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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e49ffb --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69625 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69625) diff --git a/old/69625-0.txt b/old/69625-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7c7c5bf..0000000 --- a/old/69625-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4520 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Feudal tyrants, volume 4 (of 4), by -Christiane Benedicte Eugenie Hebenstreit Naubert - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Feudal tyrants, volume 4 (of 4) - The counts of Carlsheim and Sargans - -Author: Christiane Benedicte Eugenie Hebenstreit Naubert - -Translator: Matthew Gregory Lewis - -Release Date: December 23, 2022 [eBook #69625] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Barry Abrahamsen and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FEUDAL TYRANTS, VOLUME 4 (OF -4) *** - - - - - - - - FEUDAL TYRANTS, Volume IV. - - ◆ ◆ ◆ - - - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - FEUDAL TYRANTS; - - - OR, - - - _The Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans_. - - - A ROMANCE. - - _TAKEN FROM THE GERMAN._ - - IN FOUR VOLUMES. - - - ◆ ◆ ◆ - - BY M. G. LEWIS, - - AUTHOR OF - - _The Bravo of Venice, Adelgitha, Rugantino, &c._ - - ◆ ◆ ◆ - - VOL. IV. - - - ═══════════════════ - _SECOND EDITION_. - ═══════════════════ - - The portals sound, and pacing forth - With stately steps and slow, - High potentates, and dames of regal birth, - And mitred fathers in long order go. - - — GRAY. - - ══════════════════════════════════ - - London: - - Printed by D. N. SHURY, Berwick-Street, Soho, - - FOR J. F. HUGHES, WIGMORE STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. - ── - 1807 - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - FEUDAL TYRANTS, - - &c. &c. &c. - - ═════════════════════ - - - _PART THE SEVENTH._ - - - ═════════════════════ - - CONTINUATION OF - - “THE SISTERS WITHOUT A NAME.” - - _Written by the Abbot of Cloister-Curwald._ - - -Oh! noble Elizabeth! you to whom these leaves are more particularly -addrest, have you had resolution sufficient to read thus far? will you -possess sufficient presence of mind to enable you to continue the -perusal of this writing, now that I have placed before you the most -important and most cruel transactions, which have occurred throughout -your whole life, and by which your whole life has been embittered? and -will you, when at length you reach the conclusion of my painful -narrative, magnanimously sacrifice your long-cherished prejudices; and -daring to gaze steadily on the light of truth, will you learn to excuse -and to pity, to regret and to forgive? - -Before I relate the transactions, which followed the fatal interview -between Ida and her lover on your bridal day, I must request your -patient attention, while I relate those incidents of Henry of Montfort’s -earlier days, which I believe to be still unknown to you. It is thus -only, that I can enable you to form a correct and unbiassed judgment of -the case. - -Henry’s father stood already on the brink of the grave, when his son was -born: he died, while Henry was still an infant. His wife soon followed -him. The care of the little orphan now devolved upon an uncle, who would -have been much better pleased, if the deceased Count of Montfort had -died without progeny, and had left him the undivided inheritance of his -fertile and extensive domains. - -By his brother’s will this uncle was appointed guardian to the young -orphan, and destined to be his representative, till Henry should attain -the age of twenty-one. This limitation of his power was by no means to -Count Egbert’s taste. He would willingly have disputed the legitimacy of -Henry’s birth; but the acknowledged virtue of the late Countess made it -impossible to fix any suspicions upon her character. However, by dint of -solicitations, of powerful protection at Vienna, and (above all) of -considerable sums of money distributed among the Emperor’s favourites, -he contrived to get his nephew’s claims set aside till after his own -decease; though the decree, which thus established Count Egbert’s -succession to the inheritance, positively excluded any children which he -might have, and regulated, that they should only succeed to the estates -of Montfort, in case of Henry’s dying without heirs. - -Though Count Egbert was already advanced in years, and was still a -bachelor, nevertheless he was highly offended at the restriction thus -established against his lineal descendants, in case it should ever -please Heaven to bestow upon him such blessings. The sight of the child -became hateful to him; and in hopes of at once relieving himself from -its presence, and of removing an obstacle to his contracting a suitable -marriage, he gave his little nephew in charge to one of his servants, -whom he believed capable of executing any villainy; at the same time -telling him—“To do with the brat whatever he thought would be most -conducive to his master’s interests.”—Some little remains of conscience -prevented his declaring his wishes in more express terms; but what he -said, was quite sufficient to make his meaning very far from ambiguous. - -Count Egbert’s servant was a native of Switzerland. He gave his lord to -understand, that he perfectly comprehended him, and made no difficulty -of taking a solemn oath, that he would punctually obey his injunctions -as exprest above. After an absence of some weeks he returned without the -child; his reward was ample; and he immediately employed it in securing -a kind protection for the orphan Henry, whom he had neither murdered, -nor abandoned to chance and the wide world, but had concealed him in a -shepherd’s-cottage near the Lake of the Four Cantons, in order the more -effectually to secure him against the malice of his unnatural uncle. The -shepherd died, and bequeathed the child, to the care of his master, the -venerable Melthal. Count Egbert’s servant (who occasionally visited -those parts in order to inquire after the safety of him, whom he had -rescued from destruction) was greatly rejoiced to find him under the -protection of old Melthal, who was universally esteemed to be one of the -wisest and best of mortals. He scrupled not to confide to him the secret -of Henry’s birth, and they arranged together the means of establishing -him in his rights at a future period. The servant paid the debt of -nature soon after this discovery, and the mystery of Henry’s rank and -claims remained in the sole possession of Melthal. - -He spared no expence in rendering the boy’s education equal to his -future hopes; and aware, that in all probability resolution and valour -would be the only means of reinstating him fully in the possession of -his rights, at an early period of life he sent the orphan away from his -retired and peaceful vallies, and took measures for his being brought up -to a life of arms. - -Melthal frequently forsook his cottage to visit the young Henry, who now -began to give tokens of a real inclination for his profession, and was -more distinguished in the Emperor’s army, than any other youth of the -same age: but he never invited Henry to return his visit among the -mountains of Switzerland. Now, however, that the old man was sinking -under the weight of years, and began to feel that distant journeys were -more than his debilitated frame could bear, he determined to send for -the son of his adoption, that he might declare to him his real origin, -and bestow a blessing on him, before they should part for ever. The -young man obeyed the call: his arrival was honoured by a rural festival; -and the young people of those happy vallies rejoiced in the acquisition -of such a youth, who (as they supposed) was returned home in order to -pass the remainder of his life among them, as their friend and fellow -citizen. - -You are already acquainted with the mutual attachment, to which this -festival gave rise by the meeting of Ida and Henry under the assumed -names of Rosanna Tell and Erwin Melthal. This attachment soon became -public, and among others came to the knowledge of old Melthal. An union -with the daughter of an Helvetian peasant (even though that peasant was -William Tell, and though the maiden herself was the perfection of -loveliness and virtue) threatened the destruction of all those exalted -plans, which the old man had been so long meditating in favour of his -adopted son; and he thought, nothing more would be necessary to make -Henry break off this unsuitable connection, than to discover his noble -origin to the youth, and to exhibit before him his great expectations in -their full splendour. He soon found, that real love makes the heart -consider all obstacles as trifles, and believe every thing is possible -except abandoning the object, to whom its adoration is vowed. - -Henry of Montfort continued to love that Rosanna, to whom Erwin Melthal -had sworn eternal fidelity: Ida, Countess of Werdenberg, (to whom her -real birth was discovered about the same period) preserved her -attachment to the humble peasant, to whom Rosanna Tell had pledged her -hand and her affections. Each had been sworn to secrecy; both concealed -the painful mystery in their respective bosoms; but neither suffered a -day to pass without repeating the assurance of fidelity beyond the -grave, though both were secretly conscious, how mighty were the -obstacles which opposed their keeping that assurance. - -They were separated. The Emperor’s commands summoned Henry to the army; -and the old Melthal thought, that in the present position of things a -slight falsehood would be justified by the intention, with which it was -fabricated.