lovely betrothed, wishing him joy of her possession, his eye
flashed, and it was only with the greatest exertion he could
forbear from breaking all measures by giving a loose to
sarcasm.

Irritated at these indications, the Palatine only said a few
more short words respecting the service, and dismissed both
Colonels with a sign of the hand, turning his back upon them
before they had even reached the door.

" What has come to Charles Gustavus so suddenly ?" in-
quired Coppy, as soon as they had reached the stairs. — " And
you too !" he continued : " in what a singular way you re-
ceived the Prince's congratulations !"

" As a man of honour ought to receive even a Prince's
insult, which subordination forbids him to revenge by his
sword." —

" Insult ! revenge! — 1 do not understand you."

" That is often your case," replied Odowalsky. " Be it
enough, I felt obliged to act as I have donej — farewell;''
and returning home, he immediately ordered his steed to be
saddled in order to gallop off to Troy.

When mounted at last, he galloped down the hill toward
the bridge near Lieban, and halting before the castle-gate, in
an incredibly short space of time, flew through the garden and
up the steps, and was standing in the saloon of Troy before
Helen even suspected his arrival at Prague. Odowalsky's
z3

258 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

entire appearance announced a hovering tempest. With dark
looks he stood before her, his hat still remaining on his head,
his arms crossed under his cloak and pressed firmly and closely
to his breast, and his dark flaming eyes fixed upon her's.

Helen, dropping the arms which had been opened to receive
him, retreated some paces, and said : " What ails you,
Ernest ? Is it thus you meet your betrothed, after so long a
separation ?"

" My betrothed !" exclaimed he, in a wild and mocking
tone ; " Say rather the betrothed of Satan ! Faithless
creature !"

At this burst of injurious passion Helen's blood began also
to boil, but just then, there arose within her a conscious-
ness of secret guilt. She thought on Wallenstetn ; and fear-
ing that Odowalsky might have heard of her message to that
nobleman through her uncle, attributed to such a circumstance
the present stormy interview. She turned pale, and Odo-
walsky seeing this change of countenance, and, strengthened
in his suspicion, advanced with fury toward her, seized her
by the arm with such force as made her totter, and exclaimed
in a voice choked by passion : "You dare not deny it ! Your
terror has betrayed you. Do not believe that I come here to
call you back to your duty ! No ! The mistress of another,
even though he be a Prince, and my future sovereign, is in
my eyes" —

" Hold J" cried Helen, to whom these words unfolded the
error, and, at the same time, the debasing suspicion of her
lover j " Hold, madman !" cried she, the colour flying back
into her cheeks — " and dare not to renew your slander ! — I
defy you to the proof, and I scorn alike your imputation and
yourself!" So saying, she wrested her arm from his grasp,
and turned, in order to leave the room. He, however, followed
her, and with lips quivering with passion, said, " Stand, un-
happy creature, and justify yourself, if you wish not this agony
to kill me before your eyes !" —

The peculiarity of her position, both as regarded Odowalsky

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 259

and Wallenstein, distracted Helen's thoughts ; and the
anguished countenance of the former, checked the tide of
her indignation. "Helen!" at length resumed the Colonel,
in a subdued tone, " I conjure you, tell me ! Do you not love
this Palatine ?"

" I never have loved, nor ever shall love him," replied
she, gravely. "1 endure what necessity compels me to
endure. Durst my uncle — durst I — openly offend the
Prince ?"

A ray of hope and consolation shot across Odowalsky's
mind ; but still the deeply- rooted feeling of jealousy was not
overcome : "I am very unhappy," said he ; " oh, pity and
pardon me ! I have often told you, you were my all ? — and,
as disappointment and frustration of my schemes gather round
me, I hug that all still closer to my breast. Swear to me,
Helen, that you have imbibed no feeling of attachment for
Gustavus."

" I swear it," said she, solemnly lifting her hand toward
heaven, and then placing it in Odowalsky's ; " The Prince is
wholly indifferent to me, nor can he boast of having received
the slightest encouragement."

"You have sworn !" cried Odowalsky, drawing his breath
more freely ; " Think of this moment when temptation ap-
proaches 1" and, with softened aspect, he led her toward the
apartments inhabited by the family.

CHAPTER XXIV.

His visit paid, the Colonel returned, with lighter heart, to
Prague. He felt tolerably re-assured respecting the Palatine —
but it was evident, that Helen's inmost heart and soul re-
sponded no longer to his emotions. The silver chain was
loosed — and he could not escape the consciousness that much
of this change had been brought about by himself.

260 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

On reaching head- quarters, he learnt from his comrades,
that next morning a very powerful, and, as was hoped, deci-
sive attack, was projected from two sides : namely, one from
that of the New-Gate, the other from the Wissehrad.

This intelligence excited within him a gloomy feeling of
joy ; it was possible they might at length make an entrance
into the city. At any rate, an opportunity would be afforded
him of giving vent to his embittered feelings by bloodshed,
and he proceeded to make preparations with pleasure.

In Helen, the debasing suspicion which her lover had
formed, and the coarse manner in which he had expressed it,
had excited a very unfavourable impression, which all the con-
viction she felt of the strength of his attachment could not
repair. It was scarce to be expected that, with this growing
knowledge of her lover's disposition, she should sacrifice to
him her whole existence! Unhappiness, by his side, seemed
quite certain ; and a determination of seeking some proper
way by which to separate herself soon and entirely from him,
was ultimately formed.

The low conjecture which Odowalsky had expressed, made
her sensible, however, that the attentions of the Prince had
created a sensation, and had probably become the topic of
discourse in Prague. She was shocked at the possibility of
this, and at the consequences which might follow ; and re-
solved to conduct herself henceforth toward the Prince with so
much dignity and coldness, that he, and all the world, should
be convinced of the strictness of her principles.

An opportunity presented itself on the very same day for
the execution of this design. As already stated, a fresh attack
upon the city had been fixed for the ensuing morning. On
the eve of this great and probably decisive action, the Prince
was anxious once more to bask in the smiles of the fair lady
of Troy j and he hoped that the personal danger and glory he
was prepared to anticipate, would have some effect in softening
the feelings of the high-minded girl. The direct contrary,
however, took place. Never before had Gustavus found her

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 261

so cold, so formal, as to-day ; never before had her manner
toward him been so scrupulous.

He felt this soon, and felt it bitterly. Earlier than vvas his
usual custom, he left the castle.

Gustavus vvas not slow in making his deductions. In the
course of his conversation with Helen, she had mentioned the
return of Odowalsky, whose violent and jealous character was
pretty generally known. The Prince now recollected the
short — nay, almost offensive manner, with which the Colonel
received his friendly mention of Helen ; from that moment he
was no longer an object of favour or grace with the youthful
Palatine.

A single word, or even the suppression of one, is, with re-
lation to princely lips, quickly understood : and this moment
of Gustavus's palpable displeasure was eagerly seized by Odo-
walsky's numerous enemies, to direct his notice toward filling
(from the Colonels of the army) the vacant post of a de-
ceased General.

The desired object was gained : the Prince gave ear to these
whisperings from all sides around him, and signed the paper
which appointed another to the vacant post.

Unacquainted with these occurrences, though sufficiently
out of temper with what had passed, Odowalsky entered, late
in the evening, the gaming saloon. He was invited to join
in the play, but declined, and sat apparently looking on,
though with mind totally abstracted, until he observed the en-
trance of Colonel Coppy.

" You bring news," said he, glancing hastily at the dis-
turbed expression of that officer's countenance, " and un-
welcome news."

" Why," returned Coppy, endeavouring to clear up his
brow, and make the best of a bad matter. " I have just
heard that the General's commission has been this morning
filled up."

"Ay, indeed ! and with whose name ?" inquired the hearer,
his cheek at the same time turning deadly pale.

262 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE

Coppy paused a moment, from an actual feeling of appre-
hension. Odowalsky's eye was fixed, and his lips compressed
so violently, that the blood started from them. " I thought
it right," at length he muttered, "that you should know;"

Odowalsky motioned him — he could not speak — to be

brief : —

" With that of Lilien."

"It is well!" muttered the disappointed leader. "Leave
me for the present, Coppy : I cannot talk to you now ; this
is a time for action /" and 8O saying, he sprang from his
seat.

"What would you do? Whither would you go ?" de-
manded the other, seriously alarmed.

"To the Palatine !" exclaimed Odowalsky, wildly ; " I will
breast the boy ! — I will ask him if he knows how men are to
be treated ?" and scarce knowing or caring what he did, he
penetrated to the antichamber of the Prince's apartments.
Here he was stopped by the guard, and informed that his
Highness had already gone to rest, anxious to be up next
morning with the dawn. "Ay, he reposes on his laurels /"
muttered Odowalsky, with a bitter sneer ; and, turning con-
temptuously away, hastened to his own quarters. " All hell,"
said he to himself, as he entered, " shall be let loose this
night j" and calling his servant, he bade him summon imme-
diately the jailer of the white-tower.

To account for this order, we must apprise our readers that
since the Colonel's last departure from Troy, he had been
casting about in his mind to discover reasons for the mani-
fest change in Helen's behaviour. This he could no longer
attribute to the influence of the Palatine with her ; and his
restless thoughts once more lighted (and with greater justice
than ever before) on Wallenstein. The scene of the cloak
and cap — the interest taken by Helen in Joanna, the Count's
vassal, and other circumstances, struck him with renewed
force. " Can she be implicated in Joanna's escape ?" thought
he j and at once recollected that she had been most inquisitive

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 263

as to the girl's place of confinement, and had even prevailed
on himself to point it out to her. Odowalsky was prone to
jump at conclusions, and he did so in the present instance.

The jailer arrived. Odowalsky rushed toward him, and,
seizing him by the collar, exclaimed, " Confess, villain !
What sum did the lady at the castle of Troy offer you for
letting the girl escape who was to have been beheaded?"

"Me!" stammered the man ; "I know nothing of her
escape."

"Fellow!" cried Odowalsky, drawing his sword, " Either
confess, or I will pin you to the wall like a toad !''

The man trembled : he could not guess how much Odow-
alsky might already know. He tried evasive answers, but
Odowalsky, presenting the point of his sword to his breast,
and inferring his guilt from his trepidation, cried, " I know all —
you have nothing to discover : — only say, how much did you
receive?"

" Sixty doubloons," answered the man, fairly terrified, and
throwing himself at the Colonel's feet; — "The lady 'promised
the most inviolable secresy ; yet, now "

"Hah! hah! hah!'' cried Odowalsky, with a demoniac
laugh. " So, the lady Helen did set the girl at liberty ; — that
I knew. Hut where have you concealed her ?"

" So please you, Colonel, we did not succeed in finding her.
She was gone when I entered the room "

" What! do you mean to trifle with me ?" exclaimed Odow-
alsky, resuming his former threatening attitude 3 — " Where is
she? — Speak, or my sword shall make you find words !''

" By all the saints, noble Sir, I know not ! As the lady
has, no doubt, told you all, she must surely have told you this
with the rest. The window had, we found, been forced from
the outside ; — in the Hirsch-Graben we found also a ladder,
and other tools, used to assist in the escape. But may Heaven
punish me, if either I or the lady could even guess what be-
came uf the girl, or who it was that rescued her."

During this dialogue, Odowalsky had succeeded in subduing

264 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

and calming a little the tumult which had raged within him,
and believed, at last, that some person had been before-hand
with Helen in the affair. This, however, did not lessen her
guilt

" Begone, fellow '." shouted he, in a voice of thunder, to
the gaoler, who, shaking in every limb, hastened away.

Thus then did Odowalsky's hopes and faith break down to-
gether, in this quarter likewise. Ambition and love had lured
him on, with glittering rays, only to abandon him, in dark-
ness, to himself. " In this desolation of my fortunes," thought
he, " one hope at least remains. — Prague — haughty, detested
Prague— at length shall fall !''

His post was at the New-Gate. — There, the walls had suf-
fered much already, and he would fain anticipate it as a cer-
tainty, that he should penetrate them, and, leading onward his
victorious troops, give over to their lust for blood and rapine,
the lives and property of the inhabitants, whose obstinate re-
sistance had long since, in his opinion, merited this lot. Oh,
that fate would bring him to Wallenstein, face to face ! that he
might, with his own hand, inflict the death- wound, and delight
his eyes with his rival's last struggles.

He now began to busy himself in choosing his arms and
accoutrements, and having done this, he sought a brief repose,
wherefrom he was soon aroused by the blast of trumpets sum-
moning the troops to the field.

He rose hastily, and advanced toward the window which
looked out, across the Moldavia, to the opposite parts of the
city. The streaks of light were still but dim ; the thick fog
of October was spread over the river, and wrapped every ad-
jacent object in a veil of gloom. "Even the elements work
against me !" murmured he: "unless this mist disperse, it
will render any enterprise extremely difficult, if not altogether
impossible."

His aide-de-camp now came to inform him that the Pala-
tine had ordered the troops to get into motion, and that every
thing was ready. His attendants having assisted in arming

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 265

him, and thrown over his whole dress his Swedish cloak,
(rendered still more requisite, from the piercing coldness
of the weather,) he sprang upon his steed at the head of
his regiment, which followed him through the fog, without
being well able to distinguish the road it had to take.

With very different sensations vras the morning greeted by
the inhabitants of Prague. The Emperor Ferdinand, bearing
in mind the fidelity and danger of his beloved city of Prague,
had, as speedily as could well be, collected a force to relieve
the place. The exhaustion which a thirty years continued
war had brought with it among the army, alone prevented an
earlier reinforcement.

Like a message from heaven did this intelligence sound in
the hearts of the overjoyed inhabitants of the besieged town,
who had now, during three long tedious months, borne with
unwearied fidelity and resolution every suffering, danger, and
exertion in this great struggle.

Animated now with new vigour, each man, when the
alarm bells, on the morning in question, announced the ad-
vance of the Swedes for a fresh assault, flew, like lightning,
to his post. — Wulden was placed at the New- Gate; and
Wallenstein at the Wissehrad.

CHAPTER XXV.

HIGH waved the colours, and loud rose the shouts of the
patriot bands, as they arrived at the threatened gates, whence,
on mounting the walls, they could descry the hostile ranks,
their arms glittering in the sun- beams, and their march in
double quick time.

Among the foremost of these, advancing against the New-
Gate, commanded by Wulden, was to be distinguished a man
of majestic stature, enveloped in a grey fur mantle, and show-
ing the most desperate zeal. On foot, like all ihe rest, with

A A

266 THE SWEDES IX PRAGUE ;

a partisan in his left hand, he pressed on his people to the
attack, of the whole of which he appeared the very life and
soul. Wherever he fought, victory hovered over his party,
and Wulden felt that he alone possessed the strength of half
a regiment. To deprive the Swedes of this leader, would be
equivalent to defeating them altogether. But his force was
too small to attack the Swedish division, so commanded. For-
tunately, owing to Wallenstein's well- managed defence, the
attack on the Wissehrad had been repulsed, and General
Wiirtemberg had retreated ; General Conti therefore ordered
our hero to proceed with his party to the New-Gate, which
the latter hastened to do, happy in being called on to sup-
port his friend.

The Swedes had twice renewed their attack, and each time
been repulsed. But the officer in the grey fur mantle led
them forward a third time. It seemed as if he had set his
mind upon penetrating into the town ; his exhortations, his
threats, and his example, serving again and again to animate
his disheartened soldiers, once more they pressed forward, and
Wulden saw the coming danger ; anxiously and wistfully did
he look out for reinforcements, which, owing to the con-
siderable distance, could not as yet be expected to appear,
and at that moment his eye caught the figure of the mighty
Swede, as, vvilh his high-swinging partisan and flaming looks,
he called to his troops, and had advanced onward so rapidly
as to be separated but by a small remnant of the wall from
the interior of the town. Just then, Leopold suddenly seized
a firelock out of the hand of one of the soldiers standing by
him, rixed his man, pulled the trigger, and down dropt the
officer with the whole weight of his powerful body under the
ruins and dust. The Swedes, when they beheld their leader
fall, sent forth a shout of terror and despair, and took to
flight. In vain did other officers endeavour to rally and bring
them back to the breach ; with that man it seemed as if all
their courage had vanished.

The Bohemians, seeing the disorder of the enemy, pressed

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 267

on, pursued and overtook them, making great havoc amongst
the fugitives ; and thus, on this side also, was the enemy
completely defeated with considerable loss, and the city
saved !

Wulden lost no time in searching for the distinguished
Swedish officer, desirous, should he yet live, of having every
care and attention paid to his wounds, for he had proved him-
self a gallant foe. Fie was, after awhile, lifted from among
the ruins, still alive. Leopold had him placed close by,
upon the breast-work, and summoned the attendance of a
surgeon.

The surgeon commenced his examination, and declared,
that there was but little hope of the wounded man surviving,
the vital parts being affected. Still, however, the wound was
carefully dressed ; and they were just consulting about the
most proper place whereto to bear a person of such evident
rank and consequence, when Wallenstein arrived, with his
reinforcement, at the New-Gate.

To the surprise and mortification of our hero, he found
the conflict at an end, and heard, that the fall of one man had
decided the wliole affair.

" Well, we will at least assist you to bury your dead !"
said Albert, as he stepped toward the Swedish officer, who
was lying in a state of complete insensibility. He examined
him more closely. Blood, dust, and agony, had, it was true,
discomposed and disfigured the features ; but a fearful resem-
blance became more and more certain, and, in broken accents,
Wallenstein exclaimed, " Leopold ! it is Odowalsky !" The
name struck at once to the heart of Wulden, and both youths
were, for a moment, buried in deep eflection.

Wallenstein (his first shock of surprise over) decided on
having the Colonel, who still continued to give a few signs of
life, placed where he might be accommodated as his state
demanded. He was provided with a comfortable and befitting
apartment, and a more experienced surgeon was sent for,

AA2

THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

whose statement confirmed, however, what had at first been
pronounced, as to the probable effect of the wound.

His surgeon's skilful treatment, together with the strength-
ening potions which were administered, effected, after some
interval, so much that Odowalsky recovered a little, and opened
his eyes; — when, seeing himself in a place quite unknown to
him, and among strange faces, he inquired in a tone almost
inaudible, " Where am I ?'" He was informed, and an ex-
pression of the most violent rage distorted his features, and
shook his whole frame, when he heard that he was a prisoner
in Prague.

Wallenstein had withdrawn from observation ; for he felt
that he was certainly not an object, the sight of which might
serve to calm the agitation of the sufferer. He, therefore,
took his station at the window, from whence he beheld the
marks of indignation vented by the people, upon hearing that
Odowalsky was inside the house. He went out, fearful the
noise might disturb the wounded captive, aud endeavoured to
prevail on the malcontents to retire.

Reasoning, however, with a passionate and ignorant mob,
is but lost labour, as Wallenstein soon perceived, from the
increasing turbulence of the crowd before him ; and he was,
accordingly, not ill-pleased to see his friend Leopold advancing
with an armed piquet. Catching his eye, Wallenstein ad-
dressed the young Baron as his inferior officer, with a com-
mand to " Disperse the mob !" directions which were speedily
acted on, as soon as Wulden saw the really critical situation
wherein his companion stood.

Having succeeded in doing this, Leopold expressed his
astonishment that Wallenstein should feel inclined to run
any risk for the sake of a public traitor and a personal foe.

" It is simply," answered our hero, smiling, " because he
was my enemy ;" and the two friends proceeded up the steps
to see how the invalid went on. On their way, however, they
were met by the surgeon with an agitated countenance j —

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 269

" The Swedish officer is dying, my Lord/' he exclaimed,
" we have endeavoured to recover him, and to bind up his
wound again, but all in vain. The state of his breast, but
still more his mental agony, must soon put an end to his
existence ; it cannot last another half hour.1'

" Does he still suffer much ?" asked Albert, with evident
anxiety.

" Scarcely at all," replied the medical man : " the sudden
and great loss of blood has produced so much weakness, that,
indeed, he is no longer in a state to feel pain. He is quite
insensible."

" May heaven be merciful to him in his last moments !"
exclaimed Wallenstein, approaching a window in order to
conceal his emotion.

At this moment an attendant came to the door, and made
a sign to the surgeon, who followed him, and returned after a
short interval.

" And how goes it now, doctor ?" asked Leopold.

"Why — well!" replied the doctor, gravely; "it is over
with him. He expired quite calmly. He had made a sign to
me to approach, and I was forced to lean over him, even to
his very lips, to catch the sounds, when he whispered, ' My
thanks to Wallenstein !' and with these words upon his tongue
he gave forth the last weak gasp of life."

Wallenstein spoke not : deep and conflicting emotions
seemed to be struggling within his breast, as he pointed to the
door of the room where lay the corpse of Odowalsky. The
surgeon understood the signal, and led the way, followed by
the young men, one of whom had been the chief object of
the dead man's hatred, while the other had deprived him of
life.

And there lay the tall, once powerful soldier, pale and life-
less, but not disfigured, upon his bed. There were no more
traces of that wild rage and fury which had so often accom-
panied his actions : over the once passionate features a mild
calm was now spread, which very probably the unfortunate

A A3

THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

man's countenance had never displayed before ; for his whole
life appeared to have beea a tissue of feverish excitement,
either pleasurable or painful.

"He was the foe of many," said Wulden, contemplating the
statue-like marble figure before him.

"But of himself the greatest!" replied Wallenstein, as,
having loosened, by the sight of this spectacle, the suffocating
feeling about his heart, he motioned to quit the apartment.

A few hours after the battle, the rolling of drums in the
vineyards opposite the New-Gate announced, that the Swedes
wished to summon a parley. They demanded a truce of four-
and- twenty hours, in order to afford time on both sides for
burying the dead, which was granted.

The two friends had another object which caused them
some anxiety ; namely, the body of their prisoner. It would
have been their wish to have him interred in one of the
church-yards of the city ; but this they durst not attempt, on
account of the ill- disposition of the people, and Wallenstein
lighted on the thought of delivering over the remains secretly
to the Swedes. Accordingly he spoke with Count Colloredo
to this effect, who, having given his acquiescence to the pro-
posal, the affair was immediately entrusted to the charge of
an officer of the garrison, who accompanied the enemy's
drummer back to their head- quarters, in order to make the
necessary arrangements. The news of Odowalsky's fall was
already known there. Many regretted him as a useful par-
tizan ; still more were glad to be rid of him ; while some few
really mourned his loss, and among these was his friend
Coppy.

The beforementioned drummer returned to the camp, ac-
companied by the Bohemian officer, whom Konigsmark him-
self announced to the Prince as bringing inlelligence respect-
ing the proposed truce — and he then introduced the wish ex-
pressed by the Bohemian leader. Charles Gustavus learnt, by
this wish, of the death of Odowalsky, which affected him
rather at first, for he was conscious of having committed, the

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 271

preceding day, some injustice toward the deceased ; but, after
awhile, regarding the event in another point of view, a ray of
hope and joy sprang up in his heart, — the lovely object of his
adoration was now freed from her engrossing and petulant
admirer. He ultimately commissioned Konigsmark to attend,
and provide for the honourable interment of the body.

Konigsmark rejoiced at this commission. His heart was
now more mildly attuned than ever j one pleasure — a pleasure
he had not anicipated, and, indeed, had long siuce given up,
had been therein infused, and had opened it to every softer
sensation. He readily gave orders for receiving, before the
New-Gate, under cover of night, (in order to screen it from
the maltreatment of the mob,) the body of him, whom, in-
deed, he honoured as a soldier, but, as a man, never could
respectj and then to have it interred on the appointed spot,
where reposed the other Swedish officers who had been killed
during the siege.

News of the most unpleasant nature now reached the camp
of the besiegers. General Wrangel, it appeared, was unable
to send the reinforcement demanded, he himself requiring
even more troops than he already had at his disposal. The
Palatine summoned a council of war, whereat two things
were determined on ; first, to try whether the city might not
be brought over to a peaceful surrender, before the reinforce-
ments arrived ; and, secondly, to endeavour to keep any in-
telligence of the force marching to their aid, from the know-
ledge of the Praguese. In pursuance of the first of these re-
solutions, another flag of truce was dispatched to the city,
accompanied by a General officer, who, in the name of the
Prince Palatine — influenced, as he said, by a desire to spare
the further effusion of human blood, offered favourable terms
of capitulation. The Bohemian authorities felt strongly dis-
posed to dismiss this proposal in a summary way j but the
policy of gaining time occurred to them ; and, in conformity
therewith, they promised to give the Prince's offers due con-
sideration. It was subsequently determined that, next morn-

272 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

ing, Colonel Count Gotz, accompanied by Count Wallenstein,
should be deputed to wait on the Prince, and suggest such
modifications of his Highness's terms, as, it was well known,
he would not agree to.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE day on which Odowalsky fell, one of his attendants had
ridden to the castle of Troy, with the news of his death. The
first member of the family that he met, happened, accidentally,
to be the Baroness von Zelstow herself. However little the
friendship that lady bore toward Odowalsky, still she was
startled on receiving this intelligence ; besides, how was it to
be imparted to Helen ? — Having imposed the strictest silence
upon the messenger, she proceeded to the young lady's apart-
ment, in order to communicate it herself, as cautiously and
delicately as possible.

Helen's agitation was extremely great : — over- wrought na-
ture sought temporary refuge in insensibility j and even on
her recovery from that state, it was long before a friendly gush
of tears relieved the pressure about her heart. Having over-
come the first terrible blow, the real state of circumstances
presented itself to her view in a milder light. She had, as we
have seen, begun to speculate on the wisdom of finding means
to disunite their destinies — and that which she aimed at, a
mysterious Providence had awfully accomplished. She learnt,
too, after awhile, that the same hand which had inflicted
Odowalsky's death-wound had likewise administered to the
comfort of his expiring moments.

