The young man blushed up to the forehead. Since Bertha"s departure she had not been the subject of conversation between him and his host, and therefore his sly question took him so much the more by surprise. "I perceive," said he, "that you do not understand me yet. You believe I have only turned my back on the League for the purpose of joining the enemy? How can you think so ill of me?"
"Ah! away with you," replied the wary scribe; "no one else but my charming cousin has influenced your conduct. You would have shut an eye to every thing the League did, had old Lichtenstein been on our side; but now that you know he belongs to the other party, you think yourself justified in joining it also."
Albert might defend himself as well as he could; the secretary was too firmly rooted in his opinion to allow himself to be talked out of it.
Moreover, he thought this step very natural, and saw nothing in it dishonourable or blamable. With a hearty remembrance to his cousin in Lichtenstein, he left the room of his guest. But on the threshold of the door he turned round again, and said, "I had almost forgotten to mention, that I met George von Fronsberg in the street, who begs you will go and see him this evening at his house."
Albert had already determined not to depart without taking leave of Fronsberg, but he felt nervous at appearing before a man whose intentions towards him were kind, but whose plans he had thwarted. He buckled on his sword, thinking upon this painful meeting, and was arranging his cloak, when his attention was drawn to an unusual noise on the stairs. Heavy steps of a party of men approached his door; he thought he heard the clatter of swords and halberts on the stone floor of the ante-room. He stepped quickly towards the door to ascertain the cause of this visit; but before he reached it, it opened, and by the light of a few candles he perceived many armed men about to enter. The same old soldier who had received him when he went to the council of war, stepped forward.
"Albert von Sturmfeder!" said he to the young man, who retreated a step in astonishment, "by order of the grand council of war I make you my prisoner."
"Me--prisoner?" said Albert, with consternation. "Why? what am I guilty of?"
"That "a not my affair," answered the old man, surlily, "but probably you will not be left long in ignorance. Be so good to deliver up your sword to me, and follow me to the town hall."
"How? give up my sword?" replied the young man in the rage of insulted pride. "Who are you that dares to demand my weapon? The council must send men of a different stamp for that purpose before I submit; I know too well what your profession is."
"For G.o.d"s sake give up your sword," cried his friend, the secretary, who forced himself through the crowd to his side, "obey the order--resistance were vain. You have to do with Truchses," he whispered: "he is a fearful enemy; do not force him to extremities."
The old soldier, interrupting the secretary, said, "It is perhaps the first time, sir, you have been arrested; therefore I forgive the hasty language you have made use of against a man who has slept in the same tent with your father. You may, however, retain your sword: I well know its hilt and scabbard, and I have witnessed many a deed of glory achieved with its blade. It is praiseworthy of you to be jealous of its falling into other hands. But you must come with me to the town hall, for it were folly in you to bid defiance to power."
The young man, to whom every thing appeared a dream, submitted quietly to his fate. He whispered to his friend the secretary to go to Fronsberg, and inform him of his arrest, and concealing his person as much as possible under his cloak, to avoid the unpleasant gaze of the crowd in the streets, followed the old leader, surrounded by his party.
CHAPTER XI.
The iron door upon its hinges creaks, A lurid light upon the prison breaks, The captive, starting at a footstep"s sound, Springs from his lonely couch, to gaze around.
WIELAND.
The troop, surrounding their prisoner, moved on in silence towards the town hall. A single torch was their only light on the way, and Albert thanked Heaven that it gave but a feeble glare; for he fancied that every one who met him must suppose he was being led to prison. But this was not the only thought which engrossed his mind. This was the first time in his life he had been in any dilemma, and it was not without dread that he figured to himself all the horrors of a damp dreary dungeon, remembering to have visited the one in his old castle. He was on the point of speaking to his leader on the subject, when it struck him he might be accused of a childish fear, and therefore he proceeded in silence.