—Accordingly, a report was soon circulated, that his grandson -Erwin had fallen at the siege of Bender. It obtained universal credit; -and Ida, (for whose sole use the artifice had been designed) doubted -not, that her lover had perished on the field of glory. _One_ person -however (and that to his great mortification) was assured of the -inaccuracy of the report. No sooner had Henry left Helvetia, than -Melthal set out for the Castle of Montfort; he made known to the -astonished Count, that his nephew was still in existence, and spared -neither persuasions nor threats to induce the old usurper to reinstate -the true heir in his rights and titles. - -Threats and persuasions from the mouth of a man of sense and probity -came with a force, that few villains however hardened are able to resist -entirely. Count Egbert trembled in the presence of his venerable -monitor; and he presumed not to give him such a reply, as he would -willingly have done, had he followed his heart’s instigations. He -answered him with fair promises and professions, the trusting to which -cost the poor old man many a painful journey; till at length highly -exasperated at having been made so long the dupe of his soft words and -endless delays, he assumed a tone of such authority, as almost -frightened the trembling usurper out of his senses, and made him -solemnly swear to lose no time in acknowledging the claims of his -nephew. Unluckily, this scene agitated Melthal so violently, that the -consequence was an illness, which soon carried him to his grave. Count -Egbert did not let slip so good an opportunity of annihilating the hopes -of Henry; he easily persuaded the unconscious heirs of old Melthal to -give up to him the papers, which attested his nephew’s birth, and which, -(as they seemed to relate entirely to the Montfort family), they made no -doubt, were (as he asserted) his own peculiar property and no concern of -any other person’s. - -Now then who was so happy as the crafty Egbert? in the full exultation -of triumph he was persuaded, that the papers which he lost no time in -committing to the flames, were the only proofs of his nephew’s -existence. But in this respect he was deceived. When Henry departed for -the army, Melthal charged him to seize the first favourable opportunity -of laying his case before the emperor; for which purpose he furnished -him with the authentic documents of his real birth, and those which fell -into Count Egbert’s hands were nothing more valuable than mere copies. -The favourable opportunity, of which Melthal had spoken, was not tardy -in arriving. At the siege of Bender Henry behaved with such -distinguished gallantry as to make it the general opinion, that if all -his companions had performed their duty as well, the victory would have -been wrested from the hands of the infidels. - -The emperor was not the last to applaud his gallant demeanour. He -commanded him to name a reward; and Henry demanded to be re-instated in -those rights, to which he could establish his claim by proofs, that -would set all doubt at defiance. - -—“I do not wish,” said he, “that my uncle’s conduct towards me should -undergo too nice an examination; nor during his lifetime do I insist, -that my inheritance should be restored to me. I only demand for the -present to be acknowledged as a descendant of the house of Montfort, and -for the future to be protected in obtaining those advantages, to which I -may be able to substantiate a lawful claim.—I am not desirous of -expelling the old Count from the station, which he has so long occupied; -I only demand, that when his death shall leave that station vacant, I -may succeed to that, which in justice is my birth right.”— - -The Emperor Albert, who was already aware that under the administrations -of the debauched Venceslaus, and the careless Sigismund (his immediate -predecessors) much partiality had taken place in settling the affairs of -the Montfort family, and who besides wished most anxiously to serve his -favourite in every point that was not repugnant to justice, heard the -above declaration with pleasure, and praised the youthful warrior’s -generosity. Albert himself was generous, and it delighted him, when -others acted, as _he_ would have acted himself. - -On the next day Henry was declared by the emperor to be a Count of -Montfort, and was allotted a command suitable to his high rank and -distinguished services. This change of name contributed to support the -erroneous belief, that Erwin Melthal had never been heard of since the -battle of Bender, and that in all probability he had fallen in the -field. Ida therefore was sorrowing for his loss at the very moment, that -he was hastening back to the beloved valley, crowned with laurels, and -determined to share with her his honours and his happiness. - -Alas! that beloved valley was no longer to be recognised! dreadful -storms had laid it waste; the mountain-torrents had deluged the country; -and when he at length with difficulty had reached Tell’s habitation, he -found it silent and empty—the dreadful pestilence, which had more than -decimated the unfortunate inhabitants of those quarters, had raged with -peculiar fury in the house of Tell; but he was informed, that a remnant -of the family had taken refuge (so at least it was rumoured) in the -Convent of Engelberg. Thither Henry repaired without loss of time, but -he found no one capable of giving him either present comfort or future -hope. His apprehensions were converted into despair, when in reply to -his enquiries Tell’s humble grave was pointed out to him, and when he -beheld near it two smaller graves, which (he was assured) contained the -bodies of two of the old man’s grand-daughters. It is probable, that -this assurance was given not without foundation, for several of the -grand-children of Tell had followed him to Engelberg, and had there -fallen a prey to the inveteracy of the prevalent disease. - -The wretched Henry was thoroughly convinced, that the bones of Ida and -Constantia rested within those smaller graves. He knelt beside them; he -watered them with his tears, and abandoned himself to the most violent -emotions of anguish, which love and despair ever excited in the heart of -man. It was long, before he attained any degree of composure; and he -employed the first hour, in which his heart was sensible of a melancholy -resignation, in hastening to the Convent, and requesting to know every -particular respecting the death of the lovely sisters. He wished also to -enquire, why they had interred in the open church-yard the bodies of -those angels, whose virtues should have obtained for their tomb the most -distinguished spot to be found within the Convent’s sanctuary. - -The high-sounding title of “Count Henry of Montfort” obtained for him an -easy admission into the Convent-parlour; but he derived no benefit from -his visit to Engelberg. The old Abbess, who had superintended the -Convent during Constantia’s residence, had paid the debt of nature. The -present superior was totally ignorant of the history of the sisters; and -she could not help secretly suspecting, that the young-warrior’s -understanding was not quite as sound as it should have been, when with -considerable impetuosity he demanded as a matter of right, that the -grand-daughters of a common peasant, who had conferred on the -institution neither wealth nor honour, should be alloted a tomb in the -Chapel of St. Engeltruda! - -Henry was at length made to understand, that Ida’s remains appeared to -be sacred relics in no eyes but those of her lover: the only comfort, -which he now felt himself capable of enjoying, was to honour _her_ in -death, whom in life he had adored so truly: accordingly the greatest -part of the wealth, which he had earned in the Turkish wars, was -expended in raising a stately monument to Ida’s memory in the Chapel of -Engelberg. He burned with impatience to see (united with those of the -fair sisters) his own name engraved on the monument’s white marble, as -being that of the person by whose directions it was raised; and he -declared, that his heart could never taste repose, till the work should -be completed, and till the bones of Mary and Rosanna Tell (for such he -still thought them) were removed to the honourable burial-place provided -for them by his affection. While the tomb was erecting, nothing could -persuade him to quit the holy place even for a day; and the whole -neighbourhood was lost in astonishment at the homage, which the Count of -Montfort thought it necessary to pay to the relics of Tell’s daughters. - -Nothing was able to rouse him from that dangerous melancholy, to which -he abandoned himself without reserve, till the emperor’s commands -necessitated his attendance. He arrived at Grans, and found, that while -he had been giving up everything for the indulgence of unavailing -sorrow, his exalted protector had not been equally unmindful of his -favourite’s worldly interests. The old Count of Montfort had been -summoned to the imperial court; where he was made so fully aware of the -favourable posture of Henry’s affairs, and was so thoroughly convinced, -that to deny the authenticity of his claims would be fruitless, that his -nephew no sooner made his appearance, than he came towards him with open -arms, and embraced him as his relation and his presumptive heir. He was -then preparing to offer some excuse for past transactions, which in -their very nature were totally inexcuseable; but the young Count -interrupted his apologies, freely forgave him, and in presence of the -emperor assured his uncle, that he might depend upon his burying his -wrongs in silence and oblivion. - -Still, when the arrangements respecting Henry’s succession to the -Lordship of Montfort came under