And this generous foe was Wallenstein ! He had, most
probably, she imagined, from a lingering emotion of deep at-
tachment toward herself, interfered in behalf of her betrothed ;

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 273

and a hundred thoughts and associations rushed upon her
mind as she endeavoured to persuade herself of the truth of
this delusion.

To divert the concentration of Helen's reflections, it was
proposed by the Baron, that the ladies should pay a visit to a
friend in the Kleinseite j and accordingly, Madame de Zel-
stow, Madame de Berka, and Helen, set forth one morning
from Troy, and entered that part of the capital. An unusual
bustle seemed to prevail in the streets, which they were told
resulted from the expectation of a Bohemian embassy coming
to treat respecting the capitulation of Prague.

They had scarcely seated themselves in an apartment of
their friend's house, and exchanged the customary greetings,
when the announcement of the cavalcade drew them to the
windows. Helen closed her deep mourning veil around her
as it approached.

At its head marched a number of trumpeters, followed by
two officers escorted by a troop of horsemen. Shouts of
" Ferdinand for ever !'' greeted them, as, at a slow pace, they
proceeded through the Kleinseite. On the right was Count
Gotz, a well-formed man, of middle age, and on the left
was Wallenstein.

The imperial officers were introduced to the Palatine. He
received them graciously, for he doubted not that they would
seize his proposal with joy. Count Gotz acted the character
of spokesman, while Wallenstein had leisure to direct his looks
toward the various officers who were near the person of the
Prince. In the course of this survey, his eyes encountered a
face, the sight of which suddenly awoke within him a faint,
though disagreeable, recollection. He looked again j they
were the same strongly-marked features j there was the same
stern expression in the eyes, the same reddish auburn hair,
with those of the portrait which he had seen in Joanna's hand,
and about which he had not yet been able to receive any ex-
planation ; and he observed, that this man, whom he could

274 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

not view without inward emotion, also looked at him with a
friendly smile, which did not seem to be natural to those stern
features. He could now no longer restrain his curiosity, and
inquired of a gentleman beside him, who that officer was,
standing on the right of the Palatine ?

"It is Field-Marshal Count Konigsmark,'1 replied the
other ; and Wallenstein was still more astonished when he
heard his name ; for any connection between the Marshal and
Joanna appeared to him scarcely possible. While thinking of
this, he overheard almost all that passed between Count Gotz
and the Prince, until the latter suddenly sprung from his seat,
exclaiming: " Say rather, Colonel, that you will not give up
the city at all ! for such conditions as those you propose to
me, cannot possibly be accepted by any General who has al-
ready brought the enemy to the last push. No ! since you
reject my gracious offers, let the sword decide ultimately be-
tween us, and it will soon appear that you have chosen your
own destruction." With these words he turned away, and
was on the point of leaving the room in anger, followed by his
staff, when he suddenly stopped at the door, (reminded either
by his own better recollection, or by one of his suite) : —
'• However, gentlemen," said he, with courteous manner, turn-
ing to the imperial officers, " this untoward result of our
negociation will not, I hope, prevent your giving me the plea-
sure of seeing you at my table.'' The Bohemians bowed
respectfully, and Gustavus left the room. Several Swedish
officers, however, remained, to perform the rites of hospitality
toward the strangers.

Scarcely had Wallenstein laid aside his gloves and sword,
and was on the point of giving himself over to the thoughts
and suppositions which Konigsmark's appearance had ex-
cited, when one of his attendants brought him a card of in-
vitation from the Barouess von Zelstow, which stated, that
the Baroness was accidentally in the Kleinseite, visiting her
friend, Madam von Krudener, and, having seen Count Wai-

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 275

lenstein pass, could not resist the desire of speaking once
more with the old friend and kinsman of her house.

This invitation was not agreeable to our hero ; to meet
Helen was very much against his wish. Still, she was, he
concluded, just now a mourner : he had quite ceased to feel
any emotion respecting her : and his aunt had always shewn
him much affection. It would, therefore, he conceived, be
improper to withhold himself from this interview, and the in-
terval which remained to be filled up until dinner-time con-
tributed to fix his determination. He accordingly resumed
his hat and gloves, and directed the attendant to shew him to
the mansion at which his relation was stopping.

He was received by the elder ladies with open arms, and
warmly congratulated on the active part he had taken in the
defence of his native city, during the progress of the siege.
The conversation had lasted some little time, and Albert began
to hope that he should be spared the embarrassment of Helen's
presence, when the Baroness suddenly said, —

" But there is another old acquaintance, Count Wallenstein,
who is anxious to add her congratulations to ours ;" and as
she spoke, she walked, smiling, to a pair of folding -doors,
which being thrown open, Helen was discovered in an inner
apartment, reading. Madame von Zelstow and her two re-
spectable friends, quitted the room after awhile, and left the
young people together.

AVe will not attempt to detail the conversation that ensued
between Helen and her former suitor : not that the beauty of
Troy uttered a syllable the import whereof could be objected
to, even by the most fastidious of spinster aunts ; but she
certainly did give Albert ample reason to perceive, that a re-
newal of his addresses would be any thing but disagreeable.

All this, however, was lost upon our hero : and he after-
ward told his friend Wulden, that he was himself quite sur-
prised to find how complete was his indifference, and how de-
cidedly it was manifested. A single glance at her niece's
countenance made this fact palpable to the Baroness, on her

276 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

return to the saloon ; and we fear that, after \Yrallenstein's
departure to figure at the prince's banquet, the discourse
of the ladies of Troy was neither particularly lively nor satis-
factory.

Previous to leaving the Palace, Wallenstein had dispatched
a servant to his own mansion to request that Bertram, his
steward, would come to him ; he was desirous of hearing how
matters went on at the Friedland- Palace, and also of putting
his faithful domestic at rest, respecting the safety of Joanna.
He learnt, on the servant's return, that Bertram was not at
the mansion, indeed, not in Prague ; but had gone, the pre-
ceding day, by order of Count Konigsmark, and in a carriage
provided for him by the Count, to Kaurzim.

This intelligence involved Albert in a hundred different
speculations, which occupied him during the entire time of
dinner. Could it be possible that these Swedes had dis-
covered Joanna's place of refuge ? And could their thirst
for blood be so great as to induce them to seek a renewal of
the frustrated sacrifice ? Then, what part was the father to
play in such a drama ? And could the peculiar smile which
Count Konigsmark had cast on him at the audience, be a vin-
dictive one ?

Completely bewildered, and seriously harassed, by these
thoughts, he resolved, to seek an interview with the venerable
Count Martinitz, who was the most eligible person of whom
to seek information, and perhaps the likeliest to give it. Ac-
cordingly, requesting an hour's leave of absence from Count
Gotz, he with much haste proceeded toward the apartments
of the Upper-Burgraf.

In a lonely court of the castle, which he had to cross, a
closed carriage had just drawn up before one of the small
postern gates. Four dragoons, who appeared to have es-
corted it, had dismounted, and were leading their horses to
the stable. Wallenstein's progress was completely arrested ;
for a sudden thought struck him, that this was the coach
which had brought Joanna. "She is here," said he: "per-

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 277

haps in danger; I must see her !" He hastened toward the
gate, and found the carriage empty : upon this he stepped
into a long corridor, lined on one side by numerous apart-
ments, and on the other by windows looking out into the
court. At a distance, and at the very end of the corridor, he
beheld a man of short stature, enveloped in a black cloak, and
with a fur cap on, who bore great resemblance in figure to his
steward, Bertram, and who was just turning down on one side
toward the stairs leading to Count Konigsmark's chambers.
To overtake this man was hardly possible, but still Wallenstein
hurried forward. A door on the right hand was open, and he,
upon a venture, entered the room into which it led. Here he
beheld, seated near a table, a female, enveloped like the man,
in a fur mantle. She appeared to be in meditation, her head
resting upon her hand, her elbow on the chair; the position,
the dress, even the bend of the lovely neck, confirmed his anx-
ious supposition : it was Joanna ! His blood rushed into his
veins with greater violence ; he advanced closer j the clanking
of his sword upon the ground betrayed his presence, and the
female started up, turned round, and, with an agitated expres-
sion, held firmly by the chair for support. "Joanna!" ex-
claimed Wallenstein, hastening toward her, and clasping her
in his arms ; all former resolutions forgotten.

Some moments had elapsed before either was capable of ut-
terance. At length, Wallenstein recovered some self-posses-
sion, and gazed on Joanna with looks of fondness. How was
she changed ! Every thing confirmed his dreadful suspicions.

" Alas, my Joanna !" said he ; " is it thus I must again see
you ! Was then your place of refuge not sufficiently con- .
cealed ? Could not my love succeed in protecting you from
your tormentors ?"

At these words Joanna looked up at him, a sweet smile
beaming upon her lovely countenance: "How mean you, my
honored Lord? My father has brought me hither."

" Yes, I know so much j but at whose command, and with
what escort ? — I scarcely dare to ask — as a criminal ?"

B B

278 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

"Not so !" replied Joanna mildly} " Count Konigsmark
means no harm to me."

" But why those dragoons I"

" The roads, my Lord, are represented as extremely unsafe,
and the Count recommended to my father the greatest caution
and care."

" But why, dear girl, are you so pale — so wasted ? Have
they treated you unkindly ?"

" By no means, my Lord; on the contrary, I was so happy
as to gain the favor of the Lady von Wulden, who treated me
like her own relative."

" Well, time must explain this seeming enigma : mean-
while, let me bless the chance which has again permitted me
to hold you in my arms !"

Joanna looked conscious, and blushed deeply, but made lit-
tle effort to withdraw herself from Wallenstein's ardent em-
braces. He, on his part, felt that his conventional defences
were beaten down. Difference of rank — family pride — con-
sideration for the opinion of the world, melled away before
the noon-day warmth of all-conquering love !

" Joanna !" at length, he resumed, " You are mine ! No
power on earth shall separate us ! I cannot live without you !
this I have felt since we last met, and — nay, interrupt me not,
sweetest, you alone shall be my wife !"

" Count Wallenstein !" cried she, by this time awake to the
impropriety of prolonging this interview, "I intreat you to
pause, and consider!"

"I have considered!" replied he, gravely j "considered
every thing, fully, repeatedly. Do not imagine that an over-
hasty passion transports me thus ! Your worth, and our re-
lative circumstances, stand clearly before my mind. The
wounds of my country are many and deep. I have vowed, I
am sworn, to endeavour to staunch them. But in this career,
I must have the consolation afforded by some gentle heart, to
resort to. 1 must have some mild and radiant eye to greet me
when I return from the battle j to gird on my sword, when I

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 279

start forth to it. And who so worthy as my gentle, wise
Joanna ; brought up, as it were, in the school of misfortune?
She will assist me in drying the tears of my dependants, for
she knows how bitter it is to shed them ; whilst a high-born
wife might only think of the brilliancy of her rank."

" Ah, hold, hold, my honored Lord ! I dare not listen to
you. Too sweet, too seducing, are the images you describe!"

At this moment, footsteps were heard approaching an inner
door, together with voices in conversation. " It is my father
returning for me," said Joanna.

Wallenstein recollected that his time was well nigh expired,
and that Gotz would be awaiting him. Once more hastily
embracing Joanna, he prepared, therefore, to depart ; " Fare-
well !" whispered he, " my beloved ! my bride! We will soon
meet again !" and with these words he tore himself away.

As he hurried along, half forgetting his purposed visit to
Martinitz, he was met by one of his attendants. " Hasten,
my Lord!" exclaimed the man; " Count Gotz is this moment
mounting his horse to depart, and anxiously expects your re-
turn." Wallenstein started, as from a trance. He perceived
that his intended interview with the Upper-Burgarf must be
postponed ; and although with a heavy heart concerning
Joanna, he joined the Colonel, and quickly reached the New-
Town, where, immediately seeking his friend Wulden, he re-
lated all he had this day experienced, and requested Leopold's
counsel and aid with respect to his going next morning to the
Hradschin, to see Count Martinitz.

An order had just been sent to Wallenstein to proceed with
his company to the station of the Korn-Gate, and, conse-
quently, he could not venture to leave the city. Wulden,
therefore, offered to go in his place. " You know," said he,
" I assisted you to rescue the maiden, and I am a little in
love with her myself, though not quite so far gone as yon, on
which account I am the fittest to speak in your name; but I
think the whole thing will be quite useless ?"

"Useless! Why?"

BB2

280 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE J

" Because, half an hour since, a deserter from the enemy
entered the Old-Town, informing us that there is a great
movement among the Swedes, who seem as if they were pre-
paring for a retreat; whilst we have, likewise, received news
which may be depended on, (in spite of the strictness where-
with the Swedes have striven to cut off all communication,)
that General des Souches is already lying near the Sazawa, and
will arrive before Prague to-morrow. Nevertheless, to relieve
your impatience, I will, if possible, get to the Government
Palace to speak with Count Martinitz."

The ensuing morning was that of the first of November —
All-Saints' day. The country all round was again enveloped
in a thick fog, which covered the city itself so completely,
that the points of the towers could scarcely be distinguished.
But a fresh wind arising from the east, the mist dispersed
before it, the hills around Prague became visible, and, to the
great surprise of the besieged, the sentinels on the different
watch-towers announced that the whole Swedish camp ap-
peared to have broken up ; that the tents had vanished, the
cannons been dragged away, and some odd remnants of bat-
teries were alone to be seen.

This news soon spread through the whole city, and happy
to taste a freedom of which they had so long been deprived,
the Praguese were hurrying out at the gates to inspect the de-
serted encampment of the enemy.

General Conti, however, held them back with wise pre-
caution, and gave strict orders that no one should be per-
mitted to issue forth at present, as he did not yet trust to this
sudden retreat of the enemy, and suspected there might
be some ruse de guerre concealed beneath it. To Wal-
leustein, this news was indeed a thunderbolt : much as he
rejoiced thereat, yet now, neither Leopold nor himself could
form any hope of getting up the Hradschin, and the uncer-
tainty hanging over Joanna's fate pressed heavily on his
heart.

A couple of hours after, came at length a messenger whose

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 281

tidings completely did away with all remaining anxiety or
doubt. Trumpets sounded before the gates of Wissehrad ;
and they blew no Swedish strain. " The imperial reinforce-
ment is arrived !" was the cry that circulated through the
streets, and occasioned the liveliest rejoicings. Generals
Golz and des Souches were lying with their corps d'armee
scarce half a league distant from the city, and it was now
easily conceivable that the Swedes (who must have got earlier
information) had really withdrawn, and given up all further
views against Prague.

CHAPTER XXVII.

ALL- Saints' day had unexpectedly proved to the Praguese a
day of joy and festival, and the following brought with it
still greater satisfaction, — tidings of the liberation of the
whole Germanic Empire, after unspeakable sufferings, and
thirty years of war and desolation. The preliminaries of peace
were at length signed !

All hostilities were now at an end ; and Konigsmark (who
with a small body of troops still held the Kleinseite) com-
menced making preparations, in great haste, for a splendid fes-
tival, at which he solicited the presence of Field-Marshal
Colloredo, and all the General officers and staff of the gar-
rison, expressly requesting the attendance of Wallenstein, and
Father Plachy.

The long closed Bridge-Tower of the Old-Town was once
more opened, and a suitable path formed for the brilliant train
about to proceed to the other side of the city. With the
Field-Marshal at their head, the shining ranks of the officers,
in gala-uniform, and mounted on beautiful steeds, moved over
the bridge ; and in the midst of them was seen conspicuous
in his sacerdotal habit, though with helmet still on head, and
sword girded round his loins, Father Plachy, supported on
eech side, by his beloved companions, Wallenstein and NVulden.
B B 3

282 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

Scarcely could the long train make way through the con-
course of people, who rushed toward them with shouts of
joy. Every window and casement flew open5 and was in-
stantly filled by lovely forms, eager to see and greet the brave
defenders of their native city ; and many a bright eye beamed
approvingly upon the warriors.

Having arrived at length at the outer court of the Gover-
nor's palace, they all dismounted, and were received by Konigs-
mark, attended by his few remaining officers, also in full state,
who welcomed them in the most cordial and friendly manner,
his stern countenance illuminated with a ray of joy, such as
had seldom before been observed thereon.

The Bohemian and Swedish officers soon mingled together
in friendly intercourse : while Konigsmark himself approached
Wallenstein, and taking his hand, said, " With you, Count,
I have to speak more particularly." Wallenstein bowed, but
replied not j while the General continued — " I owe to you,
my Lord, a great, an unrepayable obligation !"

" To me, sir !" said Albert, astonished ; " I am uncon-
scious of having — "

"Yet it is even so," interrupted Konigsmark, with a smile;
" I have to thank your courage and determination, aided per-
haps," said he archly, " by another feeling, for the life, and,
what is still more, the rescued honour, of a person who is
dear to me above every thing."

Wallenstein gazed on the General with the utmost surprise :
he knew not what to answer, for he comprehended not the
meaning of what had been said.

" Come," said Konigsmark, after enjoying for a few mo-
ments Albert's embarrassment, " as we have half an hour to
spare before dinner is served, I will not suffer you to eat your
meal in disquiet. I can judge of your anxiety by that which
I myself felt until two days ago. The company will excuse
us awhile," added he, bowing around, " and I will answer
that you shall have a good appetite when you return."

With these words, he took Albert by the arm, and led him

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 283

from the saloon across a gallery, to a door which opened into
an anti-chamber that formed the commencement of a suite of
splendid apartments. An attendant, in readiness there, opened
the folding-doors ; they stepped in, and proceeded through
several rooms, the appearance of which led Wallenstein to
infer that they were appropriated to some lady of high rank.
Reaching, at length, a cabinet at the end of this suite, Konigs-
mark left our hero, with the assurance that he would return
immediately ; and Albert had, meanwhile, sufficient time to
survey the place he stood in. He could not doubt but it was,
in fact, the boudoir of some lady.

All this was, to Wallenstein, extremely perplexing. " What,"
thought he, " can be Count Konigsmark's object in bringing
me hither?" All at once the idea of Helen came over him,
accompanied by an unpleasant sensation ; and he was still per-
plexing himself with speculations, never hitting the fact, when
the door opened through which Konigsmark had retired, and
the General stepped forward, leading by the hand a female in
a dress of light blue silk, whose chesnut hair fell in ringlets
over her forehead, and on both sides down to her shoulders.
Wallenstein gazed, astonished, on this fair apparition. Was
it possible ? or was it a delusion, cheating his eye and fancy ?
No ! — it was assuredly Joanna, in the garb of a lady of rank !
Her smile, the expression of sweet love in her looks, convinced
him that it was no deception ; but the words of Konigsmark, —
" I present to you my daughter, Joanna, for whose life and
preservation I have to thank you, sir !" — threw him again
into doubt and uncertainty. Confused, but, withal, delighted,
he advanced toward the lady, whom having gallantly saluted,
he turned, with a look requesting explanation, to the noble
person who called himself her father. At length Count
Konigsmark thus began: "Yes, dear Wallenstein! — for so
permit me to call you — it is my daughter ! — the long-lost
pledge of a wife whom I dearly loved, and who, alas I was
separated from me too soon ! But come, my dear children,"

284 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE;

continued he, " sit down, and I will give you a clue to these
events, which, doubtless, at present, look mysterious : —

" It happened that, on account of a duel, in which I had
the misfortune to kill my antagonist, I was forced to fly from
Sweden, and dwell awhile in Saxony, under the title of Baron
von Ruppin — the name of an estate which my ancestor had
once possessed in Brandenburgh. I entered the service of
Saxony, and marched into Bohemia under the banners of the
Elector. Prague and several other cities were forced, as you
know, to surrender to us.

" In Kuttenberg, whither accident led me and my corps, I
became acquainted with a lovely female residing there with a
relation, and who, as it was said, was being educated for the
convent. She was a niece of Count Martinitz. Her father,
a younger brother of the Count, and who died at an early age,
had intended her, from her birth, for the veil. Joanna, (for
so my wife was also called,)" continued he, as a sigh escaped
his breast, " was a beautiful and amiable creature, — like her
daughter. We loved each other sincerely ; and the relation
with whom Joanna was residing, apprised her uncle, by letter,
of this attachment ;— his niece being subject to his will. Per-
haps the Count's faith, as differing from mine, led him to op-
pose our loves ; at all events, he announced his inflexible
determination never to deviate, in this instance, from the de-
clared wishes of his deceased brother.

" Why should I occupy your attention with a relation of our
sufferings ? Enough — I overcame Joanna's scruples, and flew
with her to Koniggratz, of which place also the Saxons had
become masters.

" No Catholic priest would unite us in the bonds of wed-
lock. This circumstance, and love, which easily produces
conviction, inclined Joanna to accept the Lutheran faith, and
we were then blessed by one of the many ministers who, for-
merly driven out of Bohemia, had now returned under the
protection of the Saxon arms.

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 285

" But the hard-pressed Emperor, from whom we bad torn
one of his first dominions, turned, Count Wallenstein ! to your
triumphant uncle. The command of the imperial army was
again offered him; and, accepting it, he drove the Saxons out
of the country at every point. In one of the battles I was
taken prisoner, and sent to Hungary, away from Joanna,
whom I had left behind in Koniggratz — enciente. When, a
year afterward, I was exchanged, and had taken advantage of
an opportunity of returning to Bohemia, (where I wished to
seek my wife,) I found the city in which I left her despoiled
both by friend and foe, in the hands of the imperial troops,
and of my dear Joanna not a single trace. All my inquiries
were vain, I never could ascertain her fate. My wife, my
child, were lost to me. Relate, dear Joanna, the rest !"
said he, as he rose suddenly, and, in order to conceal his agi-
tation, left the room.

Scarcely had he closed the door, ere Albert was on his knees
before the blushing girl, who, smiling through a gush of tears,
stretched out her hand and bade her lover rise.

The first burst of feeling subsided, Joanna bethought herself
of Count Konigsmark's injunction, and proceeded to complete
his story. "As regards my poor mother," said she, "my
father does not even know how she came from Koniggratz to
Gitschim ; but supposes she was driven away by the war, and
sought shelter with honest Bertram and his wife, who were
then already in the service of your uncle. It was here that
the delicate, ailing, and dejected widow of a Hungarian officer
(for it was under this character she gave herself out,) resided,
in the greatest retirement, with her infant. Bertram's wife
attended to her comfort with every possible care, perceiving
that deep sorrow was making fast inroads in the health of my
poor unhappy mother. Alas ! it was not alone anxiety as to
her husband's fate which produced this melancholy ; it was
remorse, repentance, which pointed out, in the unhappiness
she endured, the punishment of heaven for her apostacy in
changing her creed, and for her disobedient conduct. Under

286 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE j

all these sufferings — real and imaginary — she sank at last, her
death being doubtless hastened also by the unhappy nature of
the times ; and she expired in the arms of my good foster-pa-
rents, to whom on her death- bed she confessed her rank, and
the name of her husband, making them swear to maintain me
as their own, never to mention the discovery she then made,
and, educating me in their own creed, to keep me far from
rank and riches. Bertram has faithfully performed the pro-
mise : and nothing but my imminent danger, aggravated by
the horrible thought that my own father might unconsciously
sign my death-warrant, determined him, no other means pre-
senting themselves, to hasten to Leipsic, and there, without
further delay, discover to CountKonigsmarkhis important secret.

"The effect and result of this intelligence may be naturally
imagined. No time was lost in making every possible search
for me, but, dear Albert ! you had, in your kindness and
regard for my safety, placed me in too secure an asylum to
allow of their easily finding me out ; nor was it until some
time had elapsed that they succeeded in so doing. At length,
however, and but two days since, Bertram discovered my
place of refuge ; on his appearing at which, the manner of
the good old man betrayed so much agitation, as well as
pleasure, that I was at first at a loss what to make of him,
and feared that the joy of seeing me again had perhaps touched
his brain. My father had prohibited him from entering fully
into explanation, having still some natural misgivings, which
he was desirous first to satisfy. These, however, seem to
have vanished at once, on my introduction to him, the other
proofs being triumphantly confirmed by my close resemblance
both to my poor mother and to himself."

"Ah! the portrait!" interrupted Albert: "now I con-
ceive all. But how did it come into your possession ?"

" I found it once, accidentally, among other trinkets and
relics of my foster-mother, long after her death. An auburn
ringlet was lying near it, and one or two letters also, the con-
tents whereof spoke of some tender but unhappy connexion,

OR, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 287

in which the possessor had once stood. I shewed these
things to Bertram, who was struck with surprise and vexa-
tion, and making some hasty allusion to the matter, requested
ine never to mention it. Nevertheless, I retained the por-
trait, which, I knew not why, I never could regard without
the deepest emotion, and thus you once found it in my
hand."

"Ay ; causing me inquietude enough !"

" Seriously ?" inquired Joanna, smiling ; and she was on
the point of adding something more, when Count Konigs-
niark re-entered.

" Well, children," exclaimed he, " I hare, though uninten-
tionally, given you opportunity for a long tfete-a-tete. Your
aunt, my dear Joanna, the Countess Martinitz, is just arrived
with her two daughters ; go to them, and conduct them to
the banqueting-room. You, sir, will accompany me."

Wallenstein ardently kissed Joanna's hand, and seizing
'that of her father, was about (though scarcely able) to speak ;
but the General prevented him, saying, " Master your emo-
tion, Count Wallenstein ! I will not affect to misunderstand
it. I know all that has passed, and consider your claim on
my daughter's hand too sacred to allow me for one moment
to think of withholding it."