He was, however, not a little surprised when he was led into a large handsome room, not very habitable indeed, as its furniture consisted only of a bedstead, and an uncommon large fire-place, but it was a palace compared to what his imagination had conjured up. The old soldier wished his prisoner a good night, and retired with the rest of his party. A little thin old man then made his appearance; a large bunch of keys, which hung by his side, rattling like a chain when he moved, announced him as the gaoler or servant of the town hall. He laid some large logs of wood in the fire-place, and made a blazing fire; a cheering companion on a cold night in March. He then spread an ample woollen covering on the bedstead, and the first word that Albert heard from him was a friendly invitation to make himself comfortable. He thanked the old man for his kind attention, though his place of rest for the night did not offer much to tempt him to repose.
"This apartment is set aside for knights in your situation," said the old gaoler; "the common people are confined under ground, and are not so well off."
"Is it long since any one lodged here?" asked Albert, looking around the room.
"A Herr von Berger was the last; he died on that very bed seven years ago: G.o.d be merciful to his soul! He appeared to be fond of this place, for he often rises from his coffin at midnight to visit his old quarters."
"How?" said Albert, smiling, "has he been seen since his death?"
The old man looked fearfully around the room, now faintly lighted by the dying embers of the fire: he put another log on, and murmured, "Ah, many strange stories are about."
"Did he die on that covering?" said Albert, whilst an involuntary shudder came over him.
"Yes, sir," whispered the gaoler, "he breathed his last on that very covering; G.o.d grant he may not have descended lower than purgatory!
That covering is now called his winding-sheet, and this apartment the knight"s death-room!" With this, the old man quietly slipt out of the room, as if he were afraid the slightest noise might awaken the departed knight.
"And so I am to sleep on the winding-sheet in the death-room of the knight," thought Albert, and felt his heart beat quicker, for his nurse and old servants had often related ghost stories to him in his boyhood.
He was undecided whether he should lay himself on the bed. There was neither stool nor bench in the room; and the brick paved floor was still colder and harder than the appointed place of repose; but he began to feel ashamed of his fears, and at once rolled himself in the winding-sheet on the death-bed of the knight.
A clear conscience softens a hard bed. Albert said his prayers, and soon fell asleep. But it did not last long, for he was awoke by strange noises, which appeared to be in the room. He thought it was a dream; he took courage--he listened--he listened again: it was no deception--he heard heavy footsteps in his apartment. The fire at this moment blazed up, and threw its light upon a large dark figure. The distance of the fire-place from the bed was not great. The figure moved towards him; he felt the winding-sheet shake; he was unable to control a momentary shudder, when a cold hand, endeavouring to remove the covering, fell on his forehead. He sprang up, and eyeing the figure which stood before him by the light of the fire, he recognised the well-known features of George von Fronsberg.
"Is it you, general?" said Albert, who now breathed more freely, and threw his cloak aside to receive the knight with proper respect.
"Remain, remain where you are," said the other, and gently compelled him to resume his seat; "I will set myself beside you, and have half an hour"s talk, for it is only just past nine o"clock, and no one is yet in bed in Ulm, excepting such hot-brained fellows as you, whose heads require cooling on a hard pillow."
"Oh! how can I merit this kind consideration at your hands," said Albert, "after having treated your good intentions towards me with apparent ingrat.i.tude?"
"No excuse, my young friend," answered the general, "you are but the counterpart of your father; just like him, precipitate in praise and blame, in decision and speech. That he was an honorable man, I know, and I know also how unhappy his violent temper made him, as well as his obstinacy, which he called firmness."
"But tell me, dear sir," replied Albert, "could I have acted otherwise to-day? Did not the conduct of Truchses push me to extremities?"
"You might have acted otherwise, if you had humoured the ways of that man, who gave you a specimen of his character the other day. You ought to have known also that there were many present who would not have seen you imposed upon. But you threw away the good with the bad, or as the proverb says, "You threw away the child out of the bathing tub with the water," and flew out of the room."