consideration, Count Egbert earnestly -insisted, that two or three clauses should be introduced, in order that -the future heirs of his body might not be left entirely destitute. Henry -could not conceal a smile, while he acceded to this proposal, and the -rest of the company indulged themselves without scruple in a loud burst -of laughter; for the old man was still unprovided with either wife or -children, though there was scarcely to be found in all Germany a lady of -beauty, birth, and fortune, whom he had not honoured with the offer of -his hand and heart. - -On the other hand, Henry, whose age would have suited much better with -such proposals, seemed not to bestow a thought upon the subject: amidst -the throng of lovely women who graced the court, his heart remained cold -as the marble, which covered the imagined ashes of his loved and -lamented Rosanna. But the emperor was not equally indifferent, -respecting his young friend’s contracting some honourable engagement. - -—“Montfort,” said he, “I flatter myself, that I have omitted no means of -substantiating your claims, which lay in my imperial power: but fraud -and avarice will frequently suggest such ingenious expedients for -eluding the execution of justice, that (should I die before your uncle) -you might still find it no easy task to obtain possession of your -inheritance. While therefore I am still in existence and able to serve -you, unite yourself by marriage with some powerful family, whose -connection may support your claims, when death shall have deprived you -of my favour and protection.—Your enemies then will not dare to dispute -your rights. Tell me, Henry; is the indifference, with which you seem to -look on the beauties of my court, real or affected?—If your heart has -not as yet made its choice, suffer me to mention to you the bride of -_my_ selection.”— - -Henry’s reply assured him with great truth, that there existed not a -woman, who possest any interest in his affections. - -—“Well then!” resumed the emperor, “take my advice, and offer your hand -to the beautiful Elizabeth of March, the jewel of all our German -maidens: in her you will find united youth, charms, spirit, sense, -piety, and virtue; besides a thousand other excellent qualities, which -are seldom to be met with but in men. Her family too is sufficiently -powerful to secure you against the attacks of malignity and violence, to -which you will probably be exposed after my death; an event, which -increasing infirmities make me believe to be at no great distance.”— - -Henry had frequently seen and admired the noble Elizabeth. In truth, it -was considered among the young courtiers almost as a total want of -taste, and as a proof of a cold insensible heart, to see Elizabeth and -feel nothing warmer than admiration. Henry (who could make no reasonable -objection to the match proposed, and who was unwilling to confess the -fruitless passion, which devoured his heart, for one who had long since -rested in the grave) could only assert the improbability of his -obtaining Elizabeth’s hand in preference to many suitors so much more -distinguished than himself; especially as it was reported, that her hand -was already destined to the youthful Richard of Ulmenhorst, her father’s -ward and near relation. - -—“Tell not me,” interrupted the emperor, “of those reports, and of your -own consciousness of your demerits. Go to the Castle of March; become -acquainted with Elizabeth’s virtues, as well as with her charms. I am -certain, that you will love her; I flatter myself, that _she_ too will -love _you_; and what pleasure would it give me, dear Henry, could I see -your hands united, before I close my eyes in this world for ever!”— - -An interest so warm, and expressions so condescending in the mouth of a -sovereign, could not but produce the desired effect. Montfort obeyed, -and visited the Castle of March. He beheld Elizabeth; he investigated -her character; she inspired him with esteem, with admiration ... but not -with love.—yet it was soon evident ... (will the Countess of Torrenburg -ever pardon my assertion?) that Elizabeth had not seen Henry with the -same indifference. He felt, that he was preferred; he could not but -confess, that the possession of such an angel must be an inestimable -treasure; and though the remembrance of Rosanna rendered his heart -incapable of any warmer sentiment than friendship, still since that -beloved one was lost to him for ever, he resolved not to let his folly -throw away the blessing, which offered itself to his acceptance. He -determined to fulfill the emperor’s injunctions, and to offer his hand -to the only woman, who was worthy to fill Ida’s place in his heart. But -he hesitated so long, and took so much time before he made his -declaration, that Elizabeth’s parents had already promised her in the -most solemn and positive manner to the rich and powerful Count of -Torrenburg. In consequence, Montfort was given to understand (though -with every possible mark of esteem) that his absence from the Castle of -March would be acceptable to its owner. - -Grieved and vexed at his having so long delayed to explain himself, -Henry departed; the heart of Elizabeth accompanied him. Count Egbert had -never seemed very anxious for his nephew’s marriage, nor had given -himself any trouble, in order to forward his views upon Elizabeth: the -fact was, that in spite of the ill success of his former matrimonial -speculations, he was at that moment totally engrossed by a new scheme of -the same nature; and the person, to whom his views were now directed, -was no other than ... the Lady Ida of Werdenberg. He was not only -enchanted by her personal charms, but he also took it into his -consideration, that after the Count of Torrenburg’s death she would -possess very plausible claims upon the valuable domains of Carlsheim and -Sargans; claims, which (as the possibility of his own death was an idea, -which never by any accident was suffered to enter into his calculations) -this silly old man proposed to enforce in their fullest extent. - -He had already given the Count of Torrenburg some hints of the honour, -which he had it in contemplation to confer upon his family. The Count in -return gave him to understand, that if his niece had no objection to the -match, he should not oppose it: and as the old dotard thought himself -irresistible in spite of former disappointments (which might have taught -him better) he was on the very point of surprizing Ida with the -agreeable intelligence, that she had made a conquest of his heart. It -was at this juncture, that the news reached him of his destined uncle’s -being on the brink of marriage with the Lady Elizabeth of March. - -Nothing could be more contrary to his plans, than this intelligence; -Count Frederick of Torrenburg might have children, and then there would -be an end of all his claims in right of his bride, whom he loved not -merely as the beautiful Ida of Werdenberg, but as the future co-heiress -of Carlsheim and Sargans. Now then he had nothing more at heart, than to -break off this inconvenient marriage. To accomplish this, no better -means suggested itself, than to persuade his nephew to a renewal of his -addresses to the intended bride; and since her hand was no longer to be -obtained by the ordinary methods of solicitation, he resolved to have -recourse to a little innocent artifice, which (he doubted not) would -soon bring the young people to a proper understanding. Aware, that Henry -was not likely to enforce his suit with as much eagerness as the nature -of the case required, the uncle in his zeal for his nephew’s advantage, -or rather for the success of his own interested views, resolved to -examine himself into the state of Elizabeth’s inclinations, and to place -Henry’s attachment to her in the most favourable light. He found the -unhappy girl in tears; the day was already fixed, on which her hand was -to be united with that of the dreaded Count of Torrenburg. It was no -difficult task to make her confess her disinclination to her antient -bridegroom, and her preference for the blooming Montfort, on whom her -heart had long fixed its affections irrevocably. She also listened -without any _very_ marked signs of repugnance to the proposal of an -elopement. Her heart and her reason both assured her, that to avoid the -union which she so much detested, flight was the only resource left her: -her friend Ida had advised her adopting it without delay; and now the -same proposal was made to her from a quarter the most unexpected. -Elizabeth was at length persuaded by the pressing entreaties of Count -Egbert to summon to her aid the youth, who (as she was assured by his -uncle) burned for her with the most ardent affection, and to whom her -union with his rival would undoubtedly give a mortal wound. - -She wrote to Henry, and declared herself ready to throw herself upon his -protection. This important step was taken by Elizabeth through anxiety -and affection, approved of by Ida out of friendship and ignorance of the -world, and advised by the old hypocrite Count Egbert for the sake of his -own private interest. As to Henry himself, he was perfectly ignorant of -all that was going forward, till he received Elizabeth’s letter: but -what man with the feelings of humanity alive in his bosom would have -disobeyed the voice of an angel like Elizabeth, pleading for aid, and -confessing her attachment? compassion, esteem, admiration, and -gratitude, all united to produce a sentiment in his heart which, if not -love, was at least very like it; a sentiment, which doubtless would soon -have been love itself, had not unfortunately.... Oh! lady, you for whom -I trace these lines, and for whose decision (when my task is done) I -shall wait with such