At these words both sank at his feet, and the happy father
laid his hands upon their heads and blessed them j which
done, he said hastily, '• But now, come, we are waited for."
They accordingly separated, and Wallenstein had scarcely re-
appeared in the saloon with Konigstnark, ere he beheld Father
Plachy and Wulden, toward whom he hurried, and, filled
with delight, briefly unfolded to them what had passed. Leo-
pold eagerly congratulated his friend, having already taken a
strong interest in the whole affair-j whilst Plachy was at a
loss to imagine how his pupil had contrived to keep his liaison
secret from him, believing that, as his more experienced friend,
he knew all that passed within Albert's breast.

The folding-doors now flew open, and the ladies appeared,

288 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE ;

Joanna being led forward by the Countess Martinitz, her
aunt. Wulden knew her at once in her new brilliancy ; but
Plachy vainly endeavoured to recognize, in the triumphant-
looking beauty before him, the daughter of Wallenstein's
steward. During the banquet, and after the healths of the
high personages who had taken a share in the work of peace
(as well as of those present) had been drunk, the approach-
ing union of Count Wallenstein with the daughter of General
Konigsmark, and niece of the Upper- Burgraf, was made
known, whereupon a shout of congratulation arose on every
side.

It was on the evening of this day that, at the castle of
Troy, the Baron, his lady, and Madame Berka, were assembled
at table, conversing upon the happy change which the last
few days had produced, whilst Helen, seated at a distant
corner of the room, was, or pretended to be, occupied in
reading. All discussion upon this subject wounded her feel-
ings ; since the last meeting with Wallenstein, which had
turned out so unsatisfactorily, her disposition had been that of
settled gloom.

A friend of the family was announced, who, as it appeared,
bad been at the palace, and gave a full account of all that had
passed there during the day. He was listened to with asto-
nishment ; whilst Helen sat struck, as it were, by a thunder-
bolt. She would not, for awhile, yield credit to what she
heard — so inconceivable, so almost incredible, were the
tidings. Trembling, she found that the humble steward's
daughter, who had ventured her life for Wallenstein, had long
been loved by him ; that he it was who had rescued her ; and
that a wonderful chain of circumstances had at length deve-
loped her birth and rank.

When every thing was explained, and no doubt longer re-
mained, Helen was about to withdraw, in order to conceal
from the eyes of her relations the effect this news had upon
her. She arose — advanced a few paces toward the door — and '
then sank fainting upon the ground. The noise of her fall

OB, THE SIGNAL-ROCKET. 289

roused the attention of the others, who hastened to her
assistance, and she was led to her chamber. A serious illness
followed, against which, however, she struggled firmly ; and
having conquered her bodily infirmity, she determined not to
be present in Prague, or even in its vicinity, on the day that
should see the union of Wallenstein and Joanna. She de-
clared to her friends, that, after the death of her lover, and his
position toward the Praguese, she should only have an un-
pleasant character to play, and insisted upon leaving the place.
Her relations gave way, and various propositions were made,
either for her repair to Vienna or to Regensburg. She,
however, would not agree to go into any Catholic country,
and it was now plainly perceived, that her late lover's creed
was also her's. She wrote to a friend who resided at Dresden ;
and upon receiving an answer, departed, accompanied by her
mother, who would not quit her afflicted child, to that city.

Count Konigsmark only remained at Prague long enough to
see his beloved daughter united to Wallenstein, after which
event he departed for his native country, Sweden, with a
promise, however, from them both, of shortly visiting him at
Stockholm — a promise which circumstances prevented their
keeping until two years after, wheu they took with them
their first pledge of love, which they placed in the arms of the
happy grandfather.

To their great astonishment, they found Helen von Berka,
on their arrival at Stockholm, the wife of an aged nobleman
of high rank, though at the same time (as scandalous stories
circulated) in high favour with her old acquaintance the
Palatine. At all events, she had plunged deeply into the
fashion and dissipation of the Swedish capital, wherein she
was a reigning beauty, and affected scarcely to recognise her.
former friends.

Wallenstein usually resided with his beloved Joanna on his
country estates ; the winter, however, he passed in his palace
at Prague, which had again become dear to him, and where

c c

290 THE SWEDES IN PRAGUE.

both attended to the comforts of the venerable steward, whom
they equally regarded with affection.

Wulden, delighted with his friend's happiness, at last re-
solved to follow his example, and renounce his liberty for the
sake of his family name. Father Plachy, together with the
students, returned their arms and colours, in warlike pomp,
to the spot whence they were taken ; and he returned to his
former mild and retired duties. He enjoyed the pleasure of
blessing the nuptials of his beloved pupil at the altar, for from
no other hand would Albert receive the confirmation of his
greatest happiness on earth, but from that of his second
father, who to the last remained a faithful friend and adviser
of the house of Wallenstein.

SALVATOR ROSA;

OR,

THE PORTRAIT OF DANAE.

A COMEDY.

BY PROFESSOR DEINHARDSTEIN.

c c 2

DRAMATIS PERSONA.

ANDREA DEL CALMARI, Director of the Academy of Painters
in Florence.

LAURA, his Ward.

SALVATOR ROSA, the Painter.

LORENZO RAVIENNA, a young Surgeon.

PROCURATOR of the Academy of Painters in Florence.

Painters, Members of the Academy, Spectators at the Distri-
bution of Prizes.

The Scene lies in Florence, in the middle of the Seventeenth
Century.

SALVATOR ROSA;

THE PORTRAIT OF DANAE.

ACT THE FIRST — SCENE THB FIRST.

Salvaior Rosa's residence — Various pictures framed and un-
framed leaning against the wall — A table covered with
papers, brushes, pallets, and painting materials — In the
centre of the room stands an easel, before which is a chair.

SALVATOR ROSA — RAVIENNA (entering from a side door).
Salvator (taking Ravienna by the hand). Accept, Lorenzo,
my most hearty thanks j

If deed or word of mine in ought can serve you,

Be sure you let me know.
Ravienna. No more — no more —

It costs too much to cost you even a thought.
Salvator. A liberal heart still underrates its gifts.

Hast thou not nursed me for a weary month ;

Bestowed on me thy skill's best ministering;

Cleaved to my bed-side ; counted every breath ;

Yielded rich friendship's balm to a mere stranger ? —

All this, Lorenzo, hast thou freely done ;

If I forget it—
Ravienna. Pain me not, Salvator :

A falling horse — a broken arm — a cure

By me performed — a thing of every day !

Thou call'st thyself a stranger — one unknown;
c c 3

294 SALVATOR ROSA;

How should a surgeon, soulless and obscure,
Know thee or glorious art >

Salvator. Why, I will grant
That I pretend to notoriety —
Possess it, too : I've scribbled rambling rhymes ;
With voice and flute have fooled at serenades ;
I've painted certain pictures, which betray
In points peculiar an indifferent youth ;
Meet are the forests of Calabria
For the wild brotherhood who watch, but pray not,
In gorges of romantic Apenine —
Look not my landscapes like the handy work
Of some grim pupil of Masaniello ?

Ravienna (offended). Farewell !

Salvator. Nay — nay — what takes thee hence ?

Ravienna. My trade.

Salvator. If in sheer merriment I've given offence,
I pray your pardon —

Ravienna (after a pause). Salvator Rosa !
Longer I cannot bear thy wilful blindness ;
Day after day hast thou evaded me
When I would question of thy matchless art,
Thou deem'st me one acquainted with his craft,
To whom thou owest a few brief years of life;
Thou deem'st me this — no more — and yet I feel
Not all unworthy of a painter's friendship.

Salvator. Well, then, at once will 1 deal bluntly by you
I've heard you talk of painting, and have marked
Your drift — marked it unwillingly. Doubtless
Your aim has been to gratify me
By harnessing my hobby ; your tone, too,
Was pitched like one who would be thought a painter
Who, from brief bondage of apprenticeship,
Affects a master's rank.

Ravienna. Salvator !

Salvator. You speak to me of painting as you thought

OB, THE PORTRAIT OF DANAE. 295

My soul was shut to every other subject ;

Thus rating me too low — yourself too high.

Desist from an unprofitable longing :

With the profession which you ornament

Rest satisfied — shun mediocrity.
Ravienna. What if I were to be a painter also?

What if, in confidence, I now acknowledge —
Salvator (interrupting him). Suppose, Lorenzo, that I came
to you,

And said, " Good Signer, how use you the lancet,

And how are lint and bandages applied ?"

What would be the reply ?
Ravienna. Why, I should ask,

" Wherefore seek you to know ?"

Salvator. " Because I fain would play the doctor, Signor.'
Ravienna. " In what particulars are you qualified ?"
Salvator. " In none. The mystery I'd learn from you."
Ravienna (embarrassed). Why, then —
- Salvator. You'd say, " My good ingenuous Signor,

You are a painter — to your easel stick ;

Leave me the lancet — it is double-edged —

Must be long handled to be safely used.

In short, you are a painter — mind your easel."
Ravienna. Suppose a painter did not like his pencil,

Might not he profit by a new vocation ?
Salvator. That's not your case.
Ravienna. How know you ?
Salvator. It may chance

That you have theorized and liked good pictures.

Of those pursuits of which men have half-knowledge

They're oft most fond.
Ravienna. Know, then, I have attempted —
Salvator (smiling). Ah ! 'tis as I thought.
Ravienna. May I not shew you —
Salvator (drily). You'd better not.
Ravienna. Wherefore ?

296 SALVATOR ROSA;

Salvator. Hear me, ray friend :

I'd rather pine in penance than offend you j
Upon this point I know you're sensitive;
Yet on this point I would not spare even you.
Ravienna. I'll run the risk.
Salvator. Give over, good Lorenzo ;
Put it not to the proof. I can believe
Your natural talent, and your ready pencil :
I fear that we have met to your misfortune j
Your blood is stirred by my celebrity —
The lustre of a laurel coronet —
The outward glare of life. What is that life ?
Its glories, like the rainbow's, shine through tears.
Look to those envied men — Guido, Da Vinci,
And Correggio— yea, to Raffael himself—
Behold even me — if, in that dazzling list,
My name may be included — what hare been
Our fates, save a wild weary voyaging
In search of a fair shore that flies us still.
Ravienna. Nay — nay— ye have attained it.
Salvator. Come — no more :

I am grieved at this. You do not dream how vain
Is the devotion in art's sanctuary j
Its light, alluring like the stars of Heaven,
Whose sapphire thrones poor mortals ne'er may reach.
O weary is the painter's pilgrimage !
If thou hast nerve to brave its toils and dangers —
If thou can'st smile at waspish Envy's sting —
See Malice stab the children of thy mind
With an envenomed poinard, and yet feel
Light-bosomed, as the merry bird that sings
In the sun's golden portal, all regardless
Of owls that blink beneath — then, only then,
Thou mayst produce thy picture.
Ravienna. 'T will appear.

OR, THE PORTRAIT OF DANAE. 297

Enter CALMARI.

Calmari (putting in his head at the door). Does not the
illustrious painter, Salvator Rosa, honour this house with his
presence ?

Salvalor (jocularly). I am that illustrious painter — who art
thou ?

Calmari. Andrea del Calmari, Director of the Academy of
San Carlo, and your profound admirer.

Salvator. To what owe I this act of condescension ?
Calmari. To a most reverent solicitude to do homage to the
genius that hath been our city's ornament for the last two
months, and to congratulate you on the recovery wherewith
it hath pleased the Virgin to answer the prayers of the lovers
of art. (He perceives Lorenzo — both seem confused.) Ha !
are you also here, my dear Doctor ?
Ravienna. Even so, my worthy Sir,
And half inclined to bless the accident
Which brought me thither. (To Salvator.) — Let me

beg of you

Not to remove the bandages too soon.
(Aside.) — Speak not of me to him, I do conjure you.
Adieu ! [Exit.

SALVATOR — CALMARI.
Calmari. Do you know that Ravienna ?
Salvator. Yes — as my surgeon — well.

Calmari. Oh! your surgeon— so. Between ourselves, let
me tell you that he is a very self-sufficient young gentleman —
obtrusive, Signer, — obtrusive.

Salvator (evasively). Pray be seated ; the object of your risit,
J take it, is important. Is 't to buy
One of my pictures ?
Calmari. In part.

Salvator (smiling). What mean you r —
Part of a picture do you come to buy ?

298 SALVATOR ROSA;

Calmari. No — no — not so ; you are merry, most renowned
professor : I shall not be contented with a fragment from your
divine hand ; I must have a whole, charming, highly- finished
work — a treat for the divinities who preside at the festivities
of art. "Pis that I long to purchase.

Salvntor. Well, if thou'lt freely pay, I'll freely sell.

Calmari. Pay ! thou shall find me munificent — thou shall
see what arrant liars they are who call me miserly. But to
purchase and to pay is not all. You must also — it's an odd
idea — exceeding odd —

Salvator. Out with it.

Calmari. You are aware that the prizes at the Academy are
to be distributed to-morrow ?

Salvator. Yes j the best painting wins five hundred crowns ;
The next two hundred. I have been at work,
Despatched a finished picture yesterday,
And soon shall singjinale o'er another.

Calmari. Capital! I'm here in good time!

Salvator. Then you're disposed to be a purchaser ?

Calmari. Ay, of that very painting.

Salvator. Which painting ?

Calmari. The same you intend for the candidateship.

Salvator. You have not learned the subject.

Calmari. No matter — I'll take my chance.

Salvator. 'Tis a blind bargain — a cat in a bag.

Calmari (significantly). Ay ! if you will but promise lo
conceal the cat's parentage !

Salvator. How's this ? — explain yourself.

Calmari. Why, as it were thus : — I wish both to possess
the work, and the credit of authorship.

Salvator. What, Signer ! do I comprehend aright —
Would you be deemed the painter of my picture ?

Calmari (nodding confidentially). Exactly so.

Salvator. But you yourself art noted in the art;
Then wherefore masquerade in robes of mine ?

Calmari. Look you, Salvator. True, as you say, I have some

OB, THE PORTRAIT OF DANAE. 299

pretensions ; that my enemies must admit. I have a painter's
eye — I am not to be deceived by showy colours, nor misled
by mere name — can judge of the drawing to a nicety. Still,
friend, my execution lags behind my conception ; I cannot
embody my designs ; I feel all the essentials of excellence, yet
want the hand — the hand, Salvator. The world goes well
with me, and Florence registers me among her citizens of best
repute j but that which we have not, often seems more desira-
ble than all that we have j and to me fortune's favours are
nothing without the name of an artist. Let me gain it and I
am happy !

Salvator. You rate it much too highly — bear in mind
How little 't will avail, unless supported
By further proofs of skill.

Caiman. Give me the honour, and a fig for consequences!
Twenty times have I tried to break this business to you j but
your unlucky accident has delayed it till the eleventh hour.
Be persuaded, most excellent master. Let me have the
picture.

Salvator. To satisfy

An idle vanity! I answer, no !
Calmari. I do entreat you —
Salvator. I will not do it — I am resolute.
Calmari. Name your own price.

Salvator. You cannot buy me. What's your gold to me !

Calmari (hesitating). There's another motive may, perhaps —

Salvator. What is't? What motive bring you after gold ?

Calmari. Why, Signer, possibly you know that report—

which useth strange licence with the fairest reputation — hath

charged me with two things — namely, loving money, and

loving a maid. In these cases the half is usually correct— so

it is in the present. Enamoured of my ducats I am not ; but

in love I verily am. You may smile; in love I am — ay, and

far more truly than your hot youths of nineteen — with my

beautiful ward.

300 SALVATOR ROSA;

Salvator (surprised). But what connects your passion with
my picture ?

Caiman (drawing closer his chair). You shall hear. The
deceased father of this child — she is but a mere child— was an
enthusiastic admirer of the pictorial art. Accordingly, he set
it down as a condition in his will, that of the suitors who may
propose for his daughter's hand and fortune, he only should be
selected who succeeds in obtaining the first prize in the aca-
demy of San Carlo. He wisely added the condition of my ap-
proval of him in other respects. Now, I love my pretty ward
with a sober and discreet regard ; and I therefore have come
to you, that you may bestow upon me the two-fold happiness
of obtaining a wife and a reputation.

Salvator. Blessings, I fancy, that are rarely twins

In our Italian clime.

Caiman. Hal ha! good — good. So you see my situation.
Salvator. See and sympathize. (Aside.) — Ha! a thought
strikes me !

(Aloud.) — Well, since it is so —
Caiman. You consent —

Salvator. The chief point now, Director, is the price.
Calmari, Only name it.
Salvator. Unless 'tis something of great magnitude

We may dismiss the subject.

Calmari. Great magnitude ! What do you call great mag-
nitude ?

Salvator. Mark, Signer, the extent of your demand !
You seek to have a proof of my best skill,
And with it the distinction it would earn.
In lieu of such a share of my possessions
'Tis fit I have a goodly part of your's.
Calmari. It can't be so very much ?
Salvator. You boasted of your wealth.
Calmari. Nay, I did not boast ; I meant according —
Salvator. JMean what you will,

OB, THE PORTRAIT OF DAMAE. 301

My terms are fixed at twenty thousand crowns !

Caiman (springing up}. Blessed saints ! what are vou
dreaming of ?

Salvator. Not one crown less than twenty thousand, Signor.

Calmari. You said you cared not for my gold.

Salvator. Now, could you, in your sober senses hope.
To win from me all title to my work
For some two hundred dollars ? Are you mad ?

Calmari. But, most excellent Salvator, I bear academical
honours, and can be useful to a friend.

Salvator. I'll owe my rank to compromise with no man :
As long as this right hand can raise a brush
It gives me independence. But my time
Grows precious — I must to my task again.

Calmari. Allow me to remind you —

Salvator (employed among his painting materials). No more !

Calmaii (with painful resolve). Well then, in Heaven's
name, let me have the picture ! The money's yours — let's
have it.

Salvator. 'Tis mine, until I touch the cash.

Calmari. I havn't it here — you can't expect that I should
carry twenty thousand crowns in my pocket ? Twenty thou-
sand crowns !

Salvator. Go fetch it then.

Calmari. But if the picture, (which, I admit, is highly im-
probable,) should not obtain the first prize —

Salvator. Why then our bargain's void.

Calmari. Well, I'm content. (Sighing.) — Twenty — thou-
sand— crowns ! What a prodigious price !

Salvator. You will receive prodigious value for it.
Pray is your young ward very beautiful ?

Calmari. A simple creature; well enough suited to a person
whose experience teaches him to bear with the weakness of
vouth. You shall see her — after we are married. — No man's
eye has looked upon her yet, save mine. This world's a
wicked world — you know it is.

D D

302 SALVATOR ROSA;

Salvator. Why, yes; I know a little of its pranks. —

Go fetch the cash.

Caiman (bows, and when at the door turns back). One
thing I had forgotten, worthy Salvator. Touching the first
prize of five hundred crowns, if the picture be successful —
Salvator. If so, the prize is yours.

Caiman. Ay ; but there will still remain above nineteen
thousand ! — nineteen thousand crowns ! [Exit.

Salvator. Ha ! ha ! I little thought he'd give such pay-
meut.

Vile dotard ! I'll repay him in a coin
Shall make his meanness current throughout Florence.
What ! does he think I come a broker here
To lend myself for lucre to a lie ?
To barter my untainted evergreen
For the pale dross that cumbers his old chests ?
Ohow 1 loathe these base antiquities !
Who, perched upon their frowsy money-bags,
Would play the vulture with the soaring mind,
And pounce upon the bleeding heart of love !
Calmari, thou shall live to rue our compact,
Or else I am no painter, but a priest !

[Goes to the table and inspects his materials.

Enter RAVIENNA with a picture.
Ravienna. Salvator, here's the painting —
Salvator (busy at the table). Place it down —

I'll throw a glance upon it by-and-bye.
Ravienna. I'll set it on the easel ?

[Ravienna adjusts it on the easel, so that the subject

is unseen by the audience.
Salvator. Where you will. —

Tell me, Lorenza, wherefore you forbade
Me to discourse of you to old Calmari ?
Ravienna. He guards the gate of my Hesperides ;

Debars me from his ward — my lovely Laura.
Salvator. You know the ladv then 1

OB, THE PORTRAIT OF DANAE. 303

Ravienna. Know and adore. — We have met daily for the
last six months.

Salrator. How is that possible ? — I'm told no eye
Has seen her save her guardian's.

Ravienna. So he thinks —

My eyes have gazed upon her ne'ertheless.

Salvator. Ha ! how was that accomplished ?

Ravienna. You shall hear.

It may be some ten months since, called to bleed

The old Director, I beheld her first.

'Twas only for a moment — scarce had she

Appeared, than he, regardless of his arm,

Fresh from incision, pushed her from the room. —

Transfixed I stood by her surpassing beauty,

When, keenly eying me, Calmari said,

" Doctor, no further service I'll require,

Thou hast my thanks — to Heaven I trust the rest."

I took my leave j but ever from that hour

My soul, impatient, longed to be with Laura.

By day and night I hovered near her dwelling: —

Her Argus, baffling all my fond attempts,

Mocked me with jibes and sneers.

Salvator. This then accounts

For his dismay at your rencounter here.

Ravienna. Chance was at last propitious to my wish.—
Lingering one day within the great saloon
Of the Academy, I saw Calmari
Peep cautious through the curtain ; when he caught
My figure, he advanced, in wrath demanding
What kept me there so late. I hastened off,
And he secured the door, at which I placed
A curious ear, detained by a sw«et voice.
I bribed the porter, and when all were gone,
Re-entered the saloon :^the anti-room
Contains two niches, as you know j in these,
Modelled in wax, and dressed in true costume,

DD2

304 SALVATOB ROSA ;

Are figures of distinguished painters ; one —
The famous Cimabue — I soon displaced j
And, making free with his long beard and gown,
Became the tenant of his pedestal.

Salvator. O admirable !

Ravienna. A half-hour had elapsed —
Again Calmari entered, looked around,
Made fast the door, retired, then came back,
And with him — who do you suppose, Salvator ? —
She, the queen planet of my bosom's night !
He brought her there till he received some strangers
When left alone with her, I almost fainted ! —
Quitting the niche, I threw off the disguise,
Declared my name, and passion, and perceived
No reason to despair. In that saloon,
Where the old man's suspicion daily brings her,
To shun obtrusive eyes, we daily meet.
But the old fellow plots to have her hand j
And much I fear she never can be mine,
Although in modesty I feel she loves me.

Salvator. And, doubtless, no love lost ?

Ravienna. I'd die for her !

Salvator. So it would seem, for you have quite forgot
Your picture, and the majesty of art.

Ravienna. You mock me.

Salvator. No, by Cupid ! let us see it.

[Approaches the easel, but is detained by Ravienna.

Ravienna. Nay, not at present ; don't inspect it yet,
You are not in the mood ! the light is bad,
And life and death upon your judgment hang, —
My life or death, Salvator !

Salvator. Pshaw ! good wine

Needs no bush ! A truce to words !

[He steps to the Picture, on which having fixed his

eye, he exclaims, in a tone of astonishment.']
Did you paint this ?

OB, THE PORTRAIT OF DANAE. 305

Ravienna. I did, Salvator ! Ah ! it does not please you !
Salvator (lost in admiration of the picture) . Please me,

Indeed ! You wrought this, Ravienna !

You painted this divine comminglement

Of earthly beauty and celestial love —

The bashful resignation of those lips !

The twilight radiance of those starry eyes !

This rose, soft yielding to the god of day !

If this Danae be indeed your work,

Then truly you're a painter, a great painter.
Ravienna. You jest, ray friend, O, surely, you but jest.
Salvator. Look here, Lorenzo, on this work of mine,

This I intended for my prize performance :

'Tis a good painting, but it must not hence,

Your diamond robs my pearl of its lustre.
Ravienna. If this be irony, the sport is cruel.
Salvator. I challenge thee, Lorenzo, by that art

In which thou hast most nobly graduated,

In unpretending frankness to declare,

If of our rival works thine be not first ?
Ravienna. In mine, I do confess, I almost think

The features have a finer character ; —

For that there's special reason.
Salvator. Finer, indeed !

The art through me salutes you as a master:

San Carlo's dull academicians

May blindfold be to your exalted merit ;

But trust me that all Italy shall know

And prize your value : it shall be my care.
Ravienna. If I have talent, 'tis the plant of love.
Salvator. The plant is goodly, and it should be nourished.

Who, save myself, has seen this picture ?
Ravienna. None.

In sooth, it wears the portraiture of Laura,

My own dear Laura, and could not be shewn.

DD3

306 SALVATOR ROSA ;

Salvator. Your Laura, glorious ! let me have the picturt,

To use it as I please.
Ravienna. At once 'tis yours.
Salvator. Tell none you painted it, not even Laura.

Is she aware that you have tried the art ?
Ravienna. No j— till I had your judgment on the work

I would not say that I had touched a pencil.

Aspirants such as I should keep their secret,

Till they have conquered mediocrity.
Salvator. Give me thy hand, Lorenzo, I do know thee ;

Thou dost not chase the hubbies of conceit.

Into this room ; for I expect a call [bewildered.

From one thou must not see. [To Ravienna, who stands

I pray thee in.

Ravienna. I hardly think I shall survive this day !
Salvator (kindly pushing him). Thou'lt be too late, thou
silly swain go in ! [Ravienna goes into the room.

Salvator. Now to contrive good fortune for the lovers :

I'll sell the old fox Ravienna's picture :

He shall believe it mine. Yes, that will do. —

Here comes the stripling of my fame's adoption.

SALVATOR — CALMARI, with a Bag of Money in his hand.
Caiman. I bring you the money. There may, perhaps, be
some thirty crowns lacking, which shall be hereafter accounted
for. (Salvator locks the door). What are you doing ?

Salvator. No witnesses are needed to our bargain.

Calmari. True, true, your precaution is wise.