"Age and experience will, I trust, cool my blood in due time," replied Albert; "I can put up with harshness and severity, when they do not affect my honour. But premeditated insult, contempt for the misfortunes of my family, is beyond all bearing. What pleasure could a man of his high station find in wounding my feelings?"
"His wrath always manifests itself in that way," Fronsberg informed him; "the more cool and collected he appears outwardly, the more fiercely he burns within. It was his idea alone to send you to Tubingen, partly because he knew of no one else who was so well acquainted with the place, partly because he wished to repair the injustice he had done you. But you have affronted him by your refusal, and lowered him in the eyes of the council of war."
"How!" cried Albert, "Truchses himself proposed me? I thought it was your doing."
"No," answered the General, with a significant smile; "no, I did all I could to prevent it; but to no purpose, for I could not tell him the real state of the case. I knew, before you came before us, that you would decline accepting the office. But do not open your eyes so wide, as if you would pierce through one"s leather jacket, and look into my heart. I know enough of the history of my young hot-brain!"
Albert felt confused. "Were not my reasons satisfactory?" said he: "is there any thing more you wish to know, and which you may think mysterious?"
"There is nothing exactly mysterious; but you should have decided upon your line of action beforehand, for if you do not wish to be noticed, you ought not to conduct yourself at b.a.l.l.s as if you were afflicted with St. Vitus" dance, nor visit a couple of pretty girls at three o"clock in the afternoon. Yes, yes, my son, I know many things," he added, whilst he good-naturedly threatened with his finger: "I know also that that impetuous heart of yours beats for Wurtemberg."
Albert blushed; and would gladly have avoided the piercing look of the knight. "Beats for Wurtemberg?" he replied: "you do me wrong; you cannot call that going over to the enemy; upon my honour, I swear----"
"Do not swear," Fronsberg quickly interrupted him: "an oath is an easy thing to take, but not so easy to be absolved from; it is like an oppressive chain which we cannot shake off. I am convinced your honour will not suffer by your actions. Instead of an oath, you must promise one thing to the League, namely, not to draw your sword against us for the next fourteen days; and on these conditions only will you be released from arrest."
"I see you still entertain a false opinion of me," said Albert, agitated: "I could not have thought it! how unnecessary is that promise! To whom else should I offer my services? The Swiss have withdrawn their aid from the Duke, the peasantry have dispersed, the knights guard the fortresses, and will take care not to let the army of the League within their walls; the Duke himself has fled----"
"Fled!" cried Fronsberg: "that"s not quite so certain;--where did you hear this? Have you been tampering with any of the members of the council of war? or is it true, as some maintain, that you carry on a suspicious correspondence with Wurtemberg?"
"Who dares a.s.sert that?" cried Albert.
The piercing eye of Fronsberg darted a searching look at Albert. "You are too young, and I believe too honourable, to be guilty of such a villanous deed," said he; "and should you even have had such an intention, we know you would have scarcely quitted the League, but have remained among us as Wurtemberg"s spy. This clears you in my mind.
Appearances, however, are against you."
"Am I then so evil spoken against? If you have a particle of regard for me, tell me who is the wretch that has thus calumniated me," said Albert, starting up in anger.
"Do not be so violent," replied Fronsberg. "Do you suppose, that if George von Fronsberg had heard such things spoken of in public, or believed the report, he would have come to visit you? But there must be some foundation for the report. A suspicious-looking countryman often came to old Lichtenstein in the town; he was not at first particularly noticed among the many a.s.sembled here. But it was hinted to us, that this man, a cunning, crafty fellow, was a confidential messenger from Wurtemberg. Lichtenstein took his departure; and the countryman and his mysterious occupation were forgotten. He appeared, however, again this morning, and had a long conversation with you outside the town; and was seen afterwards in your house. Now what is the meaning of this?"
Albert heard his friend with increasing astonishment. "As true as G.o.d lives," said he, when Fronsberg had finished, "I am innocent. A countryman came to me this morning----" Albert was silent.
"Well, why are you silent all at once?" asked Fronsberg; "you colour up to the eyes: what have you to do with this messenger?"