anxiety, this is a chasm, which I leave to be -filled up by _you_! - -Elizabeth disappeared—the lovers were overtaken—the Count of Torrenburg, -when the circumstances were all made known to him, resigned his -pretensions with a good grace. The entreaties of Elizabeth’s brother, -and some little apprehension lest her reputation should suffer injury by -this elopement, induced her parents to withdraw their opposition to her -union with young Montfort. The marriage-day arrived: Ida flew to -congratulate her friend; and instead of the enamoured bridegroom and the -happy bride, she beheld Erwin Melthal stretched pale and senseless at -the feet of the alarmed and astonished Elizabeth. As Elizabeth saw -Henry’s colour change, she sprang towards him, and clasped his hand. -Hastily he drew it back with a look of horror, sank on the ground, and -closed his eyes as if to eternal slumber. - -She now turned to Ida, who (supported by her sister) appeared more dead -than living: she demanded the meaning of this extraordinary scene. -Terror and astonishment sealed up the lips of Ida; and Constantia also -was silent through doubt, whether an explanation just then would be -adviseable. - -—“A strange instance of love at first sight!” whispered to her next -neighbour, a virgin aunt of Elizabeth’s aged forty-seven. - -—“And mutual too, as it seems!” replied the plump dowager, to whom this -audible whisper had been addrest. - -Ha! at those words how high swelled the proud bosom of Elizabeth! How -fiery was the glance like lightning, which she threw upon Ida, as she -turned away! How contemptuous was the look, with which she eyed young -Montfort, in whom the care of his servants had just produced some faint -signs of returning animation. Her impetuous spirit had always rendered -her too susceptible of sudden and violent passion, and (to confess the -truth) had already betrayed her into the commission of many a hasty and -ill-judged action. Without waiting for further explanation she rushed -out of the chapel, while her eyes flashed fire as she went. She was -followed by all those, who envied the sisters; and who were now resolved -to devote a day, long destined to happiness, to the nourishment of -suspicion and resentment; and who were prepared to use their utmost arts -to render the wounds lately given to love and friendship incurable. - -I will not attempt to describe the state of Ida’s mind. Constantia (who, -though not more able to unravel the mystery of these unexpected -occurrences, was yet more collected than her sister) judged it prudent -for them to withdraw as soon as possible from the curious gaze of the -by-standers. Accordingly, she conducted the bewildered Ida to her -apartment, and then hastened to that of the bride, in order that, she -might at once offer explanations and receive them in return. She had not -yet sufficiently recovered from her first astonishment to conceive, how -strong an impression to her sister’s prejudice the scene, which had just -taken place, must have made upon Elizabeth: much less did she suppose it -possible, that her friend could act so unjustly as to show resentment -against herself for an action, which (even if wrong) had at any rate -been committed by another. - -Her surprise therefore was great, when she was refused admittance to -Elizabeth, with every mark of harshness and indignation.—She returned -sorrowing from her fruitless embassy; and she had scarcely regained her -own apartment, before a Chamberlain made his appearance there to inform -the sisters in the name of the Lord of the Castle, that in consequence -of Elizabeth’s sudden indisposition, and of the late confusion (the -cause of which was too well known to them to make any explanation on -that head necessary) it would be adviseable for them immediately to quit -a house, in which certainly no bridal ceremony would be celebrated at -present. - -In the mean while, Henry on opening his eyes cast his first glances -eagerly towards the spot, where he fancied, that the spirits of Tell’s -grand-daughters had appeared to him; they were no longer to be seen. He -was now confirmed in his visionary notions, and implicitly believed, -that he had really seen an apparition.—He inquired for Elizabeth: the -answer was, that she had quitted the chapel evidently in displeasure; -very little reflection was necessary to make him aware, that the -singular part which he had just been playing, made it necessary for him -to hasten to his bride without delay, and explain the cause of his -mysterious behaviour. While approaching her chamber, he considered with -himself, whether it would, or would not, be adviseable to inform her of -the vision, which had just appeared to him, and to lay open to her the -secret history of his early life! His deliberations, however, were quite -superfluous; for he was denied admittance to Elizabeth with no less -positiveness and contempt, than had been shown on Constantia’s -application. - -He felt, that Elizabeth had some reason to think herself insulted; and -instead of repaying her scorn with scorn, he lost no time in justifying -himself in the eyes of his offended mistress.—A personal interview was -denied him; the explanation therefore could only be conveyed in writing; -but Henry was not sufficiently an adept in penmanship to permit his -finishing so long an apology with as much expedition, as the nature of -the case made desirable. He resolved therefore to employ a secretary; -and as upon inquiry no ready writer was to be found in the whole Castle -except the family Chaplain (whom I have already mentioned as the secret -ally of Father Hilarius, and as being entirely in the Count of -Torrenburg’s interests) he requested his assistance. He might have -chosen from among a thousand, and yet could not have confided his -affairs to a more improper instrument. However, Henry dictated, and the -Friar wrote as follows. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - _Henry to Elizabeth._ - -You are offended, my beloved!—Nay, even to myself it scarcely appears -credible, that when I stood with you before the altar, I should have -withdrawn my hand from yours; that I should have hesitated to pronounce -the words, which would have made you mine for ever; that when you looked -upon me with eyes of love, I could have looked on any other than on -_you_.—No; this never could have happened by natural means; the enemies -of our love must have employed infernal arts to delude my senses and -interrupt my happiness!—What past this evening in the Chapel must -certainly have been produced by magic; no otherwise can I account for -it! - -Elizabeth, my heart was once another’s: my heart would _still_ have been -another’s, had not death torn her from me. But my Rosanna has long been -an angel in Heaven; the truth which I swore to her, and which (while she -had life) I never would have violated, could not surely extend beyond -the precincts of the grave. Surely that happy-one, to whom now all -things must be known, must also know, in what degree I once loved _her_, -and in what degree I now love Elizabeth: Surely, she cannot envy you, my -beloved, the hand of your poor Henry; surely, she would not forsake her -own mansions of peace and bliss, to forbid our union and destroy our -hopes of happiness? - -And yet, Elizabeth...! Mark, my beloved, and conceive my astonishment, -my horror!—And yet, Elizabeth, I swear to you most solemnly, that this -evening as you stood at the altar, I saw the form of the long-deceased -Rosanna Tell approach, and place the myrtle wreath upon your forehead; -while by her side stood a second apparition in a religious habit, the -exact resemblance of Mary, Rosanna’s sister, who is buried with her in -the same tomb! - -But strange as this circumstance appears, let it not disturb your -tranquillity, my Elizabeth, nor prevent an union, on which I depend for -all the happiness of my future life. If the spirit of Rosanna _really_ -appeared, she came not to destroy the bliss of the man who adored her, -but to give her celestial sanction: but for my own part, I am persuaded, -that this appearance was some illusion, some contrivance of those who -envy us, some magical appearance produced by monastic arts in the night -and secrecy of the Cloister.— - -Beloved Elizabeth, admit me to your presence, and every point shall be -explained most fully. At present I must break off, for the person (whose -pen I employ to trace these lines) has taken offence at an expression -which accidentally escaped me, and refuses any longer to render me his -services. - - * * * * * - -In truth, Henry’s ecclesiastical secretary was greatly displeased at the -words “monastic arts:” however, an apology and some pieces of gold not -only brought the avaricious Monk into good-humour again, but even -induced him to offer to be the bearer of his letter, in case the young -Lord of Montfort should still think proper to send it, after hearing -what he (the Monk) had to say upon the subject. - -Henry gave him permission to speak, and promised to be attentive. - -—“You believe then,” began Father Jacob, “that the form, whose -appearance so greatly surprized you in the Chapel belonged to a deceased -person?—Count of Montfort, it was the living Rosanna, Tell whom you -beheld; Rosanna who has now exchanged that name for the more lofty one -of Ida of Werdenberg—You start?—You believe what I tell you to be -impossible?—Nay, Count, with all my heart! Number _me_ (if you like it) -among those, who wish to impede you in the gratification of your new -amours: it would be ill-breeding in me to force upon you the conviction -of a truth, to which you are evidently so unwilling to give credit!”