Salvator (leading Calmari to the easel, on which the Por-
trait of Danae is standing). Signer, behold your picture !

Calmari (gazing on it in confusion and astonishment). What's
this ? — what's this ? — How came you by that portrait ?

Salvator. It is mine.

Calmari. The mouth— the eye — the arm — Laura— Danae —
it is a delusion of the devil !

OR, THE PORTRAIT OF DANAE. 307

Salvator. You seem disposed to quarrel with the picture.
Calmari. Thou delicious resemblance ! I could clasp thee
to ray arms ! 'Tis worth a million — aye, a million !
Salvator. I'm glad to hear it — you're a connoisseur.
Calmari (seizing it). I've paid you for it twenty thousand
crowns.

Salvator. Minus thirty.

Calmari. How longingly she looks towards the golden
shower !

Salvator. A pretty woman !

And a shower of gold — I have hit your taste.
Calmari (continuing to view the picture) . Laura ! Danae !
(Aside). Had any eye beheld her — yet 'tis a marvellous like-
ness 1 Tell me, Salvator, on your conscience, do you know
the original of that portrait ?
Salvator. No, indeed.
Calmari. All ideal ?
Salvator. I have already answered.
Calmari. You acknowledge that it is now mine ?
Salvator. I do.

Culmari. And I have your promise never to avow yourself
its author ?

Salvator. My pledge of honour's freely your's,

Never to name that picture as my own.
Calmari. Take then your money, and accept my thanks.
Salvator. Illustrious Director, fare thee well.

[Exit Calmari hurriedly.

SALVATOR — RAVIENNA.
Ravienna. What have you been about?
Salvator. Selling dame Danae.
Ravienna. What, to Calmari ?
Salvator. Keep my counsel — hush !

The picture you transferred I sold to him.
speed to the saloon, where candidates
the sealed scrolls that show outside

308 SALVATOR ROSA

The painter's subject, and within his name.

You father Danae, as Calmari will.

At the election, when the scrolls are opened j

Announce yourself her veritable parent,

And bury the intriguing cormorant

Beneath the shame that he so richly merits.
Ravienna. But then remember he is Laura's guardian !

A jest so bitter will he e'er forgive >

Better resign the picture and the fame

If he'll resign his ward.
Salvator. That must not be ; I will not suffer it !

Florence must know the son she has in thee ! —

A score of Lauras shall I easier find,

Than one such picture as the Danae.
Ravienna. Hush, bold blasphemer ! hush ! —

(Salvator forces him off.)

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

ACT THE SECOND SCENE THB FIRST.

Anti- Room of the Academy-Saloon. — In the centre a curtain
covers the wide and open folding doors leading to the Saloon.
In the foreground, to the right, a door leading into the Di-
rector's house. In the walls of the apartment are seen two
niches, each covered with a curtain. Over that to the right
is written, " Cimabue ;" to the left, " Leonardo da Finci/'

LAURA — RAVIENNA, — the latter in the dress of old Cimabue
without the beard.

Laura (to Ravienna, who is kneeling at her feet). Rise, I
intreat thee, dear and ever doubting.

Ravienna. Not till thy lips again assure me, Laura,
That neither art, nor threat, used by Calmari,
Shall ever shake thy promise to be mine.

OR, THE PORTRAIT OF DANAE. 309

Laura. In faith 'tis time, Lorenzo, you were gone, —
You grow as teazing as my ancient guardian,
Who sometimes kneels and preaches of his flame
By the dull hour.

Ravienna (rising"). I'm happy in thy smiles,
Incomparably happy ! ne'er till thou
Hadst shed the lustre of thy love around me,
Knew I that life had joys. Sweet is the past, —
More sweet will be the future !
Laura (impatiently). Very true;

Yet if you would not cloud our pleasant hopes,
You'll hence immediately: — my guardian comes
This day the prizes are distributed
At the Academy.

Ravienna (in seeming surprise). This very day ?
Laura. Yes, 'tis strange you knew it not.
Ravienna. How should I ?

Laura (sighing). Ah ! — I had forgot — you are no painter !
Ravienna. Whence comes that sigh, dear Laura ? Is thy

heart

So much a slave to art's grand witchery,
As to lament the painter Ravienna
Does not now stand before thee ?
Laura. What thou art

I knew thou wert, when first my love was thine —
How true I've been becomes thee best to say—
And if J sometimes do regret, Lorenzo,
That thy young genius was not wed to art
Thou must not blame me — for my walk has been
From infancy among its monuments ;
My father, early-lost, oft tried the pencil,
And almost rivalled the far- honoured masters
Whose works he bought and worshipped ; later days
Placed me with one distinguished for his taste;
Batched aud secluded like a convent's inmate,
The mystic silence of the pictured walls

310 SALVATOR ROSAJ

Has been to me companionship — Guido

Has wiled me with a face of sorrow, soft

As an angel's — Julio Romano,

I liked his frank and generous bearing well —

With awful revelations Angelo

Shadowed my fluttering spirit — and thou last

And greatest— thou whose faultless fancy

Was purified in Heaven's translucent wave,

Raffael, thou wert the peopler of my visions,

When they were high and holy. It were ill

In me to prove forgetful of these friends :

I've heard thyself so eloquent on art,

That I am certain nought save will was wanting

To add thy name to those whom Time reveres.

Perhaps for my sake thou wilt try thy hand ?

Ravienna (aside). How sweet to undeceive her.

Laura. Promise me —

Ravienna. Well, I will try if but to please thee, Laura !

Laura. O just to dream of thee before thine easel,
I knitting by thy side — while now and then
I peeped upon thy progress — and to see
Thee ranked among Italia's painter-kings,
To hear myself in gladsome greetings, called
" The happy wife of famous Ravienna !"
What ecstacy !

Ravienna. Yes, when it comes to that.

Laura. Courage and perseverance have wrought wonders;
Such stories from my guardian have I heard —

Ravienna. Name not that odious guardian, I beseech you !

Laura. Why shouldst thou dread him ? I am yours, yours
only.

Ravienna. My faith in thee is perfect ; still at times
Despair doth gambol with my sinking heart :
Yet why should I despair ? Perhaps even now
I'm not an hour's remove from all I wish.

Laura. Explain, Lorenzo — what is thy enigma ?

OR, THE PORTRAIT OF DANAE. 311

Ravienna. To-day, dear maid, or never, thou'lt be ruine ;
More I'm forbid to tell — yes, even to thee :
Perhays my hopes are but the glittering bubble
A passing breath destroys. Learn thus much that —

[A noise is heard at the door.

Laura (listening). Away, away! Lorenzo — here he comes.
[Ravienna runs towards the niche on the right.
Laura (picking tip the false beard Ravienna had dropped).
Here, take the beard.

[Ravienna returns hastily, and takes it.
Laura (finding another piece) . And this too!

[Ravienna is returning, when the door opens — Laura
makes a sign to him — he hastens to the niche, and
draws the curtain.

LAURA. — RAVIENNA in the niche. CALMARI in full dress.

Caiman (who on entering, observes Laura trying to hide the
piece of beard she wished to give Lorenzo). Ha! what hast
thou got there, my pretty ward ?

Laura. O, the merest trifle. Alone and tired,
I chose to switch old Leonardo's beard
For pastime, and he chanced to lose a little.

Calmari (examining the figure of Leonardo da Vinci). Me-
thinks Leonardo hath his full allowance of beard.

Laura (disconcerted, pointing at the niche where Ravienna
stands). Then it was off that foolish figure yonder.

Calmari. What off Cimabue ? (He draws the curtain—
Ravienna stands motionless.) By St. Anthony you have
shaved" him ! Poor fellow . I shall fasten it on again. Give
it to me.

Laura (who has pulled the fragment to pieces). O dear,
what have I done ? pulled it to pieces. I am so absent —
'tis of no use now !

Caiman (smiling). And are you so fond of playing with
grey hairs, most captivating Laura ?

Laura. Uncommonly.

312 SALVATOR ROSA;

Caiman. I am delighted to hear it — then may I hope to be
agreeable to thee in my old age.

Laura. You'll not have long to hope.

Calmari. Phoo ! I want some years of sixty yet, you know,
my pearl of price ! thou art singularly bewitching to-day.

Laura. And thou art most mysteriously good humoured.

Calmari. I'm thinking, rose of Florence, how thou'lt
wonder —

Laura. At what, may I inquire >

Calmari O nothing ! nothing, my lovely ward, nothing.

Laura. How well you know that I hate mystery. Speak
plain, or leave me.

Calmari. This will be a day of crowning glory to thy guar-
dian, my Laura.

Laura. To you ! What means your venerable head ?
You quite surprize me.

Calmari. Surprized, eh ? you'll be more surprized anon.
But no more, or I shall betray myself.

Laura (coaxingly). Pry thee be not close,
Ne'er so elated hast thou seemed before,
And this gay gala dress — where art thou going?

Calmari. All in good time, my pigeon of Paphos. Hast
thou ne'er heard the artist's saying, " I too am a painter !"

Laura. How, you a painter ? surely you are jesting !

Calmari (placing his hand on her mouth). Quiet those
ruby lips — the walls have ears ; yet a kiss might tempt me to
disclose the secret. Will these little rosy rebels surrender one
kiss if 1 tell thee ?

Laura. Nonsense ! a kiss, indeed ! perhaps I may— -

Calmari. Hearken then and wonder ! one of the pictures
for the prize has been painted by me.

Laura (who from time to time has been casting a glance
towards Cimabue's niche, perceives that Calmari notices it).
By you !

Calmari. Why, what ails you, child ? why look so
anxiously towards the door ?

OR, THE PORTRAIT OF DANAE. 313

Laura. I thought I heard approaching steps.
Caiman. Innocent lamb ! dread not the wolf's advance —
the old hunter guards thee.

Laura (glancing at Ravienna). Ah! wolves there are who
do evade the hunter-
Entering the peaceful dwelling in sheep's clothing.
Looking as harmless as those bearded signers,
Who note us from their niches.

Calmari. How, child ! think'st thou Calmari cannot detect
these masquerading monsters ? Ha ! ha ! trust his experi-
ence for that ! (unlocking the house door.) There, my myrtle,
go in, go in.

Laura (pointedly to Ravienna). Fare thee well !

Beloved, fare thee well !
Caiman (kissing his hand). Dear creature ! [Exit Laura.

CALMARI. — RAVIENNA in the niche.

Calmari. " Fare thee well, beloved !" enchanting sounds !
Did ye not hear them ye dumb witnesses — you, old Leonardo,
and you, most venerable Cimabue ? Such words from her
sweet lips might have warmed you into life, and caused you
to quiver with rapture on your pedestals ! Envy me, ye
demigods of art ! envy your votary, ere long to be your
brother — ere long to be the winner of the lovely Laura, and
the laurel crown ! and (looking cautiously around) both un-
earned. What matters it so that the prize be gained ? O
the delight when crowds assemble, and when the Procurator
shouts, " The Portrait of Danae wins the first prize !" And
then the ticket will be presented and opened : and lo ! Cal-
mari's name — the laurel- wreath — the five hundred crowns,
and my blushing ward will all be mine ! Hark ! there is a
bustle in the hall — they appear as if coming to the saloon.
Enter all — I shall open a way. Come in, gentlemen, and wait
upon my triumph. [He goes into the Saloon — and is seen

through the partly undrawn curtain opening the doors.

He then passes through the anti-room into the house.

E E

314 SALVATOR ROSA;

Ravienna (after a pause, stepping down and peeping through
the centre curtain). 1 must retreat now that the coast is
clear. [He hastens to the Saloon, but returns immediately

and closes the curtain.
Heavens, 'tis too late !
I hear the voice of strangers !
Perhaps this door will open to the street.

[Tries the house door, and finds it locked.
No outlet here ? Then there's no help — I'm lost !

[Persons heard approaching — Ravienna returnt to
the niche, and draws the curtain over it.

SALVATOR, RAVIENNA.

Salvator. He must be here — the porter saw him not.
(Drawing aside the curtain from Cimabue.) Ho ! there, Lo-
renzo ! art thou flesh or wax ?

Surgeon or painter — or old Cimabue ?
Ravienna (on the pedestal in the niche, visible to the audience
during the whole scene, which passes off" rapidly). Salvator, is

it you ?
Salvator. Inform me where

You've stowed yourself these two hours ?
Ravienna. Old Calmari

Kept me in durance vile.
Salvator. But who bade you

Come here on this occasion — the same day

Of the decision ? 'Tis most indiscreet.
Ravienna. Can't you contrive some method of escape ?
Salvator. I see not how, for the saloon is crowded.
Ravienna. Such a predicament is truly frightful !
Salvator. You're truly frightful ; but you're rightly served.

Suppose he sees you now, suspicion's roused ,

Your love is balked ; his punishment escaped.
Ravienna. But I've given in the scroll that names me master.
Salcator. And so has he. Should his be opened first,

Can you, in this fool's garb, advance and claim

OB, THE PORTRAIT OF DANAB. 315

Your right ? See, Laura comes ! Your case is hopeful.
Ravienna (about to jump from the pedestal) . I must escape

though it should cost my life !

Salvator (holding him back). Remain; that were the mad-
dest freak of all.

You must be secret till the very moment —
(Voice at the door). They come !
Ravienna. O Laura ! — I must go, Salvator !

[Salvator forces him back in the niche, and draws
the curtain. Cahnari enters from the house ;
perceives Salvator, and advances hastily.
Salvator. You're decked already for the laurel crown ?
Caiman. Dearest Salvator ! I swim in an ocean of bliss !
Salvator (who, throughout the scene, is fearful of the disco-
very of Ravienna). I give you joy on this important
day.
Caiman. Important, indeed, my friend, most important.

I shall at once gain honour and a wife.
Salvator. And yet preserve your caution, good Director,
That which is lightly won is lightly lost.
Your honour and your bride will both be young.
Caiman. Never fear but I shall keep them safe enough.
She will be my wife ; and a good husband looks to keep off
temptation. No duennas — no dear friends or relatives for
me : I shall protect my own property ; controul her every
glance, her every word ; ay, her very dreams. She will be
my wife 5 and where she is, there shall I be also.

Salvator. Wisely designed. But will she be contented ?
Caiman. All one for that (pointing to a paper in his hand) .
I have paid too much for this not to have something in return .
Salvator. What have you there ?

Caiman. The scroll of immortality, and the passport of
Hymen. This paper styles me painter of the portrait of Dana«.
Salvator. Wherefore not hand it in ?

Calmari. Look you, Salvator ; a wise man will not trust
himself to accident. Suppose the picture fails in gaining ^

E E 2

316 SALVATOR ROSA;

first prize, it becomes yours again, and I get back my money j
but what if, through some imprudence or some malicious
trick, my name should be discovered in the scroll ? I shall
therefore retain the paper until the prize picture is proclaimed.
What think you of that, eh ?

Salvator. You are unrivalled in dexterity. — (In a louder

tone to Calmari, but intended for Ravienna.}
Keep fast to your position, and be sure
You do not risk detection.

Caiman. Detection is impossible if you are silent, and that,
of course, you will be. I have your word — you have my cash.
Give me your hand. What a dear little commodity is money!
In this world every thing may be had for money, from the
hand of a virgin to the mitre of a pope.

Salvator (with restrained contempt). Not for mere money

have I done you service.
As sure as I'm the painter of the picture,
I think you are a noble-minded man.

Enter the PROCURATOR through the centre curtain.

Procurator. The examination, Signers, is about to commence.

Calmari. I shall be with you in a twinkling. In the mean-
time let the voting begin. (To Procurator retiring.) — Stay —
another word. I wish you to invite the several artists within
to a festival I propose holding to-day.

Procurator (astonished'). How! a festival ! — you, noble
Director ?

Calmari (smiling and whispering). I intend giving my ward
in marriage to him who wins the first prize. So proceed,
I'll follow you. [Exit Procurator.

Salvator (aside). Would he were gone !

Calmari. You are somewhat disturbed, Salvator ?

Salvator. I'm wishing it were past.

Calmari. Remember, my friend, to keep a close tongue.

Salvator. 1 shall fulfil my promise. Meantime leave me —
Quiet I love — we can confer hereafter.

OR, THE PORTRAIT OF DANAE. 317

Caiman. Be it as thou wilt. If it should please thee to be
a guest at my marriage feast, thou shall be heartily welcome.
Some other day thou mayest, perchance, be invited to paint
me such another picture, of course at a different price. For
your present good luck you may thank the charms of my
ward more than the attractions of Danae. My bride will make up
for my prodigality. Adieu, noble brother ! [Exit into the saloon.

SALVATOB — RAVIKNNA.

Halvator (looking after Calmari). Truly, thou dost remind
me of my brother, thou fool and rogue !
(To Ravienna, opening the cur tain), Come out, and speedily ;

The business has began. (Ravienna leaves the niche.) —

Hast heard his prating?
Ravienna. Yes, every syllable. He keeps his scroll —

Mine will be found — and then, Heaven help us all

When he discovers how he's been betrayed

To aid his rival both in fame and love !
Salvator. That's not enough ; the daw shall be unplumed ;

His fraud exposed before the multitude.
Ravienna. You're too severe ; consider his relation

To her I woo. Losing his ward and fame

Is forfeiture enough. Let us be silent

About the bargain, and fling back his money.

Enter LAURA/TOW the house.

Laura. How ! you still here, Lorenzo ? (Perceiving Sal-
vator, she steps back.)

Salvator. Lady fair,

Am I so terrible that you retreat
Abashed before my preseuce ? I've a friend
In this good company, I deem will give
Me willing passport to your kind opinion.

Ravienna. Dearest Laura, respect this generous man,
Treasure him in your best remembrance.
We owe him more than I have breath to reckon.
£ E 3

318 SALVATOR ROSA;

His name involves a spell will stir your veins —
Salvator Rosa !

{Laura, in joyful admiration, acknowledges Salva-
tor's salutation, and looks on in astonishment as he
smilingly gives his hand to Ravienna.
Salvator. Seems it then so strange

One artist should touch fingers with another ?
Laura. And is he then an artist ? — Ravieuna !
Salvator. Lady, let us consult the oracle.

{He leads her to the centre curtain, which he opens,
so that the audience can see the interior of the Sa-
loon. On the platform is a green covered table,
surmounted by two vases. The members are ar-
ranged round the table. At the head is seated
Calmari; at the foot the Procurator, with a paper
in his hand. The Procurator exclaims " The
prize is awarded to the Portrait of Danae, painted

by

[Calmari rises quickly, and presents his paper.
Procurator (bowing politely, and pointing to another in his
hand). Noble Director, thanks; the paper's here already. —
(He breaks the seal, and reads) — Painted by LORENZO RAVI-
ENNA !

[A flourish of trumpets and drums. Calmari shrinks

back thunderstruck — crushes the paper in his bo~
som, and retreats from the assembly. Salvator
closes the curtain of the Saloon.
Laura. Lorenzo !
Lorenzo (embracing her) . Laura !
Salvator. Pray retire my friends —
The wolfs unchained, let me first meet his rage.
[Laura and Ravienna retire to the back-ground.
[Calmari, his lips trembling convulsively, his eye
glaring, his hair in disorder, rushes breathlessly for-
ward through the curtain. On perceiving Salvator,
he springs forward, and seizes him by the arm.

OR, THE PORTRAIT OF DANAE. 319

Salvator frees himself from his grasp with dignity,
and steps back.

Caiman (faltering). Where is my money, deceiver?
Salcator (seriously and impressively). Thou the deceiver art,
and thy deception has been most justly punished. (In an under-
tone). Take advice

Director, varnish over this foul work,
Thou'rt safe as yet, thy dealings undivulged ;
Still it remains with me to hold that paper, —
That paper, Signor, hidden in thy breast (snatches at it),
Up to a scorning world. Chafe no more,
But thank the clemency of Ravienna
That I forbear to summon witnesses.
Calmari (with smothered rage). Where is my money ?
Salvator. In my safe custody. If you'll agree
To what you can't prevent, 'tis your's again.
Calmari. Your commands, Signor, your commands —
Salvator. The painter of the picture is my friend,
And mutual ties unite your ward and him.
Obey the will, which makes the lady his
Who wins the prize, as you yourself have told me.
Calmari (striking his forehead). Fool! fool! that I was.
But in that will there is also the clause, if I, Andrea del Cal-
mari, " have nothing to gainsay." Now I do object ; I do —
Salvator. What, hast thou not informed the Procurator

That he who won the prize should have thy ward ?
Calmari. Entrapped on all sides !

Salvator. I'll tell no tales, and render back your money,
If you will but be wise my noble brother ;
I swear it.

Calmari (wiping his forehead). Where is your worthy
friend ?

Salvator (pointing to Ravienna and Laura). Yonder, so
please you, Signor.

Calmari (confounded). Ha! and in what costume! then it
was he that lost the beard 5 O traitors ! ( To Ravienna).

320 SALVATOR ROSA.

Away, away ; should he be found here in that state, I am be-
trayed. They are in search of you — away, away (pointing
entreatingly to the door) here, out this way.
Salvator. Stop, trust to me, Lorenzo.

[Enter the PROCURATOR with a train of Painters and

Spectators from the Saloon.

Procurator (a laurel-wreath in his hand). Where's the
painter ?

Salvator (leading forward Ravienna, who has just taken off
his false beard). Behold him here.
Omnes. Long life to Ravienna !
Salvator. I see you're struck by his habiliments ;
In truth our friend did modestly appear
Unknown on this occasion. In that niche
He took his stand, unconscious of his fortune.
Procurator (to Calmari, giving him the wreath). Noble Di-
rector, it remains for you

To twine around the honoured master's brow
The ever- verdant tribute to his skill.

Calmari (scarcely able to contain himself). With joyful
heart.

Salvator (looking stedfastly at Calmari). And now, Director,
one proud action more

To consummate the pleasures of the day.
Calmari (with half-subdued agony). Approach Donna Laura.
Having all witnessed the triumph of our newly-discovered
relative in the noble art, so let all testify that I place the hand
of my ward in his — impressing on his palm the laurel- wreath.
[Ravienna and Laura stand hand in hand in the foreground
with looks of gratitude towards Salvator Rosa, who views the
scene with emotion; Calmari stands behind Ravienna, and
places the laurel on his head ; the Procurator and Spectators
form the back-ground of the picture. As Ravienna receives
the wreath, a flourish of drums and trumpets in the Saloon.
The Cur tain falls.

THE

LIFE OF A MUSICIAN.

A HUMOUROUS SKETCH.

THE

DISCORDANT HARMONISTS.

A DREAM.

BY CARL MARIA VON WEBER.

THE

LIFE OF A MUSICIAN;

A HUMOUROUS SKETCH.

THOU must depart ; forward — forward ! The artist's sphere
of action is in the world. What avails the gracious favour of a
scientific Maecenas, extended in payment for a tune reluctantly
furnished to suit his stupid and heartless verses ? What, the
boisterous applause of the multitude on parade, for a successful
march? What, alas! even the friendly squeeze of the hand
by a pretty neighbour, as the reward of an inspiring waltz ?
Forward ! Try thy genius among strangers : and if thou canst
thereby give satisfaction to men of judgment, and advance
their knowledge of the science, then return home and enjoy
the fruits of thy industry.

I immediately packed up my instruments together, embraced
the few individuals whom I counted as friends, requested two
or three introductions to persons residing in the next little
town, and commenced my journey in the humble stage-coach,
which the condition of my purse very strongly recommended.
Now, I don't know whether other people feel as I do in a
coach ; its rumble puts all my thinking faculties into activity
— a world of ideas arises within me, and my fellow-passengers,
meantime — their lips, of course, sealed by wit/ unsocial manner —
appear the stupidest set of fellows imaginable ! The thousand
objects, also, that successively meet the eye, and float by it,
tend to increase the number, and modify the shape of my sen-
sations ; one theme supersedes another ; and whilst, perhaps,

324 THE LIFE OF A MUSICIAN.

I am in fancy beating out an infernally complicated fugue —
all on a sudden a rondo theme will start up, and in turn be
supplanted by a funeral march !

On arriving at X , a pretty little place, so powerfully

did I feel the mania of composition, that I resolved on sojourn-
ing there for a time, in order to gratify it, "A timid simple-
ton alone," cried I, " suffers himself to be dejected !" so hum-
ming the air of Pedrillo, in " the Abduction" (Die Entfuhrung) ,
1 sought the refreshment of my couch, full of buoyant hope
respecting my intended concert.

On the following morning, I waited on Mr. von Y — , of
the musical taste of whose family I had heard much, and who
had the greatest influence in the town.

He saluted me with, " Ah, welcome ! I am very h^ppy to
make your acquaintance, for I have been written to most fa-
vourably of you." (I bowed.) " You, of course, know my
newest Sonatas ?"

I looked embarrassed. " I really cannot say — that I"

" But," interrupted he, " the Quartett ?"

" I am particularly sorry,*' muttered I, colouring, " but I
do not remember" —

" Well," said my host, lifting up his eyes, as if in astonish-
ment, " at all events, the Caprices you must be familiar with —
at least/' added he, after a trifling pause, "if you are at all
conversant with scientific literature, and read the journals."

I felt that this series of question and answer must be put a
stop to, and plunged at once into the desperate confession,
" I was ashamed of my ignorance, but was positively unaware
of the fact that Mr. von Y — composed."

His countenance fell, and lowering simultaneously the tone
of his voice, he said " My dear friend, I am sorry, but under-
standing that you propose to give concerts, I must candidly
assure you that you have little chance of doing any good j the
people of this place, Sir, are as critical as the Viennese, and —
(here a new thought seemed to strike him) — unless, indeed, you
could prevail on my daughter to sing."