— - -The crafty Friar rose, as if about to quit the apartment. It is -superfluous to say, that Henry (whose head was now assailed by -astonishment from a new quarter) did not suffer him to depart.—Father -Jacob possest the whole of Ida’s history, except in so far as related to -her adventure with Erwin Melthal: he refused to communicate any portion -of his knowledge, till this hitherto unsuspected circumstance had been -fully explained to him. This demand was complied with, every -circumstance was confided to him; and with astonishing quickness he -discerned in this narrative the means of attaining an object, which he -and his honest ally, the keeper of Count Frederick’s conscience, had -very nearly at heart, but which they had found themselves compelled to -abandon in despair. - -Montfort had finished.—And now the Monk exerted all his eloquence to -convince his auditor of that, which Henry’s heart was already most -anxious to believe; namely, that his first oaths of love ought to be the -most binding; that it was no less necessary to keep his faith to Ida of -Werdenberg than to Rosanna Tell; and that his giving that hand to -Elizabeth, which he had sworn to give to another, would only serve to -form an union unjust, sinful, abominable, and accursed. - -Henry was quite of the Monk’s opinion, long before his oration came to -an end. Of much more consequence did it now appear to him to renew his -vows to the long-lost late-found Ida, than to appease the indignation of -the offended Elizabeth. Joy and anxiety almost bereft him of -understanding. The Monk was commissioned to procure for him an immediate -interview with Ida; and when Father Jacob returned to him with the -information, that an hour had already elapsed, since the Damsels of -Werdenberg departed from the Castle, he forgot (in his impatience to -rejoin his mistress) so completely all ideas of propriety, of -consideration for the feelings of his bride, and of the misconstructions -to which he was making his conduct liable, that without farther -deliberation he sprang upon his courser, and pursued the way, which the -Monk pointed out to him as that, by which he might the most speedily -overtake the sisters. In the hurry of his enthusiastic affection, he -forgot every thing else; he left no apology for the Count of March; no -explanation for Elizabeth; he even neglected to remind the Monk to -deliver his letter, or to desire him to clear up the mystery of his -conduct. - -In fact, Father Jacob had other business upon his hands, than to -extenuate Montfort’s offence in the eyes of Elizabeth. Immediately on -the youth’s departure, he lost no time in transmitting the following -letter to the family-priest of Torrenburg. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - _Father Jacob to Father Hilarius._ - -Before this letter can reach you, doubtless the occurrences of this -evening will be already known to you: but learn from me some -circumstances, which are as yet a secret to all but myself and the -principal actors in them.—Erwin Melthal, that peasant youth on whose -perfections and on whose attachment you have heard Ida dwell with such -enthusiasm, proves to be no other than Henry of Montfort.—Elizabeth is -still ignorant of this previous acquaintance, and must remain so: with -the sisters she is likely to have no immediate intercourse, and by my -management Henry has left the Castle of March in pursuit of Ida; though -to gain time, I thought it prudent to give him a false direction, and he -is now upon the road to the half-ruined Fortress, which the Count of -Torrenburg possesses in Thuringia. - -Let your patron lose no time in hastening hither—I will take care, that -he shall find the family disposed to consider his renewed proposals as a -most honourable and fortunate event; and I doubt not, in the first -tumult of her passions, of disappointed love, violated friendship, and -raging jealousy, Elizabeth may be easily persuaded to an union, which -will make her mistress of that rival’s fate, to whose pernicious beauty -she ascribes the loss of her own promised happiness. - -Be assured, it will be greatly both for your advantage and for mine, -that Elizabeth should become Count Frederick’s wife. He is advanced in -years; it is highly improbable, that he should have children; and a rich -bequest is already secured to our convent in the event of his dying -without legitimate descendants. On the other hand, should he remain -unmarried, there is every probability of his acknowledging the Damsels -of Werdenberg as his heiresses; a step, which would ruin all our hopes -for ever, but which (you may depend upon it) he will never be suffered -to take, if the jealous and incensed Elizabeth becomes Countess of -Torrenburg. - -With regard to these hated girls, whose intrusion is so greatly adverse -to our interests, no means must be neglected for expelling them from -their guardian’s house and favour. As to Constantia, I look upon her as -little dangerous, being (to judge by every appearance) entirely devoted -to a religious life: it would therefore be unnecessary to molest her, -were not her fate so closely connected with her sister’s, that it is -impossible to separate the one from the other. But it is against Ida -that all your skill must be directed.—Doubtless, Elizabeth’s letters are -still in her possession—Seize them, either by art or violence, it -matters not which: they must necessarily contain matter sufficient to -convince Count Frederick, that it was by her advice, that her friend was -persuaded to elope from him with young Montfort: he will look upon her -as the traverser of his views upon Elizabeth, and that will be -sufficient to banish her from his favour—this will be greatly confirmed -by the appearance of the sisters at Elizabeth’s wedding, which he cannot -but consider as highly disrespectful to himself and his feelings; but -you must carefully conceal from him, that Ida confined in the solitude -of Torrenburg Castle, and Constantia buried in the silence of her -Convent, were both ignorant of the rejected lover’s name till after -their arrival at the Castle of March. The Count is noble-minded; but he -is proud, irascible, easily induced to believe the worst of those who -surround him, and obstinate in retaining prejudices once received—these -are the parts of his character, upon which it must be your care to work, -till you have kindled a flame against Ida in his bosom, which all her -tears will be unable to extinguish. On the other hand, you must assail -Ida with terrors of her uncle’s indignation, and with threats of an -immediate union with her superannuated admirer, Count Egbert: and when -you have terrified her sufficiently to prevent her conduct from being -regulated by her understanding, assure her, that there is no way of -avoiding Count Frederick’s wrath and old Montfort’s marriage-bed, except -flight from the Castle of Torrenburg.—That step once taken, Ida is -ruined; Constantia may easily be convicted of participation in her -sister’s actions; the ungrateful girls will be banished from their -uncle’s favour irrevocably, and then the game will be all our -own.—Farewell, and let me hear from you with all diligence. - - * * * * * - -The unconscious subject of these abominable artifices was in the mean -while journeying homewards with a heavy heart, doubly afflicted by the -injustice of her friend, and the supposed perfidy of her lover. She had -ascertained no more before her departure from the Castle of March, than -that the man, whom she had so long believed to be a peasant’s son, was -Count Henry of Montfort; but it still remained unexplained, how Henry -could have so totally forgotten his former vows, and have offered his -hand to another. The more that she reflected, the less reason did there -appear to doubt, that upon discovering his own noble origin he had -abandoned all thoughts of an union with the low-born daughter of William -Tell. In the opinion of love this fault was not to be excused; she in -some degree obtained a forced tranquillity by resolving, that his -conduct had rendered him totally unworthy of her; and that even should -the inconstant Henry return to her chains, it would be beneath Ida of -Werdenberg to accept that hand, which he had insolently withdrawn from -the humble Rosanna Tell. - -Constantia accompanied her sister for some part of her journey, but was -at length unwillingly compelled to separate from her and return to her -convent, attended by the vassals whom the Abbess of Zurich had sent for -her protection. Ida reached her guardian’s Castle without meeting any -adventure; but a mistake of her attendants occasioned her to go -considerably out of her road, and this delay gave time for Father -Jacob’s letter to precede her at the Castle of Torrenburg. Father -Hilarius lost no time in searching for Elizabeth’s letters; he found -them, and found them also such, as he wished. Some, which would have -exculpated Ida, and made against Elizabeth, he committed to the flames, -and then lost no time in communicating the rest to his patron. - -Count Frederick had returned home on Elizabeth’s bridal day, which he -intended to pass with his niece in silent melancholy. He had resolved to -inquire into her character with more attention, than he had done -hitherto; and as his late disappointment had made him give up all -thoughts of marriage for himself, it was his intention to declare that -the damsels of Werdenberg were his future heiresses, in case they should -prove to deserve so great a distinction. - -On his arrival he inquired for Ida; he was informed, that she was gone -to the wedding of the young Countess of March.—He started in -astonishment, and father Hilarius shook his head with a smile. Frederick -enquired, how the girl could have ventured to take a step, which he -could not but look upon as a marked token of disrespect? or if she were -ignorant of his having payed his addresses to Elizabeth, why had not -father Hilarius prevented her from unconsciously offering him this -public affront? the worthy Chaplain shrugged his shoulders, and answered -that—“Good-lack! he was too old and too simple to look after a young -wanton girl with the devil (heaven bless us!) in her head.”— - -—“She slipped away,” continued he, “without saying a word of her -intention to me, or to any one—and as to her _ignorance_ of your -adresses.... Blessed St. Barnabas! she knew much more about them, than I -did myself!—Why, my lord, I have just discovered, that she has long kept -up a secret correspondence with the Lady Elizabeth; and I can bring you -the most undeniable proofs, that you would at this moment have been -happy in the possession of your bride, had it not been for Ida, for the -self created heiress of Torrenburg; who instigated her innocent friend -to refuse your hand; who fooled her into an imaginary passion for young -Montfort; and when she had entangled the poor Elizabeth too closely in -this intrigue to admit of her retreating with honour, who finally -persuaded her to adopt the disgraceful measure of an elopement.—Yet to -say truth, there is some excuse for Ida’s conduct, since she could not -but heartily wish to prevent a marriage so extremely detrimental to her -own views and interests.”— - -Frederick heard every word with increasing amazement. In a voice of fury -he demanded, that the proofs, of which the Monk had spoken, should be -instantly produced.—Father Hilarius then gave Elizabeth’s letters into -his hand, accompanying them with some reflections on the danger of -teaching women the art of writing; at the same time reminding the Count, -how strenuously and how frequently he had represented to him, that in -the hands of so forward a girl as Ida, there could not possibly be a -more dangerous instrument than a pen; and that to leave her to the full -as ignorant as he found her, was an object most desirable both for the -Count and for herself.—But his remonstrances had been disregarded; Ida -was taught to write; and now see the blessed effects of it! - -Elizabeth’s hand was not to be mistaken; and while the Count gazed upon -the writing so well known to him, the malicious Priest inflamed his -resentment still further by relating various passages of Ida’s early -life, to which he well knew how to give that colouring, which suited -best with his designs; he related, how during the time that she was -believed to be Tell’s grand-daughter, Ida had greatly shocked her -companions by her free and dissolute manners; he proceeded to state, -that in consequence her guardians had been obliged to separate her from -Constantia, lest the one should be perverted by the bad example of the -other; that regret at finding all his efforts to reclaim her in vain, -had broken the heart of her adopted father, and sent him with sorrow to -his grave: that she had carried on an intrigue with a man of low birth, -to whom she was still attached; and that in all probability it was her -intention to enrich this peasant with the valuable inheritance, which -she expected to derive from Count Frederick’s bounty. - -—“And then” continued Father Hilarius, casting a malicious side-glance -upon Ida’s claims; “and then how easy will it be for the young fellow to -vamp up some fine story of an unexpected discovery, and of a -relationship to some illustrious family long concealed, and thus qualify -himself for assuming openly the proud name of _Count of Torrenburg_, in -right of his wife, her generous uncle’s heiress!”— - -The Count bit his lip: yet after a long silence he answered, that Ida’s -parentage and claims admitted of no doubt; and that he wished most -heartily, that she were any other person, in order that in pronouncing -his judgement upon her conduct, she might have been entitled to less -consideration and respect. - -—“But in spite of all her faults,” said he, “I cannot deal harshly with -a person, who is the daughter of my deceased friend, and of the woman -whom I once adored. Yet on the other hand, such mean artifices, such -acts of interested baseness, of such flagrant ingratitude, ought not to -escape without due punishment.—Ida has destroyed the happiness, which I -promised myself in marriage; it will be no more than a just vengeance, -if I destroy hers in return.—Should she fail to exculpate herself, she -shall either be immured for life within the walls of a Cloister, or give -her hand without delay to the old Count of Montfort, from whom I this -morning received proposals for her hand.”— - -When he pronounced this sentence, the Count was standing in an open -balcony: as the last words fell from his lips, he saw Ida with her -attendants riding slowly towards the Castle. He hastily drew back; and -feeling, that he was at that time too much incensed to give her cause an -impartial hearing, he ordered Father Hilarius to fill his place—the -Friar exulted at this command: he knew well the generosity of his -patron’s nature, and dreaded that irresistible conviction, which ever -accompanies the pleading of injured innocence: he therefore heard with -Great satisfaction, that the cause was not to be tried by a judge, the -goodness of whose own heart would naturally incline him to the side of -mercy, justice, and compassion. - -Ida had scarcely divested herself of her bridal robes, when a procession -entered her chamber composed of the chief officers of the Count’s -household, and headed by the reverend Father Hilarius. The formal manner -of their entrance, and the gravity which reigned in every countenance, -were alone sufficient to communicate to her mind some degree of -confusion and alarm.—How greatly were these emotions increased, when the -Chaplain began his examination, which was preceded by a terrible -description of her guardian’s anger, and which consisted of questions so -artfully worded, that taken by surprize and bewildered as she was, she -found herself constrained either to return no answers at all, or such as -were apparently to her disadvantage.—Sensible of this at length, she -entreated, that time might be allowed her for recollection: the greatest -part of her auditors were well inclined to the poor suppliant, and felt -for her the most sincere compassion. The Monk therefore did not dare to -act towards her with all the harshness, to which his heart prompted him; -the further examination of this affair was postponed to three hours -after sunrise of the next day, and Ida was left alone. - -It was midnight.—Ida sat weeping, while a variety of unpleasant images -crowded before her imagination, and retraced the many singular and -painful transactions, of which that day had been a witness. -Interesting as had been the events which took place at the Castle of -March, still her mind was most occupied by those more recent ones, -which surprized her at her return home.—“Her guardian Elizabeth’s -rejected bridegroom.”—“Herself accused of having broken off his -marriage.”—“_Some_ offences laid to her charge, which were totally -incomprehensible.”—“_Others_, of which she was conscious, that her -unguarded conduct had made her but too liable to be suspected.”—“The -Count’s violent resentment.”—“His threats.”—“Expulsion from the Castle -of Torrenburg.”—“The only choice, allowed her, the cloister for life, -or an union with the decrepit Count Egbert.”—Poor, poor Ida! how wilt -thou find a clue to guide thy bewildered steps aright through such a -labyrinth of dangers! - -Buried in these melancholy reflections, she heard not the door unlocked, -by which her apartments communicated with the public gallery.—At length -a hand gently removed the handkerchief, with which she had covered her -face. She looked up, and beheld Father Hilarius. - -—“Alas! my dear child,” said the Friar, “what avails your -weeping?—believe me, your affairs are not in so ill a state, as you may -imagine; though I cannot but confess, that appearances are greatly -against you. Your secret correspondence with Elizabeth has been -intercepted: I have tried in vain to convince your guardian, that you -were ignorant of his having any concern in the affair. Then he looks on -your presence at the marriage, as a personal and designed affront. It -appears indeed from one of her letters, that your friend herself was in -great doubt, whether you would accept her invitation. At the very time -of her giving it, she pointed out the inconveniences of your coming; she -warned you, that you would incur your uncle’s anger.... And yet in -defiance of this warning, you went!—As to the confusion, which your -presence produced at the wedding, of that we can make out nothing; you -either _will_ not, or _can_ not explain the mystery; one thing only I -can collect from your account, which is, that you have made a number of -enemies there, who will spare no pains to injure you, and to prevent -your innocence from being made clear to the Count.—For that you _are_ -innocent, I have no manner of doubt; and I will venture to assert, that -in process of time.... But time indeed, Heaven help us! that is exactly -what is refused you—the punishment of your supposed offences will be -immediate! the old Count of Montfort arrived here not an hour ago; and -your guardian is determined, that to-morrow shall decide the destiny of -your future life. Of your guilt he is thoroughly persuaded, and you will -be compelled to-morrow to give your hand to Count Egbert, if he will -condescend to accept it; or if the old man thinks that your conduct has -now made you unworthy of such an honour, you will be immediately -confined for life in the Convent of the Grey Penitents near Count -Frederick’s Thuringian Castle.”