THE LIFE OF A MUSICIAN. 325

At this moment a young female entered the room, whose
figure and general appearance were provocative of observation,
not unmingled with mirth. Let the reader picture to himself
a diminutive creature, burdened with a tremendously large
head, covered with shaggy black hair, and possessing a voice
which resembled a pitch- note of the time of Aretin, and
screeched such tones that my ears enjoyed sensations similar to
those produced by scratching on a pane of glass, — but I am
anticipating. The delicate daughter threw her spider-like
arms round her papa, who introduced me, and said, " You
must sing to him a part of your grand scenaj you know how
greatly I admire it."

The young cantatrice eyed me from top to toe, with a pa-
tronizing air, and then, turning again to her father, " You
know, papa," said she, striving at the same time to get up a
cough, "how very hoarse I am " (here she began a strained
croaking). " Good heavens ! you yourself hear in what bad
order my voice is." I began to be alarmed j but, suppressing
my repugnance, and perceiving that interest prompted my doing
the polite thing, I interposed, and begged that the lady would
honour me by singing a few bars.

The condescending female — in heart, apparently nothing loth,
—complied, and sat down to the piano-forte accordingly, where,
after a few powerfully -struck chords, and an unfortunate slip-
shod run through the semitones, she screamed a bravura of
Scarletti's. I contributed my due quota of admiration, and oc-
casionally tried to get a peep at the notes over her unruly
shoulders; and the performance being completed, the lady's
mother entered, and set up a shout of admiration, compared to
which, the noise of an Allegro of Wranitz is but as the rustling
of a few leaves. " My daughter, Sir," said she, " is a true
musical genius: the talent she possesses is astonishing ! and
although she has only begun to study music since her thirteenth
year, she has frequently corrected the stadt-musikant (musi-
cian in ordinary ta the town), and also plays most beautifully
on the Strati I- Harmonica. Go, fetch it, Polly, it is a charming

326 THE LIFE OF A MUSICIAN.

instrument!" The agonies of death seized on me, in anticipa-
tion of this fiery ordeal ; and I could only stammer out, that
that instrument was peculiarly adapted to ddagios.

"True," said the pertinacious mamma, "so my dear, pray
play us the Bird-catcher."

I could contain myself no longer : by a strange revulsion of
feeling, I felt irresistibly impelled to laugh ; and the suppressed
titter altered in a moment the entire scene. The members of
the " musical family " whispered each other : I caught the
words " utterly destitute of taste !" and in the course of five
minutes I found myself quite alone : the father was called
away upon business, the mother was obliged to retire to the
kitchen, and Signora filia, complaining of head-ache, scam-
pered away to her boudoir. I drew breath, as though my lungs
were obliged to supply the bellows of the Westminster organ,
determined in endeavouring to propitiate no more musical fa-
milies, and walked directly to the stadt-musikant to engage the
necessary performers.

THE

DISCORDANT HARMONISTS,

A DREAM.

COMPLETELY satisfied with the performance of a symphony
which I had just heard, as well as with an excellent dinner, I
fell asleep, and beheld myself, in a drearn, suddenly transported
back into the concert room, where 1 found the whole of the
instruments in motion, holding grand council under the pre-
sidency of the sweet- breathed hautboy. To the right, a party
had arranged themselves, consisting of a viol d'mour, viol di
gamba, flute, &c., each sounding melancholy complaints as
to the degeneracy of the present era of music : to the left,
the lady hautboy was haranguing a circle of clarionets and
flutes, both young and old, with and without keys ; and in
the centre was the courtly piano- forte, attended by several
graceful violins, who had formed themselves after Pleyel and
Gironetz. The trumpets and horns formed a drinking con-
clave in a corner; while the pikkolo-flutes and flageolets
occasionally filled the whole room with their naive, childish
strains. All appeared very comfortable, when, on a sudden,
the morose contra-basso, accompanied by a couple of kindred
violoncellos, hurst into the room, and threw himself so pas-
sionately into the director's chair, that the piano- forte, to-
gether with all the catgut instruments present, involuntarily
sounded in accord, from terror.

" It were enough" he exclaimed, " to play the devil with
me, if _such compositions were to be given daily : here am 1

328 THE DISCORDANT HARMONIST'S.

just come from the rehearsal of a symphony of one of our
newest composers ; and, although, as is known, I possess a
pretty powerful nature, I could scarce hold it out longer, the
strings of my body ran a risk of being torn for ever ! If any
more such work goes on, I will positively turn kit, and gain ray
livelihood by the performance of Miiller and Kauer's dances !"

First Violoncello (wiping the perspiration from his
brow). " Certainly, old dad is right ; / am so fatigued, that,
since the operas of Cherubini, I don't recollect experiencing
any such echauffement !

All the instruments together. " Explain, Explain !"

Second Violincello. " What ? the symphony ? It is inexpli-
cable and unendurable. According to the principles which my
divine master, Romberg, instilled into me, the production we
have just executed is a sort of musical monster, which can
boast of no one merit, save originality ! Why, it makes us
climb up aloft like the violins."

First Violincello (interrupting him pettishly). "As if we
could not do it as well !"

A Violin. " Let each class keep within its due bounds.1'

Pass Viol. "Ay, or what will remain for me to do, who
stand between the two ?"

First Violincello. " Oh, you are out of the question ! Your
ability is only to support us, or to produce a few quavers and
turns, as, for instance, in the Pelican; but as to what regards
fine tone —

Oboe. "None can compete with me in that respect.'1

Clarionet. " Madam, you will surely allow us to notice our
talents."

Flute. " Yes, for marches and festivals."

Bassoon. " Who resembles the divine tenore more than I ?"

Horn. " Why you surely won't pretend to so much delicacy
and power as I have ?"

Piano-forte (with dignity). " And what is all this, com-
pared to the body of harmony possessed by me ? Whilst you
are severally parts of a whole, / am all-sufficient."

THE DISCORDANT HARMONISTS. 329

All the other* (vociferously). "Hold your tongue! you
cannot even hold a single note.''

Trumpet* and Kettle-Drums (noisily). "Silence! hear
ut. What, pray, would be the effect of any composition with-
out our assistance? Unless we spoke, there would be no
one to applaud."

Flute*. " Noite delights vulgar souls ; the true sublime
consists in warbling."

First Violin. " And but for my conducting, in what a mess
would the whole of you be !"

Contra Basso. " But I flatter myself I sustain the entire
effect; all would otherwise be dull and vapid."

Omnes (all starting up). "I alone am the soul, without me,
no harmony would be worth hearing."

At this moment, the Maitre-de-chapelle entered the room,
and the several instruments alarmed, for they knew whose
powerful hand could call forth and combine their powers, sud-
denly went out of tune !

" What !" cried he; "quarrelling again ? The Symphonia
Eroica of Beethoven, is about to be performed; and every
one who can move key or member will then be called upon."
" Oh '. anything but that !*' exclaimed they.
"Rather," said the bass-viol, " give us an Italian opera;
there, one may occasionally nod."

"Nonsense!" replied the Maitre-de-chapelle. "Do you
imagine that, in these enlightened times, when all rules
in art are neglected, a composer will, out of compli-
ment to you, cramp his divine, gigantic, high-flying fancies ?
Regularity and perspicuity are no longer studied, as by the old
masters, Gliick, Handel, and Mozart. No! hear the elements
of the most recent symphony that I have received from
Vienna, and which may serve as a prescription for all future
ones. First, a slow movement, full of short, broken ideas,
no one of which has the slightest connexion with the other :
every ten minutes or so, a few striking chords ! — then a
muffled rumbling on the kettle-drums, and a mysterious

F F3

330 THE DISCORDANT HARMONISTS.

passage or two for the bass-viols, all worked up with a due
proportion of pauses and stops. Finally, when the audience
has just entered into the spirit of the thing, and would as soon
expect the devil himself, as an Allegro — a raging tempo, in
managing which, the principal consideration is, to avoid fol-
lowing up any particular idea, thus leaving more for the

hearer to make out himself "

Whilst the learned Maitre-de-chapelle was thus declaim-
ing, suddenly a string of the guitar, which in reality hung
over ray head, snapped, and I awoke, to my no small vexation,
since I was in the high road toward becoming a great com-
poser of the new school.

ARDINGHELLO;

OR,

AN ARTIST'S RAMBLES IN SICILY.

A FRAGMENT,

BY HEINSE.

ARDINGHELLO;

OR,

AN ARTIST'S RAMBLES IN SICILY.

Genoa, November, 16 — .
Dear ,

AFTER quitting the fertile valley of Lombardy, through which
a hundred streams meander, and which has not its equal in the
whole world, I mounted the wild, bare, and rocky Appenines,
and lastly, ascending by the Bochette, the reviving breezes
playing around me, that the locks surrounding my hot tem-
ples flittered in them, I beheld at my feet the vast and deep
sea glittering amidst the sweet rays of the evening sun. Hea-
vens ! How did it all impress my heart and my mind ! Oh,
how could I then, like the Thetis in Homer, with one spring
from Olympus, have precipitated myself into the eternal ocean,
to thus cool the memory of my sorrows !

I remained all night with an old shepherd, the chronicle of
the neighbourhood, and saw the stars rise and set, and the eye
of the world again appear and enthrone itself over Italy, with
all its inhabitants, this paradise of creation, from the com-
mencement of time.

The next morning I descended, and took my siesta in a
charming village upon the coast, not far from the town. To-
wards midnight 1 was awoke by the tone of a lute, and a voice
which delightfully affected my whole being. I listened, and
heard the words, and sprang to the window. The music pro-
ceeded from a ruined building, built upon a hill, which
stretched itself from out the sea, covered with high pines,
cypresses, and dwarfish fruit trees j they were the stanzas of a

334 ARDINGHELLO; OR, AN

romance of Pulci, which I very well knew. As the melting
intonations of a female voice accompanied the final verse,
I directly afterwards took my guitar, and sung, after
the serenaders had concluded the last melancholy tone of their
harmony, in a more joyful measure, and thus addressed them :
" Who are ye, sweet singers yonder, who have thus awoke
me with such rapture from my repose, soothing my soul with
such sweet melody?"

"We are a father and his daughter, who are lulling a charming
infant to sleep, together with the infant's father, fatigued with
the heat and labour of the day," was echoed to me in answer,
during which an old man with a long beard placed himself
under the arch of the gate.

"jAye, happy, happy beings!" continued I, seized with a fit
of inspiration, and resuming my guitar, I sung of the golden
days of Saturn in Hesperia, where all thus lived, when no
Phalaris had tormented the sweet islands of Sicilia, nor cruel
Caesar manured the fields with human blood.

"And who art thou, noble spirit ?" the old man asked me.

"A young pilgrim, who searches for excellence upon earth,"
I now replied, " and refreshes here his soul with honey."

I now descended to meet him ; we welcomed each other
cordially. He was a rine man of sixty ; a perfect poet's head,
with much of the ideal of that of Homer, only not blind.

We soon became intimate. In the course of our conversation
he informed me, that he had been an architect, and as he found
but little occupation in his profession, had followed his inclin-
ation to poetry, and was now considered one of the best
Improvisator! living, and as such he travelled about to amuse
the populace. His wife had died young, and his only daughter
he had bestowed in marriage some few years since, upon a
worthy countryman, who farmed an estate here, and with whom
he chiedy resided. In return, I told him that I followed the
art of painting, as an amateur, exactly the same as he had pre-
viously followed architecture. This delighted his very heart ;
he laid hold of my young head and placed it amidst his grey-
beard, and kissed me again and again, and then seizing the

ARTIST'S RAMBLES IN SICILY. 335

lute, and intoxicated with pleasure, he sung, like a true priest
of Apollo, the praise of poetry. I was motionless with delight.
Half the village collected together, and murmured a low praise
before the open doors and windows; and as he ceased, CTCD
the wild sea-waves seemed to feel the swelling impulse, dashing
more violently upon the shore, and all made the air ring with
exulting shouts of, Boccadoro for ever ! this being his name.
As a continuation of our amusement, I commenced an antis-
trophe, and introduced a golden song of Pindar, adapted to the
scene and circumstance ; and towards the conclusion, I des-
cribed the old man before me to the life, and praised his con-
dition as superior to that of a king; and with the loud tri-
umphant cry from the peasants of, " Long live the noble
young stranger ! and the divine old man, our Boccadoro, for
ever !" the crowd dispersed upon our separating towards
morning.

Towards day I took a walk to the hill, and from thence
overlooked Genoa, presenting a beautiful amphitheatre, which
had constantly excited its inhabitants to be the rulers of the
sea, from whence indeed the greatest heroic souls have
sprung. Sainted Columbus, and thou, Andreas Doria, who
now wander in Elysium, in the society of Themistocles and
Scipio, ye demi-gods amongst mankind, whom I now worship in
the dust. Alas ! that such a fate is withheld from rne. I looked
down upon the ocean stretched before me, and its sublime ma-
jesty expanded my bosom nigh to bursting. My soul floated
afar over the extended deep, and I felt sensibly its immortality,
with inexpressible rapture. Nothing in the world acts so
powerfully upon the soul, for the sea is certainly the most
beautiful object we possess below. The sun, moon, and
stars, are in comparison but brilliant points, and, together with
the blue mantle of ether around us, are but the ornaments of
reality. But this is the true symbol of life. Man upon this
element lends himself the wings nature has denied him, and
unites in himself the perfections of all other creatures. He
who knows not the sea, appears amongst mankind like a bird

336 ARDINGHELLO ; OR, AN

that cannot fly. All that is insignificant within, and imbibed
by us in the nooks of cities, is here scared away by the watery
mass.

Boccadoro was waiting for me when I returned to the inn.
He said, he wished me to accompany him to-day to a large
f£te, which would continue the whole week.

"The Marchesa ," said he, " is to be united to-day to

a young and lovely Milanese lady, with all imaginable pomp
and splendour. The bridegroom is considered one of the
richest noblemen in Europe. I have been requested to sing
this evening at the festal-banquet, during the cessation of other
music, and earnestly entreat you to prepare yourself for the
occasion; we could invent upon the road a pretty subject for
an impromptu. The palace is situated a few miles from the
city, upon the opposite coast. A couple of servants of my
son-in-law, together with my daughter, can convey us thither
in a barque. But," he added, " you are perhaps already ac-
quainted with all this, and have probably come hither for the
purpose:"

I assured him that I had arrived here, without knowing in
the least of this marriage-feast ; I could not sing ex tempore
before so noble a society; I was totally unused to public exhi-
bition, and, besides, 1 must be acquainted in some degree with
the character of my hearers, to find the more easily the way
to their hearts and imagination ; without which the rnosi ex-
cellent performances frequently lost their effect. Still, I would
accompany him ; his Epithalamium alone presented sufficient
charms to determine me. He could introduce me to the ban-
quet as the tuner of his lute.

I was now made acquainted with his daughter, a de-
lightful and truly amiable being, and with her husband, a
cheerful and excellent farmer, and a little angel of a son,—
they formed thus together one beautiful whole. The old ivy-
overgrown building I found neatly and comfortably arranged
within. At mid-day I took a wholesome and deliciously
simple repast with them, and after dinner we all reposed a

ARTIST'S RAMBLES IN SICILY. 337

couple of hours. We then departed in a light barque for the
Marchesa's villa. The evening was oppressively warm, and
the water was gently rippled by a breeze, which swept oc-
casionally over its surface, and there was a deep low murmur
in that breeze which betokened an approaching tempest.

The shades of night were falling fast around us, when we
stepped from our boat to a broad staircase of granite, which
met the waves, and conducted us to the inclosed grounds of
the villa. We approached the palace by a circuitous avenue
of laurel and cypress, which terminated in a grove of trees,
linked together with tall hedges of myrtle. Impatient to be-
hold the exterior elevation of the villa, I plunged through a
partial opening in the matted foliage, and the surpassing
splendour of this magnificent mansion, filled me with wonder
and admiration. A lofty dome and portal, connected by long
arcades with two noble wings, rose in majestic elevation
before me. Sounds of music and revelry escaped from the
numerously lighted windows, and I followed Boccadoro up the
marble stairs, when I found the interior decoration of this
fairy palace surpass even the external promise, and which was
rendered more enchanting by the concealed music sent forth
from the recesses. Rich strains of melody rolled in soft
vibrations through the vast rotunda, or ascended with harmo-
nious swell into the vault above. Boccadoro now led me
through the well-lighted corridor, and, between folding doors
of gilt bronze, into the hall of banquet, presenting another
scene of splendour.

The uumerous and brilliant guests were seated around long
tables which occupied the entire space between the doric
columns, covered with crimson velvet, and decorated with
vine-leaves, richly embroidered in gold ; and numerous chan-
deliers suspended above, threw a blazing light over this gay
assemblage of Genoese nobility and beauty, amongst whom
Boccadoro pointed out to me Giovani Doria, the brave and
distinguished descendant of the great Andreas. I had taken
my seat behind the Improvisatore, in an alcove reserved for the

G O

338 ARDINGHELLO J OB, AN

musicians, at the upper end of the hall ; and towards the end of
the banquet, as soon as the wine and conversation had ex-
cited the animal spirits, Boccadoro commenced touching his
lute. An universal silence ensued, and the tone of his touches
resembled the light whispering of the sea-breezes, in the high
branches of the shady woods, during the heat of noon.
Thence his soul swelled with the romance of ancient Grecian
heroes, and he sang the Espousals of Peleus and Thetis,
adorned the fahle with delightful language, and passed thence
to the present scene, described the bridegroom., as a modern
Peleus equally blessed by the gods, and depicting his bride as
the youthful Thetis. When he had concluded, the gay and
mischievous bard suddenly turned to me, where I was
standing at the corner behind him with the other musicians,
and drew me forward and introduced me as a new Apollo, if
I may repeat his words, who had just descended the Ap-
penines, to increase still more the splendour of this festival ;
and he then presented to me his guitar.

I was taken by surprise, and blushed with shame and con-
fusion before the numerous and brilliant assembly. A joyous
murmur ran through the whole saloon, and all eyes were fixed
upon me. Delay was useless, unless I wished to expose
myself to ridicule and mockery. I therefore quickly resolved
to make the best of the matter, and chose the rhyme easiest to
me, according to the melody which has the constantly increas-
ing anapastic verse, and which has so frequently delighted you.

After a few simple touches upon the instrument, I sang
with natural feeling, my surprise and confusion at the in-
cident, and that I had followed Boccadoro here to witness the
splendor and beauty of the festival ; that I was a stranger and
unknown, a mere wanderer, who had been here only a few
hours. " Yet, although a stranger, your fame," continued I,
" extends over sea and Alps, and who is so cold and envious
that would not be inspired by your happy love ! Deign,
therefore, to accept with favour the few flowers which I
hastily strew around your hospitable board. The sun of

ARTIST'S RAMBLES IN SICILY. 339

Thetis shines down to posterity because he had a Homer for
his bard ; but how much greater were Columbus and Doria,
and how far, noble Marchesa, may not the fruits of your love
exceed him in noble deeds ?" After which, I described the
proud city and bay of Genoa, the naval power of its republic,
and lauded the heroic courage which had displayed itself there
from the earliest down to the present period.

I was interrupted in the midst of some happy stanzas by
loud and continued acclamations, and upon ceasing, I received
much praise, which only delighted me in so far that my poor
endeavours had extricated me from my embarrassment.

The Marchesa and the company now rose from table to
conclude the evening with a ball, for which preparations had
been made in the large saloon that formed the corresponding
wing of the palace. As the noble host with his guests moved
in slow procession through the hall, he approached me, and
honouring me with a cordial welcome to his villa, thanked me
for the gratification I had afforded to him and his friends.
He then introduced to me his lovely bride and her friend, and
requested me to join the company in the ball-room ; but, cast-
ing a look of doubt upon my travelling garb and heavy sabre,
I told him I was not attired for the occasion, but would ac-
company my friend Boccadoro as a spectator. He however
insisted that I should appear as a privileged guest ; and a few
words from his charming bride, expressed in tones of Dorian
sweetness, aided by an enchanting smile from her beautiful
companion, conquered my hesitation at once, and I followed
in the gay and happy throng, choosing a spot whence I could
command a distinct view of the Marchesa and her friend.
Both of these charming women were perfectly beautiful,
although displaying in every respect a striking and absolute
contrast. The bride was not above the middle standard of
women, but her figure was moulded with luxuriant and per-
fect symmetry. Her features exhibited a kind of loveliness
not easily described. They were not cast in the regular mould
of Italian beauty, but were delicately rounded, and indicated,
G c 2

340 ARDINGHELLO; OR, AW

by certain peculiarities, her descent from the light-haired
Lombards. Her eyes, radiant with love and happiness, were
the clear, deep blue of midnight heavens. Ringlets of light
and glossy hair nearly concealed her ivory brow, and flowed
in golden waves and rich profusion over her shoulders. Her
complexion was of that dazzling and crystal fairness which
betrays every movement of the soul, and blushes of the deep-
est dye flitted in rapid succession across her dimpled and trans-
parent cheek. But the predominant charm of this lovely
countenance resided in its peculiar and enchanting smile. I
have succeeded beyond my expectations in sketching the por-
trait of this Lombard fairy j but I approach with diffidence
the attempt to convey to you any adequate conception of her
awfully- beautiful companion. Boccadoro informed me that
she was a Roman lady, accomplished, high-born, and opulent ;
her name, Valeria di Villa Bella ; and her residence alternately
at Rome, and at a villa near lake Albano. When I first be-
held her majestic form, and marked the serious and lofty dig-
nity of her features, I was struck with her resemblance to an
admired statue of Minerva, in the museum at Rome. When
she approached me with the Marchesa and his bride, and I
observed her imperial carriage, and the magnificent proportions
of her person, through the glittering undulations of her velvet
drapery, the vision of Pallas disappeared, and I fancied myself
in the overpowering presence of a Juno ; but, when she stood
before me, and accompanied with her magic smile the invita-
tion of the Marchesa, I recognized in the powerful intelligence
of her eyes and forehead, and in that heavenly-beaming smile,
the bright image of the Queen of Muses, the pure and lovely
Venus Urania. To speak in more intelligible phrase, I never
beheld a female form and countenance so proudly, so mag-
nificently Roman. Her luxuriant dark hair was parted on
her lofty forehead in the manner of Raffael's Madonnas, and
fell behind in raven clusters. Her complexion was a bright
clear, transparent brown, in perfect harmony with the rich
bloom of her cheek, adding lustre to eyes of dark and dan-

ARTIST'S RAMBLES IN SICILY. 341

gerous beauty. Following in the train of her numerous wor-
shippers, J entered the folding doors of a ball-room realizing
all the wonders of Armida's palace. The hall blazed with the
light of thousands of tapers, and on a pedestal before each
lofty mirror was placed a coloured lamp, burning scented oils,
and diffusing delicious odours.

About two hours after midnight, when the ball was most
animated, and all were intoxicated with pleasure, some shots
were heard, and upon the sudden stillness which succeeded it,
cries of terror resounded, and again musket-shots, which were
followed by a loud noise upon the stairs leading to the saloon.
And one moment afterwards, before one could turn round, a
numerous band of men in turbans, broke in at the door, armed
with sabres and muskets. All stood as if petrified and wished
to fly but could not, and knew not whither. All thronged
to the windows, or where an opening presented itself, and
struggled and screamed whilst every face was pale as death.

Judging from their yellow, African figures, we found we were
attacked by corsairs, and it was in vain to think of resistance.
A party of them occupied the door by which they had entered,
others immediately seized the bride and all the ladies, whom they
dragged away. I was standing at the end of the saloon by the
window towards the garden, whilst the chief nobility sprang
out, not caring for the danger. I was almost exhausted by
the throng, and could scarcely draw forth a pistol, which I im-
mediately fired at the strongest of the banditti at the door.
The ball happily struck him at his left ear, and passed through
his head, so that he died upon the spot. The explosion made
for me a little room, allowing me to draw forth the other
pistol as well as my sword. In the meantime, some of the
Genoese and the servants had provided themselves with arms,
and others, for the want of them, attacked the pirates with
stools and chairs. The robbers struck around them with
their sabres, opening the heads of some, and wounding those
who were the most forsvard. At last we succeeded in chasing
them from the door, but which post they continued to main.

G G 3

342 ARDINGHELLO J OR, AN

tain on the outside until their companions reached the sea
with their booty and clearly shipped it, their measures having
been but too well concerted.

The bridegroom himself was severely wounded, and a
couple of the most distinguished guests were stretched upon
the ground. The most courageous, together with John
Andreas Doria, hastened to Genoa to pursue the corsairs, and
of this number I formed one. It had been an attack without
precedent in the memory of man.

We arrived at Genoa towards morning ; five powerful
gallies were prepared ; and for an hour after our departure, the
sun continued to contend with a fog ; the wind had changed
during the night, and a sirocco blew from the south-east. We
did not know which way to direct our course, and advanced in
the midst of the channel, between the two coasts. At last, by
degrees, the fog dispersed, and the mountains began to display
themselves beneath their grey veil. Doria now resolved to part
with two ships, and to let them cruize towards Sicily : he having
determined to go with the third towards the coasts of Corsica
and Provence. I remained in the same vessel with him ; we
now set erery sail; but still we were unacquainted with the
strength of the enemy. We had not been able to distinguish
the number of their vessels amidst the darkness and confusion.
Towards night the cruiser returned, and informed us that it
had caught sight of the pirates near Monaco, and that they
consisted of four strong gallies. We rowed the whole
night, and the next morning, the weather having cleared
up, we perceived their vessels ; they observed us likewise
and increased their endeavours to escape. Thus did we
strive the whole day; and, just as the sun stepped from
out the air into the golden chalice, and floated along
the ocean into the dark depths of the holy night, we
opened our cannons upon them. We had the wind in our
favour, upon which they stopped, finding they could fly no
farther. We attacked them in a direct line, and spread our-
selves somewhat out, to prevent their attacking us on the

ARTIST'S RAMBLES IN SICILY. 343

side. We gave them several good broadsides, and were
much better provided with offensive arms than they. After
several evolutions, and as the twilight was descending, two of
each of us came to a close engagement, and our third en-
deavoured to stop the course of the other two gallies, who
wished to grapple it.