— - -—“And what then must be done?” cried Ida, wringing her hands in fear and -agony.—“How can I escape so dreadful a destiny?”— - -—“Escape?” repeated the Monk.—“Ha! right! right! my dear child, it was -surely Heaven, that inspired you with the thought!—Yes! you must escape; -you must fly from the Castle of Torrenburg!”— - -—“Escape? fly?”—repeated the bewildered Ida; “and whither must I go?”— - -“To a retreat,” replied the Monk, “where you may wait in security, till -your uncle’s resentment is appeased, and your innocence can be made -clear to him.—But you shall know more, as we go along. I know a secret -passage, by which you may quit the Castle unobserved. Follow me, for you -have not a moment to lose!—Nay, come, come! away!”— - -Thus saying, he caught the lamp from the table with one hand, and -grasping Ida’s arm with the other, he drew her from the -chamber.—Bewildered, terrified, she had not presence of mind sufficient -to form a resolution; and her exhausted frame was unable to resist the -force, with which he urged her forwards, as she followed him through the -long galleries, rather passively submitting, than wilfully consenting to -his design. - -I formerly mentioned, that Count Frederick still resided on the spot, -which had once been the habitation of the antient Counts of Carlsheim -and Sargans. To this he had chiefly been induced by the beauty of the -situation: perhaps too his pride was secretly gratified by the -recollection, that his residence was the same with that, whence his -ancestors were accustomed to extend the sceptre of command over the -surrounding provinces, and to set at defiance the resentment of many a -sovereign prince, who possest much more lofty-sounding titles but much -less real power and strength.—Still the gloomy, half-ruined Castle of -Sargans was by no means a mansion suited to the taste of its modern -possessor. Accordingly he had levelled to the ground the remains of a -wing of this gigantic pile, which had formerly been destroyed by fire, -and had erected in its place a stately palace, at once noble in its -external form, and convenient in its interior accommodations. This was -called the Castle of Torrenburg; while the forsaken halls and towers of -Sargans were still distinguished by the name of the “Donat-Fortress,” -the two buildings were separated by courts of considerable extent; the -antient one was in a great measure suffered to go to ruin, except a few -apartments which were kept up for the accommodation of domestics, when -on solemn occasions the number of guests was too great to be received -within the walls of the Count’s own residence. - -Superstition had not failed to extend her dominion over the -Donat-Fortress.—Traditions respecting the former Counts of Carlsheim and -Sargans, which had been handed down from father to son, and with which -you, Elizabeth, are already well acquainted, furnished subjects -sufficient for a thousand wonderful stories. In truth, the prejudice, in -favour of the opinion that the ruins were haunted, was so prevalent, -that not merely among the Count’s domestics, but even among the -inhabitants of the neighbouring villages numbers of ghost-seers were to -be found, who had beheld at sundry times (and with their own eyes) the -spirits of Ethelbert and Urania, of Donat, Helen, and other traditionary -personages, wandering among those abandoned halls and moss-grown towers; -and they augured either favourable or inauspicious events to the -reigning possessor, according as the vision represented a lady or a -Monk, an innocent wife or her haughty tyrant husband. - -Ida’s character is naturally extremely timid, and she had not escaped -the contagion of superstitious terrors. It was therefore with no slight -emotion, that she found her conductor taking the way, which led to the -ruins. - -—“Whither are you leading me?” said she frequently, as she followed him -with trembling steps.—“Whither are you leading me?” she again demanded -almost with a shriek; and as she snatched her hand from the Friar’s, her -blood froze in her veins at perceiving, that she had now past the last -of the separating courts, and stood before the massy walls and lofty -round towers of the Donat-Fortress, whose colossal portal seemed to -stretch wide its enormous jaws, as if for the purpose of devouring her. - -Father Hilarius was now compelled to stop for a moment, and support his -fainting companion. She reclined her head against his shoulder; and when -she had in some degree recovered her spirits, she related to him, that -happening once to be standing in her balcony at midnight, she had seen -with her own eyes the apparitions of two Monks come out of the very -gate, before which they were at that moment standing; that they went up -to the old well in the corner, whose mouth is overgrown with moss and -weeds, and there they seemed to vanish; and that upon relating what she -had seen the next morning, the old portress had related to her a -terrible history of two Monks belonging to the Abbey of Curwald, who -were starved to death in a subterraneous dungeon by the order of one of -the tyrant-counts of Carlsheim; that their bones were buried in that -ruined well, in which Heaven’s retribution had ordained, that the -murderer himself should perish; and that ever since that time, the place -had been haunted by the ghosts of the two unfortunate Friars. - -Father Hilarius, who frequently made use of the deserted fortress, when -he had any secret business to transact, could have easily removed the -miraculous part of the appearances, which Ida had seen; but it did not -suit his plans to quiet her anxiety by letting her into the truth. He -contented himself with painting in the strongest colours the dangers, -which awaited her on her return to the Count’s abode; and with reminding -her, that her only chance of avoiding those dangers was an instantaneous -flight by means, whose terrors were merely imaginary. - -The priest, in spite of all his seeming simplicity, was by no means -deficient in eloquence. His descriptions were so lively, and his -arguments came so home to her feelings, that Ida was soon convinced, -that she could meet with no ghost more terrible or more hideous than the -old Count of Montfort. She therefore resolved to follow her guide -without further remonstrance, and only requested that she might shut her -eyes, and clasp one of his hands with both of hers in the form of a -cross, which holy sign (she doubted not) would scare all evil spirits -away. To this he consented, and promised to inform her when she should -be arrived in a place of safety, and might relieve herself from this -voluntary loss of sight. - -As they proceeded, the Monk lighted several torches of yellow wax, which -were fastened at intervals against the sides of a long passage, opening -into a large hall; he took the same precaution, as he ascended a lofty -marble staircase; and as soon as he entered a spacious saloon, he lost -no time in illuminating twelve large chandeliers of brass, which were -suspended from the roof.—He now desired Ida to open her eyes, and look -round her. - -He could not have pitched upon a better method for dissipating Ida’s -fears of ghosts and goblins. Darkness is the mother of causeless terror; -with the return of light, courage and confidence return to the trembling -heart. The lamp, with which the Friar was still busied in lighting the -last chandelier, assured her, that there was nothing supernatural in the -light, by which she found herself surrounded; and her heart expanded -with the agreeable impression, produced upon her by this sudden and -unexpected splendour. - -She had always pictured to herself the Donat-Fortress, as the residence -of crows, bats, and screech-owls, a gloomy chaos of dirt, and dust, and -fragments of moth-eaten furniture. How greatly then was she surprized to -find, that though everything in truth was faded and antiquated, yet -nothing could be more magnificent than the saloon, which she was then -examining. It was hung with tapestry richly wrought and adorned with -pictures, on whose frames gold and carving had been lavished most -profusely: and through the open door she looked out upon the illuminated -marble staircase, and down the long gallery, whose vista of lights -presented an object at once noble and agreeable. Father Hilarius advised -her to repose herself for a few minutes, and conducted her to an -elevated seat under a canopy, which seemed like a throne. - -—“It was here,” said he “that the antient lords of the ten jurisdictions -were accustomed to receive the homage of their vassals, while that -anti-chamber was thronged with their knights and retainers; and it was -from yonder side-chambers, that crouds of the noblest dames and damsels -of the country looked out, and admired the magnificence of the powerful -Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans.”— - -Ida would not cast a single glance towards the side-chambers, where the -dames and damsels of former days used to assemble, for in these there -were no torches; and she could not help fearing, lest she should -discover in them some inhabitant of the other world made visible by the -light of his own burning brimstone. She therefore continued to look -towards the illuminated gallery, and listened with pleased attention to -Father Hilarius, while he dwelt upon the brighter parts of the family -traditions, and by descriptions of splendid feasts and stately -tournaments, contrived to beguile the trembling girl of her terrors. - -—“But we forget ourselves,” said the Monk at length, suddenly breaking -off his narration, “we must not suffer day-light to surprise us in these -untenanted apartments, where we should undoubtedly be sought after, and -then if found what would be the consequence? you would be consigned to -the arms of the decrepit Egbert, while I should be sent back to my -Convent with indignation by your uncle. Come, lady, come! follow me, -where peace and security await your arrival.”