I was upon the first, and fought with all my strength and
presence of mind. I was fortunately yet unwounded, but the
balls of the muskets and blows of the sabres stretched down
many around me. At last we boarded their largest galley, and
I was among the first, armed with a dirk in my left hand, a
sword in my right, and a loaded pistol at my girdle. But be-
fore I jumped upon their deck, I struck one of the most
valiant of them down, who was upon the point of cutting
Doria through the middle, with his Damascus scirnetar, and I
thus saved his life. Another upon the enemy's vessel, who
aimed a blow at me, I quickly dispatched, but I could not so
effectually parry the blow with my dagger, as to prevent its
fraying my arm in gliding off; I struck him precisely in the
throat, causing him to protrude his tongue.

They retreated and yielded, excepting he who appeared to
be the captain, and who, springing belovv, I pursued him, and
behold ! here was the bride, with her friend and other ladies.
He struck at her from afar with his sabre, wishing to part her
head from her body, but I was beforehand with him, and
stuck the whole length of my sword so completely into his
body, immediatefy under his arm, that he fell on one side, and
in falling, drew it out, when I then gave him his death-blow.

The principal galley was now completely mastered, but the
others defended themselves the more obstinately. Among the
rest, a young man fought like one possessed, stretching many
dead around him, and he would have extricated himself, had
we not all gone to the assistance of our comrades. This gal-
ley was then obliged to yield. In the meanwhile, the two
others fled, bearing with them our other vessel, which they
had vanquished. We pursued, but lost them, however,

344 ARD1NGHELLO.

in the dark. The next morning they were out of sight, and
we could not discern their course.

Doria returned quite vexed that affairs had not taken a better
turn ; and, perhaps, he would not have attacked them at all,
had not one of his relations been carried away from the dancing
saloon, but whom he had, however, released. We had an
inferiority of numbers, and besides, delay was dangerous. In
fact, he ought not have dispatched the other two vessels to
Sicily; but who can foresee all? Who imagined that the cor-
sairs were so strong ? After a battle, every fool is more
prudent than Hannibal and Caesar !

ARDINGHELLO.

THE

CASTLE OF CLEVES;

THE WITNESS-HAND.

A TALE,

BY CASTELLI.

THE

CASTLE OF CLEVES;

OR,

THE WITNESS- HAND.

TOWARDS the close of the year 179 — , a division of the
twenty-second French brigade, in which Charles Surville had
just entered upon service, was ordered to Cleves (the capital
of the duchy bearing that name) there to establish its win-
ter quarters. Up to the period we have specified, that city
had not been included in the league with France} but, ac-
cording to a convention entered into with Prussia, the troops
of the republic were to hold it in possession until articles of
peace should be signed between the belligerent powers.

To almost any stranger, the sojourn at Cleves could scarcely
have failed to prove delightful. The hospitable welcome of-
fered by the inhabitants, the enchanting scenery of the envi-
rons, together with the extremely moderate expense of living,
(to a soldier of fortune an object of material importance,)
rendered the quarters in every respect desirable. But alas !
how often do we feel that there is a check to our hap-
piness, which neither change of climate, nor the most
flattering circumstances, can dissipate or controul. And
under such depression of mind was it the lot of poor
Charles, at this period, to suffer. For, whilst in obedience to
the call of his country, he was bending all his energies, and
hazarding life itself, to preserve her rights and liberties, he

348 THE CASTLE OF CLEVES;

learnt that the very same government which he was thus serv-
ing, had barbarously sacrificed the lives of his dearest relatives.
Besides several junior members of the family, his aged parents
themselves had, by an unjust and sanguinary decree, been con-
signed to the guillotine. Almost every post, indeed, brought
him the harrowing detail of some fresh calamity ; for the de-
mon of the French revolution was at that period stalking
about with bloody footsteps, and suggesting a continual
succession of victims to satiate its fierce and unhallowed
cravings.

Agonized and distracted by the list of horrors, the unhappy
Charles tore open again a wound he had but recently received
in a skirmish, and which was still unhealed : and in the depth
of night he wandered forth from the hospital, big with the
design of avenging himself deeply upon those whom he re-
garded as the murderers of his beloved relatives. This design
was, however, nothing short of madness, and he had not pro-
ceeded far ere he became faint and exhausted, and his over-
wrought feelings overcoming his enfeebled frame, he sank
down on the road-side completely powerless. Some of his
comrades fortunately coming up almost at the moment, they
lost no time in conveying back the sufferer to the asylum he
had just acquitted.

Several months passed before he recovered rfom the effects
of this relapse, and acquired sufficient strength to resume active
service. In doing so, however, he did not for a moment re-
nounce or abandon the thoughts of vengeance. They haunted
him night and day ; and he lived on in the confident hope that
an early time would arrive at which he might accomplish his
cherished purpose.

It was shortly after his return to his regimental duties, at

some distance from Cleves, that a young officer, George B ,

who had been recently appointed to the same corps, joined his
detachment. It was not long ere circumstances revealed to
Charles, that his new comrade was no other than nephew to
one of the tyrants who had been mainly instrumental in

OR, THE WITNESS-HAND. 349

butchering big kinsmen. The eyes of the enraged youth,
when he first learnt this unexpected news, flashed with almost
demoniacal joy ; and as he contemplated the devoted sacrifice
thus suddenly presented, he thanked kind fortune for so
speedily granting the desire of his heart.

Accident soon brought the young men into collision, and a
dispute having arisen between them upon some trifling matter,
swords were instantly drawn. They fought long and bravely;
until at length the point of Charles's weapon pierced the heart
of his adversary, who fell to the earth a corpse. Our hero,
aware of the danger to which be was now exposed, repaired
at once to the commandant, to whom he communicated the
particulars of the fatal occurrence ; and that officer, who en-
tertained a very high opinion of Charles's character, and sin-
cerely sympathized in his misfortunes, sanctioned and even
aided his escape, providing him wilh a letter of introduction
to the colonel of the twenty- second regiment, wherein he
was strongly recommended to that officer's protection and
favour.

Surville arrived safely at the head- quarters of the brigade
at Cleve ; and by his unassuming and modest demeanour,
strict attention to discipline and courageous bearing, recom-
mended himself to the respect of his superior officers, and the
esteem of his comrades. He rarely joined the latter in their
social hours, but was generally to be found in solitary con-
templation, silently brooding over the horrid pictures his
imagination drew of the fate of his friends ; at times, indeed,
he sought the calm converse of an amiable family wherein he
had become an inmate. The members of this small circle
consisted of the father, Mr. Milliner, an antiquary ; his son,
Gustavus, a secretary in an official office j and two daughters
— Alexandria and Dorothea — the eldest of whom was 1 7,
and the youngest 16 years of age. They were all much at-
tached to Surville j and he endeavoured to retain their good-
will by every means in his power: sometimes he would relate
his travels to the old gentleman, and describe with all their

350 THE CASTLE OF CLEVES J

technical peculiarities the various antiquities he had beheld ;
at others he was engaged in giving instruction to Gustavus in
the French language ; and again he would embrace opportu-
nities of pleasing the fair sisters, by procuring from the
master of his band select pieces of music, or getting from
Cologne the most interesting works of the day, which he read
to them. Thus the stranger became more and more inti-
mately associated with the members of the family, and was at
length almost looked upon as one of themselves.

The winter season had now nearly passed away ; and it
became observable that a tender attachment united the hearts
of Charles and Dorothea. The maiden, candid and sincere,
made no secret of her sentiments j while the young soldier
now bereft of the nearest ties of relationship — his hopes and
expectations fixed upon the colours of his regiment, could not
conceal the pleasure he derived from a prospect of forming so
respectable an alliance. At length the brother, Gustavus, was
commissioned by the lovers to be their messenger to his father,
lo whom he undertook to communicate their hopes and wishes,
and to beg the sanction of his blessing. The agent executed
his task with all the warmth and ardour of an affectionate
brother aud sincere friend : — he did not, howerer, succeed in his
object; the only reply he could obtain being, "When Surville
can produce a captain's commission, or can gain an adequate
addition to his present income — then shall Dorothea become
his wife."

This sentence was received by Charles with dismay. The
property of his family had been confiscated at the time of
their execution ; and he saw no prospect of promotion un-
less he could distinguish himself by some act of bravery — an
event which opportunity alone could bring about, and of which
he saw no chance for a length of time. Discouraged and
sick at heart, he sat musing on his hard fate, when suddenly
a thought struck him, no less singular than bold, which he
instantly prepared to carry into effect.

The father of his Dorothea not only speculated in one par-

OR, THE WITNESS-HAND. 351

ticular class of antiquities., but whenever occasion presented
itself, he also collected for his own use various rare and costly
articles, so that he was now in possession of the most com-
plete and choice collection of ancient relics to be found in the
province. Charles, therefore, in order to administer to this
taste, and conciliate the affections of the old gentleman, which,
like those of the aged generally, had become wayward and
capricious, formed a resolution to devote his leisure to the
pursuit and discovery of specimens of virtd, which he deter-
mined to acquire even at the risk, if necessary, of his life —
for it should be mentioned, that several natural curiosities,
highly prized by the antiquarian, were attainable only at con-
siderable personal hazard. It was now he recollected reports
which had reached him, that under the ruins of the ancient
castle of Cleves certain vaults existed, deeply hidden in the
bowels of the earth, said to contain almost countless treasures
in relics of ancient times.

Credulous of the truth of this rumour, the sanguine youth
fixed all his hopes upon this enterprise. He hastened to
get together the implements necessary to force a passage into
the receptacle, and, without ^betraying his purpose to any one
(not even to his beloved Dorothea herself), he set out on his
momentous expedition.

Having effected an entrance into the cavern, he pursued
his course through its subterraneous passages, until he ar-
rived at the deep descent which conducted to the vaults. He
began his labours at once, clearing away obstructions, and
gradually saw the accomplishment of his wishes become
nearer. For three succesive nights did he resume his unre-
mitting toil, till at length his exertions were rewarded by the
effecting an opening, and he anxiously gazed round the long-
unpenetrated cave wherein he found himself. By the aid of
his lantern, our hero saw that report for once had spoken
truth : relics lay strewn around him, sufficient to captivate the
hearts of a whole host of virtuosi. Charles selected what he
deemed most suited to his immediate purpose, and then re-
HH 2

352 THE CASTLE OF CLEVESj

visited the upper air, laden with sundry coins and medals, a
helmet, and a shield.

On his arrival at home, he presented these valuable objects
to the antiquary, who, astonished and delighted, ceased not to
praise the young adventurer, and to express his gratitude for
so important an addition to his catalogue. In high glee at
this first result of his adventures, Charles would have repeated
his visit that same day, had he not been compelled to resume
his regimental duties, which engrossed his attention during
the whole of the subsequent month.

No sooner was he again at liberty, than his urgent hopes
prompted him to renew his labours : and, imboldened by suc-
cess, he resolved to penetrate still deeper into the bowels of
the earth, having hitherto explored only the most superficial
of the vaults. In order, however, that the extended term of
his absence (which he had fixed for three days and nights)
might not produce anxiety in the mind of Dorothea, he de-
cided to impart his secret to her. He accordingly explained
his plan, and encouraged her with the certain prospect of
their union being secured by the rich cargo he should be
enabled to present to the world on his return. After many
fruitless attempts to dissuade him from his purpose (although
its object was to ensure their happiness), the agitated girl
yielded to his arguments, and accompanied him to the mouth
of the cavern. She was anxious even to follow her lover into
the interior; but Chailes persuaded her to leave him, and
return home immediately, to prevent her absence being noticed.
She quitted the spot, therefore, almost in despair lest she
should never see him again, although she tried to console
herself with the idea that he had already once encountered the
hazards of the expedition (for the walls were every where
crumbling, and ready to topple down), and had yet returned
unhurt. In order, however, to diminish the danger as much
as possible, she furnished him with a piece of string which
might assist him in tracing his road back (the involutions of
the subterranean ruins being perfectly labyrinthine), or guide

OB, THE WITNESS-HAND. 353

her to him in case he did not appear at the expiration of the
appointed time.

The second day of our hero's absence had not yet quite ex-
pired, when the Milliner family, and the whole town, were
surprised by the unexpected arrival of the commandant of
the division, with orders for the immediate march of the
twenty-second brigade, to join the main body of the army,
which had just taken its position on the banks of the Mease.
The drums sounded to arms, the regiment formed in the
square, and the muster-roll was called over, upon which it
was found that Charles Surville was missing. All were at a
loss to explain the cause of his absence. He was known to
be a brave soldier, and a strict disciplinarian — tenacious of
his honour, and incapable of abandoning his colours. Indeed,
amongst the many evidences of this character he had from
time to time given, was the fact, that although severely
wounded ia the right-hand, which was thereby deprived of
its forefinger, and by which circumstance he had the option
of abandoning the service, he had, notwithstanding, pre*
ferred to retain his commission, and had ever since continued
on active duty.

In this instance, however, he was clearly absent without
leave, and having been sought for throughout the town as
sedulously as circumstances would permit, there remained no
alternative but to report the unfortunate young man as a de-
serter. His regiment marched away without him, to the uni-
versal regret, mingled with astonishment of officers, privates,
and townsfolk.

It so happened, however, that counter orders overtook the
corps, soon after it had left Cleves ; in consequence of which
the soldiers returned to that city, and having arrived once
more at their barracks, the general of division felt himself
bound to issue orders for the assembling of a court martial
the following day to sit in judgment on the hapless Surville.

The third day of his disappearance had now drawn to a
close, and no tidings were received of the absent officer. Poor

H H 3

354 THE CASTLE OF CLEVES ;

Dorothea, in an agony of despair at the probable fate impend-
ing over her lover, waited until the family had retired to rest.
Fortifying herself by fond remembrances of him, for the pre-
servation of whose life she felt resolved, if necessary, to sacri-
fice her own, the intrepid girl set out alone for the ancient
ruins. When she reached the entrance of the gloomy cavern,
she was overcome with a sudden dread of Charles's fate, and
was forced to rest herself upon a block of stone.

The silence and darkness which pervaded every thing around,
enhanced her excitement and her fears. Her imagination was
tortured with the most gloomy images ; and as she sat, bend-
ing her eyes on vacancy, spectral shapes began to flit before
them, and the desolated fabric of the castle seemed to be me-
tamorphosed into one vast tomb. At length her hand acci-
dentally fell upon the thread which was to guide her to the
arms of her affianced husband. She seized it with eagerness —
it appeared to form a link between her and hope ! Her cou-
rage and spirits revived j and holding the thread firmly be-
tween her fingers, she grasped the lantern she had brought with
her, and, appealing to Heaven for support, proceeded to enter
the obscure abyss.

As Dorothea passed onward, her steps grew steadier, her
heart lighter, until the dead stillness that continued to brood
around again caused her spirits to sink. She called aloud on
Charles, but no answer was returned. A gloomy echo was the
only rejoinder. More than an hour passed thus, as the resolute
girl followed up the various openings her lover had made.
But now she felt her strength give way, and leant for support
against a projection of the rocky wall. A few minutes repose
in some degree recovered and enabled her to resume her anx-
ious search. Onwards she glided, her streaming hair (which
had become disengaged from its bands), lifted by the blast
that occasionally eddied through the crevices, and, together
with her wan cheeks, giving her the semblance of a restless
ghost} onward she wandered, till suddenly the thread, her
only guide and source of hope, terminated. Then it was she

OB, THE WITNESS-HAND. 355

felt overpowered with despair ; she became chilled both in
soul and body. She could with difficulty articulate the words,
" Charles ! my beloved Charles, where, oh ! where art thou ?''
She listened in breathless suspense, and with parted lips, but
in vain. " Alas !" cried she, at length, " he is dead !" Even
as she spoke, the dubious light of the lantern rendered an ob-
ject at some little distance partly definable, towards which,
with frantic energy and a heartbreaking shriek, she instantly
sprang. Part of a wall had fallen over, and beneath its ruins
were protruded part of the head and arms of the ill-starred
Surville. He had evidently been endeavouring to break
through this barrier, for one hand still clenched, with the con-
vulsive grasp of death, the fatal pick-axe. The breach he had
made had shaken down the whole obstruction !

The poor girl threw herself upon the bleeding relics of her
sacrificed lover, and remained long in a state of insensibility,
But fate forbad, as yet, her following him in death. She
awoke to a consciousness of misery. With considerable
difficulty and danger, she succeeded in extricating his head
from amidst the stones by which it was nearly crushed, and
laid it upon her lap, bedewing it with tears. She then resolved,
in her despair, to remain here until hunger might in mercy
produce the death she so much longed to share with him.
But, after a while, the thought flashed upon her mind that it
was still possible to rescue the honour of the deceased soldier,
and that a duty the most sacred had thus devolved upon her to
perform ere she could resolve to join him for ever in the grave.
She hastened, therefore, at once to secure the only means re-
maining to redeem the character of her betrothed ; and seizing
that same hand which had been plighted to her in faith and
love, now, alas ! cold and stiffened, she, with unshrinking re-
solution, performed the dreadful operation of severing it from
the wrist with an instrument that lay by the body. Furnished
with this terrible but undeniable proof of his innocence, she
then hurried through the dark passages, nor paused until she
had regained the entrance to that fatal cavern.

356 THE CASTLE OF CLEVES ;

Day had already dawned when Dorothea reached her home,
faint and haggard. Her sister, alarmed at her appearance at
that unseasonable hour, and in such a state, required an expla-
nation. In the greatest agitation she hastily related the dis-
tressing scences of the last night, concluding with an inquiry
as to every particular of what had been determined on respect-
ing her Charles. Alexandria replied, that even at that early
hour a court martial would be sitting in judgment on him.
Horror-struck and alarmed lest she should be too late, she
broke from her sister, and rushed through the streets to the
council-room. In vain did the sentinels oppose her entrance ;
her desperation overcame all obstacles, and she burst into
the chamber at the very moment these words were pronounc-
ing : " Charles Surville, convicted of desertion, is sentenced to
be shot!"

"Hold! hold!" she cried. "Justice! justice! Charles
Surville has not deserted his colours : he has sacrificed himself
for me, Dorothea Milliner ! Behold, the undeniable proof I
bring !'' And herewith she drew forth the cold hand of their
late comrade, which being duly recognised by the missing
finger, they at once reversed the sentence.

Poor Dorothea ! thy ghastly task was ended! thy broken
heart had earned its lasting rest ! Thy lover's sentence of ac-
quittal was thy summons for rejoining him. Stretched at the
feet of the appalled and wonder-stricken officers, with one
convulsive shudder, but unditninished faith and fortitude, Do-
rothea expired !

THE

HEROINE OF THE TYROL ;

'TIS TIME!

A SCENE IN THE TYROLESE WAR.

THE

HEROINE OF THE TYROL;

o*

'TIS TIME!

MY regiment was quartered in the ancient town of Trent
from the year 1806, when the Tyrol was annexed to the
realm of Bavaria, until 1809 ; and the latter part of this
period will ever exist in my recollection, as the most eventful
epoch I have hitherto encountered.

The Bavarian sway, as is well known, was exceedingly
unpopular throughout the newly incorporated country ; and,
in consequence, our sojourn was none of the pleasantest ;
in fact, for a long time we were sedulously cut by the inhabit-
ants of Trent and its neighbourhood : and when, at length,
they condescended to notice us at all, it was most frequently
to pick a quarrel, and to shew their teeth at least, if they
dared not bite.

It will readily be imagined, that this state of things was
particularly irksome to a party chiefly consisting of young
officers eager in the pursuit of diversion, and wearied with the
monotony of a garrison life. We were compelled to contract
our enjoyments within a very narrow circle, which almost
prohibited the chance of variety ; when, one evening, after a
jovial mess, it was proposed by two or three of the most
volatile amongst us, that we should, at any risk, assist at a
soiree which we had heard was to be given the same night, at

360 THE HEROINE OF THE TYROL;

a mansion within a mile or two of the town. This
mad-headed project was adopted — despite the remonstrances
of the more sober and reflecting of our cloth — by myself and
some half dozen other swaggering, or rather staggering,
youths, who modestly deemed themselves the elite of his

Bavarian majesty's regiment of light dragoons.

Amidst continued and boisterous merriment at the idea of
a Tyrolese assemblee, we pursued our route, and reaching the
chateau, penetrated, ere the wonder-stricken domestics bad
time to announce us, into the principal saloon, which, to our
surprise, was filled with a company apparently as well-dressed
and well-bred as might on an average be found at the conver-
sazione of Munich itself. Our sudden and unexpected pre-
sence seemed to paralyze the whole assemblage ; and many
eyes were turned upon us as glaring as those of Tybalt at the
intrusion of the hostile Montagues. As in that instance,
however, so now, the host — a benevolent and sensible man —
betook himself to soften matters j and politely advancing, both
welcomed and invited us to sit. We had prepared ourselves
for every circumstance save one — which one was precisely
that I have just related. We should infallibly, flushed as we
were with wine, have persisted in exchanging some chit-chat
with the country belles, even had we been subsequently obliged
to retreat, sword in hand, to our quarters. But thus received
by the master of the house, our heroism fell fruitless, and we
certainly cut but a sorry figure ; it was fortunate that one of
our party possessed presence of mind enough to extricate
himself and comrades from so embarrassing a dilemma.

In candid terms, he begged pardon of the host for our un-
authorized and unmannerly intrusion ; pleaded, in excuse, the
miserable monotony of our quarters ; appealed to the ladies
indulgently to step forward as peace-makers between us and
their male friends $ and, in short, succeeded in placing all par-
ties finally on easy and good-humoured terms.

Amongst the numerous damsels present, one, in particular,
attracted and fixed my notice. She was very young ; but her

OR, 'TIS TIME ! 361

whole contour, and the sweet intellectuality of her counte-
nance, impelled me to devote to her uiy entire attention j nor
did the fair Dorothea— for such, I found, she was called —
seem disposed to repel these advances. In fact, the whole of
the company grew more and more sociable, with one solitary
exception — that of an individual named Rusen, whose dark
complexion and wily features looked more Italian than Ger-
man, and formed a striking contrast to the sunny, smiling
aspect of Dorothea. It was, indeed, difficult to imagine that
any thing could exist in common between two persons appa-
rently so opposite ; but I observed, that in proportion to the
increase of my familiarity with the latter, the sinister counte-
nance of Rusen waxed more and more gloomy.

The lady evidently remarked this change j and when it be-
came so palpable as not to be mistaken, she made up to him
and tried sundry little arts and enticements to win him back to
complacency. This undoubtedly looked like love ; and the
strange suspicion was confirmed by a bystander, who, on the
lady's quitting my neighbourhood, smilingly said, — "Take heed,
Captain j you will incur the vengeance of Rusen, who is a sche-
ming sort of fellow, if you continue to flirt with his betrothed."
The words sounded unaccountably ; for even at that moment,
as I gazed on the pair, her anxious, agitated manner bore
rather the semblance of fear than affection. Indeed, from a
feeling I could scarcely define, I resolved that this alleged con-
tract should not prevent my offering to escort the fair one
home — which, when the hour of separation arrived, I accord-
ingly took occasion to do. She declined the offer with a bland
smile. I did not press it, under the circumstances, but turned
away to saunter once more through the rooms. On returning,
however, toward the spot, my surprise was great, to see Doro-
thea still seated there, alone, and apparently much chagrined.
" Captain," said she, as I approached, and striving to assume
a tone of gaiety, " I fear you will accuse me of caprice, but
were your offer now repeated, I should accept it." Of course,
I lost no time in profiting by this alteration, and having sum-

1 1

362 THE HEROINE OF THE TYROL?

moned Dorothea's attendant, we at once set forward for her
home, which J understood to be at some little distance on the
Botzen road.

The night was dark, and the streets deserted. The domes-
tic preceded us with a torch, and by its rays I could perceive
that my companion's features were thoughtful and abstracted.
To all my efforts to engage her in conversation, she answered
by monosyllables ; until at length she suddenly exclaimed,
" Captain Lieber, I am now home, and have no further cause
to dread interruption or molestation. You, on the contrary,
being unfortunately a Bavarian" (and I thought I could de-
tect a sigh as she spoke), " are obnoxious to many around
us. I entreat you, therefore, to return to your quarters ; do
so as expeditiously and quietly as may be, and forget a weak-
ness which has possibly caused me to lead you into peril."
She uttered these words, though whisperingly, with much ear-
nestness ; and, as if to give them greater force, at the same
time pressed my arm with fervour. That pressure thrilled
through my heart; bat its effect was different from what she
had intended, for I was the more determined to escort her
safely to her door.

On reaching the chateau, we found it enveloped in dark-
ness and silence ; but Dorothea having knocked at a window,
it was gently opened, and after a moment's whispering, a
large cloak and slouched hat were handed out to her. "Take
these," said she to me; "disguise may now be necessary.
They will serve to conceal your uniform and cap."

" What dread you, then ?" I inquired, somewhat startled.
" We Bavarians and the Tyrolese now form one people : we
are not at war with each other ; and even the peasantry will
soon become friendly to a government which requires nothing
but order and submission to lawful power."

" Lawful power," responded the lovely rebel, "can pro-
ceed neither from the swotd nor pen — from the issues of
battles nor the negociations of peace."

" From whence, then, does it proceed ?"

OR, 'TIS TIME! 363

"From the will of the people. But I must not argue with
you," pursued she, smiling j "all I seek just now is a sound
night's repose, which I am sure you will not, by neglecting my
caution, deprive me of."

By way of answer, I enveloped myself in the ample folds of
the mantle. I raised her delicate little hands to my lips ; and,
tempted by her acquiescence, exclaimed, " You are obeyed j
but ere I go, dear Dorothea, tell me — are you indeed betrothed
to that gloomy-looking Rusen ?"

" Yes no !" replied she, and rushing into the house,

put a stop to all further communication.

Transported with an indistinct emotion of hope, I quitted
the dwelling of the lovely Tyrolese, and commenced my
journey homewards. For a while, my imagination wandered
into all sorts of delightful prospects for the future, until the ob-
scurity of the path recalled me to the passing moment. I
fancied that, through the prevailing gloom, I could distinguish,
in the distance, the faint lights of the little town of Trent j
and thus encouraged, was walking briskly onward, when my
progress was arrested by coming close upon a human figure,
apparently mantled like myself, and gliding forward with
noiseless steps. Whilst listening for some signs of life from
this object, it suddenly disappeared. I paused in surprise ;
and a moment after, a voice behind me murmured softly, " Is it
time?' Instinctively disguising my tones, 1 replied, "Time
to be snug in bed, friend ;" on which the challenger, as if mis-
taken in the party he had addressed, without another word
retired.

There was something about this circumstance, coupled with
the preceding ones, that I did not altogether like— particularly
as I thought I recognised, in the voice I had just heard, that
of Rusen. Grasping the hilt of my sabre, I struck out of
the main road, and took a bye-path, which, at the expense of
a little detour, might, I conceived, save me the hazard of being
waylaid. This path led through some conventual ruins, aud
I resolved, on reaching them, to play the sentinel for a few

ii 2

364 THE HEROINE OF THE TYROL J

minutes, and reconnoitre before I penetrated further into the
valley before me. I threaded my way among the rotting
walls cautiously and in silence — and it was well I did so, or
I should have stumbled right upon a man, who, with folded
arms, was leaning against a parapet. He must have been
dozing, for the next moment he started at the voice of a per-
son (who approached from another quarter), uttering the
question I had before heard, " Is it time ?" The voice was
certainly Rusen's, and his interlocutor answered with the
word, " Salurn."

" Has be passed you ?'' inquired Rusen.
" No : not a mouse could have gone by rne unobserved,"
rejoined the watchful sentinel, " much less an accursed Ba-
varian."

" Come back with me, then, to the high road, and we will
go onward, for he cannot be much longer, and the more dis-
tant we are from the town, the better."

The conspirators (whose purpose was now evident) retired,
and as soon as their footsteps grew faint in the distance, I
emerged from the friendly buttress which had concealed me,
and hastened, with returning confidence, to my quarters.

On inquiry, next morning, I learned that Rusen was a na-
tive of Verona, but possessed of great property aud influence
in the neighbourhood of Botzen. He was considered as the
accepted lover of Dorothea, who, however, it was generally
suspected, in receiving his addresses, was swayed more by
political motives than the hope of connubial happiness. This
remarkable young creature, at that time just budding forth a
delicate, fragile maiden, had distinguished herelf three years
previously, when her country fell into the hands of Bavaria,
by her ingenuity in suggesting continual obstacles to the do-
mination of the Bavarian government. Yet, urged by my
hopes, I could not help imagining (from the interest she took
in my preservation) that her hostility to my native land was
either decreased, or had been exaggerated.

Some time elapsed, after these occurrences, ere I could

OR, 'TIS TIME ! 365

again obtain an interview wi*h Dorothea. Meanwhile, I one
evening received orders to escort with my troops a supply of
money to Botzen. As I must pass her father's chateau on the
route, I resolved at all hazards to attempt to see the object of
so many both of my waking and sleeping thoughts. I, there-
fore, gave instructions to my lieutenant to await me at a vil-
lage a little further on, and dismounting, struck into a circuit-
ous path, which led me to the hall door of the mansion. Find-
ing this open, I was in the act of presenting myself un.
announced in the parlour, when I was fixed to the spot by
the startling voice of Rusen. " To-morrow night, then !"
he exclaimed to some other person in the apartment — " to-
morrow night, in the Salurn Castle."

" Agreed !— but stay — hear me!" and I recognised the
tones of Dorothea.

I recollect not the precise train of thoughts that whirled
through my brain ; there was something of jealousy — of dis-
appointment— of indignation : when my consciousness 6owed
again in a clear stream, I found myself in full gallop after my
troop in advance.

Upon our return the following afternoon, I shifted the
quarters of my company to the village of Salurn, and having
seen both men and horses properly billeted, crossed, towards
twilight, a wild and terrific chasm, forming one of the natural
defences of the ruined castle which towered high over head,
its turrets glowing with the rays of the setting sun, whilst
beneath all was quickly becoming immersed in gloom. Having
never beheld these majestic ruins at so favourable a moment,
I was for some time absorbed by the contemplation: from this
reverie, however, I was aroused by the sudden apparition of a
young moun'aineer, who leaped from crag to crag with incon-
ceivable agility. To avoid any risk of insult from the peasantry,
I had laid aside my regimental dress, and therefore watched
the boy's progress, heedless whether or not he should be
followed by a train. He passed swiftly as the wind, but in
passing, threw toward me a scrap of paper, which he took
1 1 3

366 THE HEROINE OF THE TYROL;

from a small basket on his arm. I eagerly examined it, but
found nothing more than the enigmatical words, " 'Tis time !"

I turned over and over in my mind the probable meaning of
these emphatic syllables. Their reference to Rusen's mys-
terious question was palpable; but what did both conjointly
imply ? Although the Tyrolese were known to be generally
disaffected to their existing rulers, yet no evidence had been
given of open and organized hostility. It is true — for my
suspicions now aggravated every occurrence I could not tho-
roughly explain — that I had latterly observed several groups of
persons engaged in close and anxious conversation ; and, in
one instance, saw a considerable body of men fixing their eyes
intently on the summit of Salurn Castle; but these were vague
circumstances, which yielded no positive deduction.

What was to be done ? At first, I felt strongly disposed to
return to the village and get my troops under arms ; but my
interest to discover whether Rusen and Dorothea met at so
strange a time, and in so strange a place, was unconquerable,
heightened too by their manifest connexion with what I now
began to consider a watchword. I resolved, finally, since I
was so far on the road, to satisfy myself first in this matter,
and then hasten to Salurn and Trent, and take the necessary
precautions.

Accordingly, I pushed on my way, nor relaxed in my pace,
although I had to struggle with sundry steep ascents and
rude crags, until I found myself at the foot of the immense
rock whereon the castle stands. The grand difficulty now
was, to discover the direct rough-hewn flight of steps leading
up to the structure, in seeking which I explored the entire
circumference, and lost so much time that it had grown dusk
all round me. What my sensations were during this interval
it is impossible to describe.

Thus situated, my quick ear detected the voice of Rusen.
It sounded from beyond a projecting corner of the cliff. Fa-
voured by the darkness, I groped round; and had scarce doubled
the point \vhen the transient gleam of a lantern fell on

OR, 'TIS TIME ! 367

three figures, in whom I recognised Rusen, Dorothea, and a
female whom I did not remember to have seen before. This
momentary light likewise enabled me to attain a spot whence
I could hear, at least, whatever passed.

Complete silence was maintained by all three for some time
— and in the doubtful light their outlines reminded me of a
group of marble statutes. " Hear me," at length exclaimed
Rusen, in a rough and angered voice, " and let us fully under-
stand each other. I am not, as you know, a Tyrolese. I have
no personal feelings to gratify by setting this unhappy country
in a blaze. On the contrary, those peaceful plans of commerce
which have brought me hither, thrive best when public tran-
quillity is established. If, therefore, I stand committed to this
confederacy, and throw into the scale all my money, influence,
and credit, my reward must be rendered certain. Pronounce,
therefore, the word, Dorothea; say that to-morrow you will
be my wife, and this moment will I spring up the rocky height.
Speak clearly and firmly ; for no longer, and least of all here,
will I be trifled with."

A few moments elapsed ere Dorothea answered, and when
she did, her tones were so faint and tremulous that it was
quite impossible to distinguish them. " She has consented,"
exclaimed the other female; "up, then, if you be a man!"

So intense was my excitement, that the whole scene was, as
it were, branded upon my heart. The parties moved away,
and with stealthy pace I followed. A minute after, the light
was seen ascending, as if spontaneously, the face of the cliff'.
Its position enabled me to hit upon the steps, which, without
a moment's hesitation, I began to mount. They were almost
perpendicular — slippery and dangerous ; but, as if by instinct,
my feet fixed themselves firmly in the friendly cavities. I
quickly gained upon the light, whilst I felt my strength re-
doubled by that tiger- like feeling which works on man when
he finds almost within his grasp a deadly foe. Immediately
above us was a narrow platform running round the base of the
building, and here I overtook my rival.

368 THE HEROINE OF THE TYROL;

My advancing footsteps induced him to turn in surprise, and
at the same instant I rushed on him, and seized him by the
throat. " Jesu Maria!" cried he, as his 6ngers convulsively
sought some firm hold upon me, " Is it not time?"

" Yes !" I rejoined, " it is time !" and as the gleam of the
lantern showed him my features, his own expressed a mingled
feeling of exultation and horror. " In the name of the king,"
I pursued, "I apprehend you as a traitor. Will you resign
yourself my prisoner ?"

" Never !" shouted he.

"Then down with you!" and with my collected strength
I dragged him to the brink of the precipice.

The Italian struggled desperately, and we hung together for
several minutes over the abyss. A complexity of passions
nerved my arm. Personal antipathy to the man, loyalty to my
king, love of Dorothea, all combined to animate me; but my
antagonist possessed considerable muscular strength, and I
doubt whether the issue would have been successful for me,
had he not relaxed his hold in order to draw a poignard. This
action was fatal to the unfortunate Rusen. I had obtained
considerable celebrity in wrestling, with which manly exercise
we often beguiled a wearisome hour in garrison, and the in-
stant he loosened his gripe, I got my foot between his, and
fairly tripped him up.

He fell heavily and headlong from the platform upon the
mass of rock beneath, uttering a piercing yell. I stood a mo-
ment almost petrified; but having recovered from this stupor,
my next step was to descend again the rocky stairs and dis-
cover whether my victim yet lived. On reaching the spot
whereon he had fallen, I found already there Dorothea and her
friend, betiding with speechless horror over the motionless
body of Rusen, at whose breast the lantern still remained sus-
pended and unextinguished.

"Are you here, captain?" exclaimed Dorothea, half shriek-
ing; " merciful heaven, is this a dream ?"

" Let us think of it hereafter but as one," replied I. " You,

369

at any rate, must have no share in this scene of crime and
death."

She answered not, but knelt and unloosened the lamp from
the body of Rusen. " Leare me, leave me, captain Lieber, I
must hence to obey the call of a sacred duty. As poor Rusen,
alas ! no longer lives to perform it, I must complete his inten-
tion !"

" Dorothea !" exclaimed I, " this is the language of mad-
ness. You are at present strongly excited, and not able to
think for yourself. I must therefore insist on conducting you
from this accursed spot. Come, let us begone ! my duty
summons me away."

"What duty?" rejoined she, firmly but sadly. "You go
to be the means of betraying, perhaps to death, the ill-fated
being you said you loved."

"Never, by heaven!" cried I : "not by a word or by a
look !"

" But there may be other witnesses of this transaction, and
— " she paused a moment, and then resumed: " In the cen-
tre turret of the castle above us are deposited certain papers,
which I am resolved to demolish with the flame of this lamp :
otherwise I cannot rest in peace."

" If that be all, I will accomplish it. Give me the lamp."

" You, captain !" — and she shuddered as she spoke.

" Nay, dearest Dorothea, hesitate no longer: time presses."

The maiden wrung her hands and wept aloud.

" Do you fear," resumed I, scarce knowing what I said,
" that I should examine the papers, and betray their contents?"

"I confess that is my fear/' she replied, lingeringly.

" Shall I then swear not to do it >"

"No ; but promise by your honour, by your love for me,
that when you have ascended the turret, and found the packet,
which is placed upon a small box on a flat stone near its top,
you will — without looking for any inscription — instantly burn
both box and packet, and watch their gradual consumption to
ashes. Do you promise this ?"

370 THE HEROINE OF THE TYROL;

"I do, on the honour of a soldier !"

The agitating occurrences of the night had thrown ray mind
into a state of chaos. I was incapable at the moment of any
connected train of thought, and my predominant feeling was
the renewed hope of at length attaining Dorothea's heart and
hand.

I seized the lamp from the grasp of the heroic though
trembling girl, and having once more climbed the precipitous
steep, gained its pinnacle without accident. I felt dizzy for a
moment on reaching the level from whence the unfortunate
Rusen had been dashed ; but, with unflinching resolution,
waded over broken stones and rubbish, until I was at the foot
of the ruined central tower. Its winding stair was imperfect
and dilapidated, and I was half dead with fatigue ere I had
reached the top. The fresh air, however, which then blew
unimpeded over my head, did much to revive me, and at length
approached the mysterious packet. It was deposited on a
stone which projected a little from the wall.

True to my promise, I averted my eyes while applying the
flame to the objects mentioned. The paper, however, having
probably become damp, would not readily ignite, and I was
thus unwillingly forced to turn and look toward the stone
whereon it rested, when I perceived its surface to be — com-
pletely blank I

An icy coldness shot through every vein as I made this dis-
covery. Meantime, the paper had taken fire, and as it blazed,
emitted sundry sparks as if from gunpowder ; and having
communicated to the box beneath, immediately a large column
of blue flame ascended, steadily, high into the air !

My mental perceptions became clear on the instant. All
traces of confusion vanished from my brain, and the whole
truth was at once developed. With sudden impulse and su-
pernatural strength, I drew the stone from the wall, and hurled
it, box and all, into the void below ; but it was too late — the
SIGNAL was given ! From the summit of every hill, far and
near, fires arose, as if simultaneously, tossing about their

OR, 5TIS TIME ! 371

flames like so many hell-spirits, in the blackness of night, re-
plying to each other's call. The next moment were heard the
drums of the infantry, and the trumpets of the dragoons, and
these were quickly succeeded by the thunder of small-arms and
cannon, which reached from valley to valley.

How I descended, first the turret, and then the rock, I have
not the most distant knowledge. Tearing myself from the
out-stretched arms of Dorothea, I sprang like a maniac into
the village. Alas! I just arrived in time to see my brave fel-
lows, surrounded and overwhelmed, cut to pieces, by armed
peasantry. Every where around was shouted the signal-cry
" It is timer On that fatal night, the Tyrol was lost to
Bavaria !

Struck by a bullet, I fell j and when, after great aud pro-
tracted suffering, I was once more enabled to conceive what
passed around me, I found the mountain land restored into
the arms of Austria, and recognized in my nurse its heroic
patriot, Dorothea ; who — hostilities having ceased, and no
further national jealousy existing between us — shortly after-
wards became my wife.

CHARACTER

OF

CHARLEMAGNE,

BY KOHLRAUSCH.

GOETHE,

AS A PATRIOT.
BY BORNE.

K K

THE

CHARACTER OF CHARLEMAGNE.

THAT we may completely comprehend the extraordinary man
whom we must admire, we necessarily desire to be acquainted
with his exterior form, wherein the mighty spirit was encased.
We are anxious to know how the eye reflected the internal
sentiments j how the brow and countenance depicted dignity
and repose ; or how they expressed the animated emotions of
the mind ; and whether the elevation and power of the mind,
were equally displayed in the whole corporeal form. Egin-
hard, the friend of Charlemagne, whom he had brought up in
his palace, as his adopted son, has drawn up for us a beautiful
and affectionate description of that prince.

" In person the Emperor Charles was robust and strong,"
he says, " and of great height, for he measured seven of his own
feet.* His head was round, his eyes large and animated ;
his nose somewhat exceeded moderate proportion j his grey
hair was beautiful to behold ; his countenance joyous and
cheerful, whence his figure derived peculiar dignity and charm.
He had a firm step, and a perfect manly bearing. He inces-
santly practised riding and hunting, according to the customary
habits of his nation ; for scarcely a nation existed upon earth
that could rival the Franks in these arts. He was, besides, so
skilful in swimming, that none could justly be said to surpass
him.

* A staff or lance of iron has been preserved, which is said to give the exact
height of Charlemagne; according to which he measured six feet three
inches by the Rhenish measurement.

K K 2

376 THE CHARACTER OP CHARLEMAGNE.

He enjoyed constant good health with the exception of
during the four last years of his life, wherein he was fre-
quently attacked by fever, which at last occasioned his slightly
halting ; and during these attacks he followed his own coun-
sel rather than the advice of his physician, with whom he was
much vexed, for they prohibited his eating roasted meat, which
he considered the most wholesome of all. He was exceed-
ingly temperate in eating and drinking, but most so in the lat-
ter, for he excessively abhorred drunkenness in any body, and
not merely in himself and those about him. His daily meat
consisted of four dishes only, exclusive of roast meat, which
his jsigers brought upon the spit, and which he preferred to all
the rest. During his meals he listened with pleasure to the
lute and singing, or to a reader, and particularly to the histo-
ries and deeds of ancient heroes. He also took much delight
in the works of St. Augustine, especially his "City of God."

In summer he used, after dinner, to enjoy a little fruit, and
to drink once j then to undress himself as he did at night, and
to rest for three or four hours. His nights were very restless,
not merely by being awake for three or four times, but he even
got up, and thus interrupted his repose. During his toilet,
not only were his friends admitted, but also if his Count Pa-
latine had any appeal to present to him, which could not be
decided without his hearing, he caused the disputants to be
brought before him, and then investigated the affair and gave
judgment.

His dress consisted of the national costume, and was but
little different from that of the common people. He wore,
next his skin, a linen shirt, over which a garment with a silken
binder, and long trousers. His feet were enclosed in shoes,
and in winter, for the protection of his shoulders and chest,
he wore a waistcoat of otter skin. As upper garment, he wore
a mantle, and was always girded by his sword, whose haft and
defence were of gold and silver ; he also sometimes wore a
sword inlaid with jewels, but only on particular festivals, or
when he gave audience to foreign ambassadors. His raiment

THE CHARACTER OF CHARLEMAGNE. 377

was then of cloth of gold ; and he wore a crown adorned with
gold and precious stones. Foreign dress, even the most beau'
tiful, he disliked, and would never be clothed in it, with the
exception of at Rome, once at the birth of Pope Adrian, and
another time at that of his successor, Leo, when he wore a
long train, and broad mantle, and shoes made according to the
Roman fashion.

King Charles possessed a rich and flowing eloquence, and
whatever he wished, he expressed in the most concise manner.
He did not content himself with his mother tongue alone, but
applied himself industriously to the acquirement of foreign
languages ; among which, he was so perfect a master of the
Latin, that he spoke it equally as well as his native tongue.
Greek, however, he better understood than spoke ; but he was
certainly so proficient in it, that he could himself have become
a teacher. The superior arts he practised zealously, and he
much honoured and rewarded teachers. In learning gram-
mar, he heard the venerable deacon, Peter of Pisa j in other
sciences his instructor was Albin, with the surname Alcum,
who was from Britain, of Saxon origin, and in every respect a
learned man, with whom he took much trouble also, and be-
came familiar with astronomy. He also endeavoured to write,
and was accustomed to have tablets under his pillow in bed,
that when he had time, he might practise his hand in the imi-
tation of letters. But he succeeded very poorly in this so
late commenced occupation.

The minster at Aix-la-Chapelle, which is of extreme beauty,
is a monument of his love of the arts, and of his excessive
piety, and which he caused to be ornamented with gold and
silver; with windows, lattices, and doors of bronze. For its
constrnction he caused pillars and marble to be brought from
Rome and Ravenna, as he could not obtain it elsewhere.* His
piety displayed itself in the support of the poor, and in gifts
which he sent to distant lands across the sea, whenever he

* The Church of the Virgin Mary, and the Imperial Palace, are the first
buildings of a German Prince with which we are acquainted.

K K 3

378 THE CHARACTER OF CHARLEMAGNE.

heard that Christians were in need. Therefore it was, that he
sought the friendship of princes ruling across the sea, that some
portion of goodwill might be dispensed to the Christians living
under their dominion. He thus maintained a friendship with
Aaron, the King of the Persians, (Haroun al Raschid, Caliph of
Bagdad,) who possessed, excepting India, the whole East.
When, therefore, his envoys were sent with presents to the holy
grave of our Lord and Saviour, Haroun not only received them
friendly, but, upon their return, he sent his own ambassador
with them, who bore a present for the Emperor Charles, gar-
ments, spices, and the most choice of other eastern rarities, as
some few years before he had sent him the only elephant he
then possessed.

From another source we learn that the elephant, which was
called Abulabag (the destroyer), by its monstrous and un-
exampled size amazed the whole world, and was Charles's espe-
cial favorite. And that among the presents was a costly tent,
a clock made of tin with astonishing skill, upon which there
was a hand moved by water during twelve hours with as
many iron balls, which, when the hours were completed, fell
upon a brass cup placed below, and by their fall indicated the
hour, upon which mounted knights, according to the number
of the hour, stepped out of twelve windows. Certainly, an
extraordinary work for that period ! Charles returned presents
of Spanish horses, mules, and fresian mantles, which, in
those countries, were very rare and expensive, and lastly,
dogs unsurpassed for rapidity and ferocity, for hunting the
lion and tiger.

We have previously related his friendly connexion with the
Emperor in Constantinople, and with the princes of England
and Scotland, and thus the impression of his personal great-
ness was reflected by his whole age, as well in the description
of those who were about him, as in the veneration of distant
nations, and his own grandson, Nithan, who has described
the disputes of the son of Louis the Pious, says of him, very
justly, " Charles, justly called by all nations the great Em-

THE CHARACTER OF CHARLEMAGNE. 3/9

peror, a man who rises so high above the human race of his
age by every species of wisdom and virtue, that he appears
to all equally terrible and amiable as well as equally ad-
mirable."

In the following generation, still filled with veneration for
him, his portrait has become so eradiated by tradition and
fiction, that his figure appears gigantically magnified. Thus is
he described, for an example, in a low German legend, " The
Emperor Charles was a handsome, tall, strong man, with
powerful arms and legs; his face was a span and a half long,
his beard a foot wide ; his eyes appeared so bright to those
whom he attentively looked at, that it was terrific ; his
strength was so great that with one hand he could raise a
fully armed man above his head."

And an ancient Chronicle says of his expedition against
King Desidereus : " When the Longobordian king observed,
from his tower at Pavia, the whole Frankish army advancing
against him, he sought the king in every rank. King Charles
appeared at last upon his war-horse, which resembled iron both
in courage and colour, he himself with a brazen helmet ou
his head, with iron armour on his arms and legs, and
with a shining breast- plate over his breast and broad
shoulders ; in his left hand holding upright his iron spear,
and his powerful right hand ready to grasp his sword ;
and when now Notker, a noble exiled by Charles, who stood
near the king of the Longobards, pointed at him, and
said, ' Behold, there is he whom thou hast sought,' Desi-
dereus nearly fell, and sighed, ' Let us descend and conceal
ourselves in the earth before the angry countenance of so
powerful an enemy.' " As a testimony that the admiration
excited by true greatness spreads far beyond the immediate
period, and respects itself to the latest ages, in susceptible and
warm minds, the judgment of a modern upon king Charles,
may take its place here. " In the whole being of the great
king is announced the original of his energetic age, full of
manly, yet cheerful virtue. Combined with the exuberance of

380 THE CHARACTER OF CHARLEMAGNE.

power, which remodelled a whole world, there was united a
mildness and gentleness, and with all his dignity and elevation,
simplicity, purity of mind, and a profound fire of feeling were
consorted. The mixture of severity, and childlike mildness
in his deportment, was the mystery whereby he filled all
at the same time with veneration and love ; retaining a
faithful adherence in them who had been severely provoked,
which is exquisitely proved by the deed of the noble Frank,
Isenbart, who, although deprived of all honour and possession
by Charles, became, nevertheless, his manifested and sole saviour
from real danger. There lay in the fire of his eye so much
power, that a punishing glance prostrated the object, so that
the words of Scripture might be applied to him : "The king,
when he sits upon the throne of his Majesty, chases by a
glance of his countenance every evil thing," whilst, iu the
thunder of his voice there was such force, that it struck to
the earth whomsoever he addressed in anger j while again, on
the contrary, his countenance reflected such unutterable hila-
rity, and his voice was of such delightful clearness, that a
fabler calls him the joyful king of the Germans, and assures
us, that he was always so full of every charm and gentleness,
that he who came sorrowfully to him, by his mere look, and a
few words, departed, excited and joyful. He was of that
number of men in whose countenance the fulness of a tran-
quil and clear mind is reflected, and in all these outlines of
his character is Charles the ideal of a German and a Prince,
as in truth he may be called the father and creator of the
German age, which he brought upon the stage of history,
after it had attained ripeness and perfection in the womb of
humanity ; and it was not merely in his works, and ex-
ternal creation, that he founded the German age, but he bore it
entire, with its greatness and simplicity, with its heroism in
war, and friendship in peace, in his profound soul !

GOETHE, AS A PATRIOT.

GOETHE might have rendered himself as strong as Hercules
in freeing his country from the filth it contains, but he
merely procured for himself the golden apples of the Hes-
perides, of which he retained possession j and, satisfied with
that, he placed himself at the feet of Omphale, where he re-
mained stationary. How completely opposite was the course
pursued by the great poets and orators of Italy, France, and
England ! Dante, a warrior, statesman, and diplomatist,
beloved and hated, protected and persecuted, by mighty princes,
remained withal unaffected by either, and sang and fought in
the cause of justice. Alfieri was a nobleman, haughty and
rich, and yet he panted up the hill of Parnassus, to proclaim
from its summit universal freedom. Montesquieu was a ser-
vant of the state, aud yet he sent forth his " Persian Letters,"
in which he mocked at courts, and his " Spirit of the Laws,"
wherein he exposed the defects of the French government.
Voltaire was a courtier, but he only courted the great in
smooth words, and never sacrificed his principles to them.
He wore, it is true, a well-powdered wig, and was fond of lace
ruffles, silk coats and stockings ; but when he heard the
cry of the persecuted, he did not hesitate to wade through
the mud to their rescue, and with his own ennobled hands
snatch from the scaffold the unjustly condemned victim. Rous-
seau, was a poor, sickly beggar, and needed aid, but he was
not seduced by tender care ; neither could friendship, even
from the great, produce a change in his principles. He con-
tinued proud and free, and died in poverty. Milton, whilst

382 GOETHE, AS A PATRIOT.

engaged in the composition of his divine poetry, forgot not,
though in poverty, the necessities of his fellow-citizens, but
laboured for liberty and right. Such men were also Swift,
Byron, &c., and such are, at the present moment, Moore,
Campbell, and others. But how has Goethe exhibited himself
to his countrymen and to the world ? As the citizen of a free
city, he merely recollected that he was the grandson of a
mayor, who, at the coronation of the Emperor of Germany,
was allowed to hold the temporary office of Chamberlain. As
the child of honest and respectable parents, he was delighted
when once a dirty boy in the street called him a bastard, and
wandered forth in imagination (the imagination of a future
poet) the son of some prince, questioning himself as to which
he might perchance belong. Thas he was, and thus he re-
mained. Not once has he ever advanced a poor solitary word
in his country's cause — he, who from the lofty height which
he had attained, might have spoken out what none other but
himself could dare to pronounce. Some few years since, he
petitioned " their high and highest Mightinesses" of the Ger-
man Confederation, to grant his writings their all-powerful pro-
tection against piracy ; but he did not remember to include
in his prayer an extension of the same privilege to his literary
contemporaries. Ere I would have allowed my ringers to
pen thus a prayer for my individual right, and that only, I
would have permitted them to be lamed and maimed by the
ruler's edge, like a school-boy !

BORNE.

THE

SWISS CONFEDERATION

WILLIAM TELL.
BY ZSCHOKKE.

PERSONAL ANECDOTES

OP

FREDERICK THE GREAT.

BY MUCHLER.

THE

SWISS CONFEDERATION:
WILLIAM TELL.

THE cry of war soon resounded throughout the country, from
Soleure to lake Leman. Such of the barons and counts as
were in alliance with the emperor (Albert), and cherished the
greatest hostility towards the towns and their growing power,
advanced to the attack of Bern. The brave citizens, however,
supported by an auxiliary force from Soleure and other places,
under the command of the veteran Ulrich of Erlacb, totally
defeated the superior force of the enemy in the battle of Don-
nerbii hel, taking and destroying afterwards many of the castles
and fortresses belonging to the nobles ; exploits which gained
for the town a brilliant celebrity throughout Helvetia.

On this the Emperor himself advanced into the country, and
encamped on a hill opposite to Zurich, from whence he could
command a view of every part of the town. The citizens,
however, although prepared to offer a vigorous resistance, re-
fused to shut their gates, but sent to inform him of their rea-
diness to acknowledge him Emperor, provided he consented to
recognize their rights and liberties. Conscious that he had
brought with him no battering train to prosecute a siege, and
perceiving so numerous an armed force within the town — for
even the women had taken up arms — Albert abandoned his
hostile intentions, and confirmed the independence and rights
of the city. As to the confederates of the Waldstetten, he
communicated to them his desire of seeing them affectionate

L L,

386 THE SWISS CONFEDERATION :

children to his royal house, and that they would best consult
their own interests by placing themselves as faithful subjects
under the protection of Austria. He dispatched Hermann
Gessler, of Brunegg, and Beringer, knight of Landenberg,
who, contrary to the custom of the imperial governors, imme-
diately took up their abode in the country ; the latter at the
royal castle near Sarnen in Obwalden, and the former at a
fortress erected by himself in the territory of Uri. The tolls
were now raised, the most venial fault punished with impri-
sonment and the severest penalties, and the people treated
with haughty insolence and contempt.

Once, as Gessler was riding past the newly-built house of
Slaufiacher, in the village of Steinen, he scornfully exclaimed,
" Is it to be endured that the clownish class of peasants
should erect such handsome houses?" On another occasion,
when Arnold Anderhalden, of Melchthal, in the territory of
Untervvalden, was sentenced for some trivial offence to forfeit
a yoke of fine oxen, a servant of Landenberg's unyoked the
oxen himself from the plough, remarking, " that boors
ought to draw their own ploughs." This language so incensed
yoUng Arnold, that he levelled a blow at the man, which
broke two of his fingers, and then immediately fled into the
mountains. To revenge this offence, an order was issued by
Landenberg, by which the aged father of Arnold was sen-
tenced to have both his eyes put out.

On the other hand, those who became the partisans of the
governors, and were subservient in every thing to their wills,
received marks of favour and indulgence, and were declared i»
every contested matter to be in the right. The immediate
patronage of these petty despots, however, did not in every
case shield those who presumed to avail themselves of it, for
wicked and criminal purposes. Thus, when the governor of
the castle, situated in the island of Schwanau, in the lake of
Loweiz, had dishonoured a young girl of good family in Arth,
the brothers avenged her wrong by putting him to death. In
like manner, when the young Lord of Wolfenschiess, in Un-

WILLIAM TELL. 387

tervvalden, the friend of Landenberg, saw the beautiful wife of
Conrad of Baumgarten, at Alzellen, and finding her husband
was absent, desired, in the most revolting terms, that she
would prepare him a baih, she called her husband from the
fields, and having related to him what had passed, he sacrificed
to his rage the licentious young noble whilst still in the bath.
Thus, as equity and public justice had vanished, every man
became the avenger of his own wrongs, a system which must
ever lead to the greatest mischief and disorders.

Whilst the people of Waldstetten were thus humbled and
groaning beneath the yoke of their haughty oppressors, the
wife of Werner Stauffacher, of the village of Sleinen, addressed
him one day in these words : — " How long shall arrogance
triumph and humility weep ? Shall foreigners become masters
of the land, and heirs to our property ? What avails it that
our mountains are inhabited by men ? Are we mothers to
suckle sons doomed to become beggars, and bring up our
daughters as slaves to foreigners ? This cannot be !" Imme-
diately, and without reply, Stauffacher set forward to Brunnen,
traversed the lake, and arriving in the territory of Uri, pro-
ceeded to the house of Walter Fiirst at Attinghausen, where
he found, in concealment, Arnold of Melchthal, who had
escaped across the mountains from the rage of Landenberg.

They discoursed on the degraded and miserable condition of
their country, and of the revolting cruelty of the foreign
governors, whom the Emperor had sent amongst them con-
trary to their hereditary rights and privileges j called to mind
the vain complaints they had made to the sovereign of the
crimes of his representatives, who had not only turned a deaf
ear to their grievances, but threatened to sever them from the
empire, and to place them under the dominion of Austria ; they
reasoned that even death was less intolerable than the con-
tinuance of so ignominious a yoke. They came to the reso.
lution, therefore, that each should communicate with the trusty
and courageous within his own canton, and sound the opi-
nions and dispositions of the people, with a view of discover-

L L 2

388 THE SWISS CONFEDERATION :

ing what efforts they were willing to make, to re- establish
security and independence.

After this conference they often assembled at concerted
hours at night, in a secret place on the borders of the lake of
Lucern, the central point of the cantons of Uri, Unterwalden,
and Schwyz ; forming a narrow meadow surrounded with
thickets, at the foot of the rock of Seelisberg, and opposite to
the little village of Brunnen. This spot, called from the
clearing and up-rooting of the trees, Rutli or Grutli, was re-
mote from every habitation. They soon brought to each
other the joyful intelligence that the people were unanimous in
preferring death to the ignominious yoke which oppressed them.
On assembling, in the night of the 1 7th of November, 1307,
when each of them brought with him to the meadow of Rutli
ten true and brave confederates — men who valued the ancient
liberties of their country far beyond their lives — the brave
three, with hands uplifted towards the starry firmament,
swore before him, in whose eyes kings and peasants are
equal, faithfully to live and die for the rights of their injured
country ; to undertake all for the common good ; to endure no
wrong, and avoid committing any j to respect the rights and
property of the Count of Habsburg ; to prevent the imperial
governors from completing the ruin of their native land, but to
offer no injury to any of them. The other thirty, in like
manner, with outstretched hands, joined in the oath to God
and the Saints, manfully to assert their freedom. After hav-
ing fixed upon the night of the new year to begin their enter-
prise, they separated.

Meanwhile the evil conscience of the Hermann Gessler
did not allow him entire repose. He thought he per-
ceived that the people walked abroad with more confidence,
and carried in their looks a haughtier expression. With a
view, therefoie, of clearing up his doubts and suspicions, he
caused the ducal hat of Austria to be fixed on a pole in the
territory of Uri, and commanded that every one should
honour it by bowing as he passed before it : by this de-

WILLIAM TELL. 389

vice he hoped to discover who were the enemies of
Austria.

It happened that William Tell, the cross-bowman of Bur-
glen, and one of the men of Grutli, passed before this symbol
of Austrian tyranny, but without paying the required homage.
He was instantly seized and conducted to the governor, who,
incensed at his hardihood, addressed him in these words —
" Know, audacious bowman, that thy own art shall serve to
punish thee : — thou art sentenced to shoot from off thy own
son's head an apple — take thy aim and miss it not."

The boy having been bound, and an apple placed on his
head, they led Tell to a considerable distance off; — he took
his aim — the twang of the bow-string was heard — the joyful
shouts of the people proclaimed that the arrow had hit the
apple. Gessler, however, turning to Tell, said : — " Why hast
thou brought with thee a second arrow r" " If the first," re-
plied he, " had not hit the apple, the second would hardly
have missed thy heart."

Alarmed at this intrepid reply, the governor had the bowman
seized, and conducted on board a boat for Kussnacht, whither
he intended also to proceed, for he did not deem it advisable
to imprison Tell in the territory of Uri, on account of the
people ; and to drag him away to prison in a foreign country
was contrary to tfee established laws of the land. The
governor, apprehensive, therefore, of a rising among the
people, lost no time in embarking, notwithstanding it was
blowing a strong gale. The surface of the lake was broken
into great chasms, and the foaming waves dashed over the
boat so violently that all on board were filled with dismay.
The further they advanced, the more imminent the danger
grew ; for the shores of the lake are formed by rocks so pre-
cipitous and lofty, that, like walls, they seem to rise from the
water perpendicularly to the clouds. Gessler, overcome by
their perilous situation, and knowing Tell's skill as a boatman,
ordered his chains to be taken off, and the management of the
bark to be given to him. Tell now steered for the bare and

L L 3

390 THE swiss CONFEDERATION:

rugged declivity of Axenberg, where a ledge of rock projects
a few paces into the lake. Arrived at this spot, he sprang
from the boat, which instantly drifted down the lake.

Thus delivered from his danger, he clambered up the rocks
and fled across the territory of Schwyz : but soon, with an-
guished heart, he demanded of himself, — " Whither shall I
fly from the tyrant's rage? If I escape his malice, has he not
a hostage in my wife and children, whom I leave behind ?
Where is the tribunal before which I can summon the tyrant,
when the king himself no longer hearkens to the cries of a
whole people ? Since, then, the laws are become a dead letter,
since there is none to judge between thee and me, then,
Gessler, are we both free of all law, save that of self-preser-
vation and defence !"

Such were the thoughts which agitated the breast of Tell,
when, hastening, armed with bow and arrow, to Kussnacht,
concealing himself in a hollow, close to that place, he
awaited the approach of the governor. He came — and the
hissing bowstring conveyed the arrow of freedom to the ty-
rant's heart.

Cries of joy, not unmingled with terror, pervaded the whole
country at the tidings of the oppressor's death. The exploit of
Tell infused new courage into every breast : — new year's
night, however, was not yet arrived.

The eventful moment at length appeared. It was then that
one of the young men, who had taken the oath at Grutli, re-
paired to the castle of Rossberg in Obwalden, to visit a young
girl to whom he was betrothed, and who, by means of a rope,
drew him from the castle-moat into her apartment. Twenty
others, however, were concealed beneath, and he had no sooner
gained admittance than he drew them up by the same means.
When they were all within the castle, they immediately made
themselves masters of the governor and his servants, and took
possession of the entire castle.

As soon as it was day, Landenberg left the royal castle of
Sarnen, in order to repair to mass. On his way he was met

WILLIAM TELL. 391

by twenty men from Unterwalden, bearing the customary
uew-year's presents. The governor having graciously bid
them enter the castle, they had no sooner arrived under the
gate than one of them blew his horn, upon which the rest
drew forth well sharpened irons, which they fastened on
their staves, and proceeded to seize the castle, whilst thirty
others, concealed in a neighbouring alder-wood, advanced to
their support. Landenberg, terrified, fled across the meadows
to Alpnach, but being soon retaken, he was made to swear,
with all his retainers, to quit for ever the territory of Wald-
stetten. He was then permitted to depart for Lucern, with-
out injury having been offered to any one, and immedi-
ately afterwards bonfires were seen blazing along the Alps.

lu the meantime Stauffacher, accompanied by the men of
Schwyz, proceeded to the lake of Lowerz, where they demo-
lished the castle of Schwanau, whilst those of Uri advanced
against the fortress of Gessler, which they seized.

Again the Alps proclaimed with their blazing fires the new-
year.of liberty !

PERSONAL ANECDOTES

FREDERICK THE GREAT.

To a mind like that of Frederick, those trifles, to which
etiquette attaches value, were by no means suitable ; he
therefore often treated with ridicule the empty ceremonies
and formalities dictated by custom. When on taking the
reins of government, he journied into Prussia to receive the
homage of his subjects, the Marquis d'Argens was obliged to
accompany him. When arrived in Berlin, he thus addressed
the Marquis : — " Tell me, Marquis, how one ought to act
at such homage-ceremony ; you hare witnessed enough of such
scenes in France, and must therefore know something of it ?"
Upon which the Marquis entered into the necessary details.
On the day of homage, and when the king was about to sit
on the throne, it was perceived by the Marquis that he wore
a dress sword, a circumstance which he whispered to the King,
saying, that he ought to have a more imposing weapon buckled
to his side. " But where can we get the one you describe in
time ?" asked the King.

" If that cannot he procured," replied the Marquis, "your
Majesty must exchange the one you have for the sabre of
one of your officers." which was done forthwith.

After the ceremony was concluded, the King turned to the
Marquis, and said, " Well, Marquis, have I managed the affair
pretty well ?"

" O yes, please your Majesty — but — there was one that did
it better still."

ANECDOTES OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. 393

" Indeed ! And pray who was he ?" demanded the
King.

" Louis the XVth," returned the Marquis.

" Hum — but I know one that performed his task still
better," exclaimed Frederick.

"And he was " inquired the Marquis —

" The most talented actor of our stage, Mr. Baron !''

Shortly after Frederick succeeded to the throne, one of his
favorites, whom he had with him whilst Crown Prince, was
intoxicated with joy at the happy prospect held out to
him. Full of this idea, he sat down and wrote as follows
to a friend at Paris : — " At length, dear T — , our beloved
master has ascended the throne of his ancestors. Hasten, my
dear fellow, to Berlin ; you will most certainly make your
fortune, and here only gaiety and enjoyment of every kind
await your presence ;" adding a description of the jovial scenes
they would then mutually share in their sovereign's society.
Meantime, the king happened to enter the room, which the
writer, absorbed in his correspondence, had not observed.
His royal master having perused the document over the
author's shoulder, seized it up suddenly, and tearing it into
pieces, scattered the fragments on the ground, and exclaimed
in a tone of severe indignation : " What does this compo-
sition mean ! These sort of fooleries have now, sir, reached
their climax !"

Immediately after succeeding to the throne, he commanded
that in all the prayers of the church, whenever he was in-
troduced with the empty, worldly, high sounding titles in
ordinary use, such should be abolished, and instead thereof
he substituted the following simple form of prayer : — " We
recommend to thee, Oh, God, our king, thy servant."

In the course of a journey, which Frederick once made
into Holland, quite incognito, giving himself out as a musician,

394 PERSONAL ANECDOTES

he arrived at a small inn in Amsterdam, celebrated for the
rich cakes produced there. Feeling a desire to taste one, he com-
manded his travelling companion and aid-de-camp, Colonel von
Balby.toorder one of the landlady. TbeColonel obeyed thecom-
mand, but the landlady, rather suspicious of her plainly-dressed
guests, measured him from top to toe, and exclaimed : " It is
all very well for you to order it, but, pray sir, can you pay for
it ? Do you know that such a cake as you order, will cost
more than three pounds ?" To this the Colonel replied, by
assuring her, that the gentleman with whom he travelled
was immensely rich, that he played the flute so beautifully,
that whenever he performed in public a considerable sum of
money was collected in a very short lime.

" Indeed ! Aye, then," said the landlady, " I must cer-
tainly hear him." Upon which she hurried on before the
Colonel to the king's chamber and said very politely, " I un-
derstand, sir, that you can play a tune very well ; oblige me
by warbling something for me to hear 1" Frederick could
not imagine what she meant, but the Colonel explaining to
him in French the origin of this singular request, he laughed,
and seizing his instrument from the table, played in such a
masterly style that the listener was struck with admira-
tion, and when, to her sorrow, he ceased, she exclaimed,
"Bravo ! I see, sir, you can indeed whistle very well, and I
dare say can earn a few pence. Well, you shall have your
cake !"

In 1752, en Englishman was received at court; he pos-
sessed an extraordinary memory, and after some fifty, nay a
hundred pages of a work had been read to him, he could
forthwith repeat the whole, word for word, from recollection.
Frederick was much struck with this man's gift of memory,
and putting it one evening to the proof, found by the result
a confirmation of the statement. It was just at this mo-
ment, that Voltaire sent to ask, if his Majesty had half an
hour's leisure time to hear him read to him a poem he had

OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. 395

just completed ? The king, struck with the request coming so
apropos, determined upon passing a joke at that vain man's
expense, and sent a reply in the affirmative. He ordered
the Englishman to take his station behind a screen, and re-
quested him to treasure up in his memory every line and
word that Voltaire might recite. The great poet arrived, and
read through the whole of his verses with great declamation
and evident self-satisfaction. The king listened with appa-
rent coolness and indifference, and then said : " Why, I must
candidly confess, my dear Voltaire, that it strikes me you
appropriate as your own the production of others ! I have
noticed it more than once before. This poem is again another
instance." His indignation at being thought a plagiarist
produced upon Voltaire's countenance, always a subject for
the caricaturist, an expression more than usually harsh and
bitter. He expressed himself highly offended and mortified ;
his Majesty had been misled by his treacherous memory to
commit a great error, and he had acted with still greater
injustice.

"But how if I prove to you that these verses are by an
Englishman, how then ?"

"All that your Majesty may bringforward in contradiction,
all assurances are for me but empty words, for I can disprove
all and every thing !" Upon this, Frederick ordered the
Englishman (who hadjust before glided away from his screen
into the next room) to be brought back. He was commanded
by the king to recite again the verses lie had shortly before
repeated, and accordingly gave Voltaire's poem word for word,
without a single omission. Almost mad with rage, the poet
rose and exclaimed, " Heaven ! destroy with your thunder
this robber of my verses ! Here is some magic in play which
will drive me to desperation !" With these words he rushed
out in the greatest agitation.

Frederick was delighted with this mystification, a proof
how little he esteemed at heart Voltaire, and the other French-
men he had about him.

396 PERSONAL ANECDOTES

The King having observed that his surgeon, Sharp, who
usually bled him, had become rather agitated and tremulous
whenever he was required to perform that operation, was de-
sirous of discharging him, and engaging some other person
instead. Accordingly, he desired the attendance of another,
who had been recommended to him. Frederick asked him,
directly, his name. " Are you Mr. V — ?"
" Yes, please your Majesty ?"

" Well. Now listen to me. I will engage you to bleed me ;
but take notice, that you must treat me just the same as one of
my soldiers, for in this point we are all the same ; and if you
betray fear in bleeding roe, you cannot possibly succeed. Do
you now understand me ?" The surgeon replied in the affirm-
ative.

" Well, then, now come and give a specimen." The doc-
tor bound the arm of the king, but his lancet produced no
blood from it.

" Do you see, now,'' said the king, mildly, "you were fright-
ened ? Come, try again, but without fear." This time the
blood came.

"You see what fear produces," said the king, smiling.
"You shall always bleed me; but remember, let me have
no trembling nor timidity. I warn you of this, once and for
all."

An Englishman of rank, and great wealth, having requested
to be permitted to serve in the campaign of 1757, as a volun-
teer, Frederick granted his wish, and the noble recruit arrived,
in a splendid carriage, and attended by several servants ; in
fact, displaying an unusual lavishment of expense and luxury.
He received, however, no mark of distinction, and very little,
or no attention, being generally stationed in the waggon-train.
He bore no part in any engagement, much less in any battle,
and had to experience the mortification of not sharing in the
victorious action of Rossbach. He had often sent a written
complaint to the king, but without any efiect; at length he

OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. 397

had an opportunity of doing so in person, when Frederick
replied :

" Your style of living, sir, is not the fashion in my
army j in fact, it is highly offensive and objectionable. With-
out the greatest moderation, it is impossible to learn to bear
the fatigues which accompany every war, and if you cannot
determine to submit to the strict discipline of my troops, I
would advise you, in a friendly way, to return to England."

In the fortified camp near Bunzelwitz, Frederick shared in
all the fatigues and sufferings of his common soldiers. Many
nights he slept on one of the batteries, reposing upon a bundle
of straw amongst his men. One night he rose, and thought-
fully proceeded, with General Ziethen, between the lines of
watch-fires, around which his worn-out men were sleeping.
One trooper, however, was busy baking a cake, made of bacon
and flour. The fragrant smell reached the king's nose, and
he addressed the soldier in a friendly tone, " That cake, com-
rade, smells very good !"

" I believe you," was the man's answer, without looking
up, " but you won't catch any more than a smell of it !"

" For Heaven's sake," exclaimed one or two of his com*
rades, who had started up at the king's voice, " What are
you about ? Don't you see it is the king!" The soldier,
believing they were only joking, still attending to his cake,
without allowing himself to be interrupted, said, " Ha ! ha !
well and suppose it really was the king, what does that
matter !"

" We shan't be invited to supper here to-night," said
Frederick to Ziethen, " So we will go on !"

Once, Frederick marched at the head of the grenadiers of his
guards until late at night. At length he made halt, dis-
mounted, and said, " Grenadiers, it is cold to-night ! Come,
light a fire!" He wrapped his blue mantle around him, and
seated himself upon some bundles of wood, whilst his grena-
diers laid themselves down around him. At length General
Ziethen came up, and sat himself down next to the king.

-M M

398 PERSONAL, ANECDOTES

Both, extremely tired and worn out, soon fell asleep j the
king, however, was the first to awake, and observing that
Ziethen in his sleep had slipped from off the bundle of wood,
and a grenadier was replacing it under his head, exclaimed
softly, "Ah, the old man is indeed tired!" Just afterwards
another grenadier, only half awake, sprung up, and proceeding
to light his pipe, happened to touch against Ziethen's foot.
Frederick rose up suddenly, and holding up his finger to the
soldier, said, in a whisper, " Hush, Grenadier ! take care,
don't wake up Zeithen, he is tired enough ! Let him sleep ;
he has watched long and often enough for us !"

During the retreat from Bohemia in 1778, the regiment of
Von Thuna covered the rear, and suffered much from the
attacks of the Austrians. Frederick followed in the ranks of
this regiment, in order to observe with more certainty the
movements of the enemy. The Colonel, Von Sydow, whom
the King much esteemed as a brave and zealous officer, hav-
ing received a shot in the arm, he rode up to him directly, and
said, " My brave Sydow, I see you are wounded ; pray retire
directly and have your wound dressed. I will take your place
for the present, and be assured, during your absence, all shall
be done the same as if you were here in person !"

The Kiug, whilst staying in Potsdam, in 1786, felt himself
very feeble, and taking advantage of one fine spring day,
he had himself conveyed upon the lawn to enjoy the warm
rays of the sun. Having thus reposed for a short time,
he observed that both the ceutinels stationed there retained
the whole of the time the position they had taken on
his first appearance, according to the rules of the service,
standing there like two statues. He made a sign to one of
them to come to him, and said, in a kind and benignant tone,
'• You are free to walk up and down your appointed distance j
you cannot remain so long standing, as I find it easy to sit on
one spot."

OP FREDERICK THE GREAT. 399

In his last illness Frederick displayed great mildness and
patience, and acknowledged with gratitude the trouble and
pain he caused those around him. During one sleepless
night, he called to the page keeping watch in the room, and
asked him what o'clock it was ? The man replied, it had
just struck two. " Ah, then it is still too soon !" ex-
claimed the King, " but I cannot sleep ! See whether any
of the other attendants are awake, but do not disturb them if
they are still sleeping, for, poor fellows, they are tired enough.
But if you find Neumann (his favourite Yager) awaking,
say to him, you believe the King wishes soon to rise. But
mind, do not awake any one !"

THE END.

J. S. Hodson, Printer, Cross Street, Hatton Garden.

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