— - -—“Lead on, good father!” replied Ida; “be you but my guide, and I will -not hesitate to follow.”— - -—“Good!” said Hilarius; and then extinguishing some of the lights, he -took them from the chandeliers.—“Then take special care of these tapers; -they will be necessary for us on the way, by which we must escape. Now -then hasten onwards, and be alarmed at nothing, which you may encounter. -Be assured, there is no real danger.”— - -Thus saying, he gave her a small basket, which already appeared to -contain some provisions, and in which he now deposited the tapers. These -preparations for a long journey through gloomy ways were by no means -calculated to preserve in Ida’s mind that temporary tranquillity, which -it had so lately recovered. An involuntary shuddering seized her; and as -he lighted her forwards, he assured her so often of his acting honestly -by her, that she began to suspect, that it must be his intention to -deceive her. - -They at length reached the most remote quarter of the Donat-Fortress, -which by no means corresponded with the magnificence of those -apartments, by which she had approached it. Here nothing was to be seen -but winding staircases, narrow passages, low roofs, and gloomy vaulted -dungeons, without end or number, whose labyrinth bewildered her memory, -and whose aspect appalled her imagination. Most of them bore the -strongest marks of the ravages of time: and now they entered an immense -chamber, which according to the Monk’s account had at one period been -the bedroom of the Countess Urania, and of many of the ladies, her -successors.—A large vacant alcove still decorated with the remnants of -silken curtains, appeared to have once been intended to contain a bed, -and confirmed the assertion of Father Hilarius; an assertion, which the -other ornaments of the room seemed calculated to contradict. Swords, -spears, and coats of mail were fastened against the walls, and gave the -apartment more the appearance of a well-furnished armoury, than of a -lady’s bed chamber. Ida was on the point of asking the meaning of such -unusual decorations, when her conductor removed a part of the worm-eaten -tapestry, and opened a concealed door, through which she descried a -staircase descending to a far greater depth, than her eye could reach. - -—“Here is our way,” said Hilarius, “tremble not, my child, but follow me -without hesitation.—A few hours will place you in safety.”— - -Ida shrunk back, and weeping through extreme terror, inquired, whether -this was the only means of escaping?—The Friar, who had already found -out the quickest method of removing her apprehensions, descended part of -the staircase, and as he past, kindled some tapers fixed on the -balustrade. This experiment succeeded, as it had done before—Ida -ventured down a few steps, and the Monk returned to assist her to -descend the remainder; when suddenly springing past her, he rushed up -the staircase, and passing through the door, closed it after him with a -loud noise. - -How the blood ran cold in the poor girl’s veins, when she found herself -forsaken by her guide; how she hastened after him, in hopes of inducing -him by entreaties to release her from this unexpected captivity; how she -shuddered at being able to discover no traces of the concealed door; and -how she at length sank down upon the steps in agony and despair, when -she found no answer returned to her shrieks for relief and mercy, all -this I need not describe to Elizabeth: her own good and tender heart -will make her feel for the situation of a young creature, by nature the -most fearful of her sex, exposed to all the horrors of night, solitude, -and silence, at the entrance of a chain of gloomy caverns, whose -existence till that moment had been unknown to her, and with whose -outlet she was totally unacquainted. - -Though she received no answer, she was certain, that her entreaties for -help were not unheard by the unpitying Friar. She could plainly -distinguish his footsteps, as he hastened away from the chamber; and the -noise of closing doors and of bolts shooting back into their fastenings -left her no room to doubt her being totally abandoned. - -Ida was herself unconscious, how much time elapsed, before she could -summon strength of mind sufficient to reflect, how it would be most -adviseable for her to conduct herself in this perilous situation. -Undoubtedly, before she could recover from the shock, a considerable -period must have elapsed; for when she at length looked around her, she -perceived, that the torches were on the point of expiring. The dread of -being left in total darkness recalled her to herself: she sprang from -the ground, and lost no time in kindling one of the tapers, with which -the Monk (who was far from wishing her destruction) had providently -supplied her basket. - -—“He does not then desire my death?” said she, as she saw the flame rise -bright and cheerful, and a kind of doubtful joy infused itself into her -almost frozen heart. - -This persuasion was confirmed, when faintness compelled her to examine -the contents of her basket. Father Hilarius (who was no enemy to the -pleasures of the table) had furnished it, as if he had been catering for -himself: the provisions were the most delicate of their kind, and a -small flask of costly and cordial wine had not been forgotten. Now then -she began to think, what could have been his object in conducting her to -this gloomy abode? It was evident, that he had not left her there to -perish through hunger: was it possible, that he had meant honestly by -her, and that this was really the best path, which she could take to -quit the Castle? Suddenly, it struck her, that during their midnight -wandering the Monk had frequently mentioned a subterraneous passage, -which conducted to a small hamlet inhabited in former times by holy -Hermits, and now the abode of simple villagers scarcely less pure in -manners than their predecessors. He had described this passage to her -with such minuteness, that she could not but suppose his account to have -contained instructions for the direction of her progress; she had at the -time paid but little attention to his remarks, not conceiving that she -was at all interested in the subject; but she now carefully mustered up -every hint which he had let fall, and employed her whole strength of -mind in recalling the instructions, which he had given with such -apparent indifference. - -Having at length traced the map of her road on her imagination -sufficiently to make her hope, that she should be able to find her way -through the gloomy labyrinth, she ventured to begin her journey. She -carefully avoided various low-vaulted, passages, which presented -themselves on either side of her, and which Father Hilarius had already -warned her not to enter; as he said, that they only led to small -dungeons, in which many victims of the tyrant Counts of Carlsheim and -Sargans had breathed their last, and which now formed the unwholesome -abode of toads, snakes, and other loathsome reptiles. Apprehensive that -her light might fail her, before she could reach the outlet of these -caverns, she fled onwards with all her speed, and hoped with every -moment, that the next would show her the magnificent tomb, raised by -Count Herman of Werdenberg in honour of his wife the lady Emmeline, who -had been long imprisoned in this subterraneous abode. The sight of this -monument would assure her, that she had not mistaken the way; and the -Monk had told her, that she would there find three paths branching out, -of which the middle one would conduct her without a turning to the -cavern’s mouth. - -But still she hastened on, and still one taper after the other was -consumed, and still the tomb was not to be descried! Sleep, and fatigue -from the length of the way, began to operate upon her with force almost -irresistible; yet did she not dare to close her eyes, lest during her -slumber the taper should burn out, and leave her in absolute darkness to -wander through the long chain of dungeons and passages, till she -perished. In this painful situation her only advantage was, that her -imaginary fears gradually subsided. Custom and necessity are frequently -the parents of virtue; and Ida, the timid superstitious Ida, who so -lately could only traverse the chambers of the Donat-Fortress with eyes -closed, hands crost, and knees trembling, was now able to tread firmly, -as she hurried along, and feared not to gaze steadfastly on the -surrounding gloom, with which she was now become familiar. - -The poor wanderer could only judge from the consumption of her tapers, -that she must have journeyed for a considerable time, and that the mouth -of the caverns could be at no great distance—this belief was confirmed, -when she perceived a faint pale light glimmering through the obscurity -of a narrow passage, which lay before her. The sight inspired her with -renewed vigour. She hastened towards the gleam: but how did her spirits -fail her, when after proceeding for some minutes down the passage she -found, that the light proceeded (not from the day, as she had fondly -hoped) but from a lamp, which served to illuminate with its blue rays a -place, the sight of which a few days sooner would have made her swoon -with horror, and upon which even now she had but too much reason to look -with apprehension and disgust. - -It was a round vaulted room, whose sides were hollowed out into niches, -in each of which a coffin was placed; while here and there the eye -rested on a stately marble monument adorned with carved work and -statues.—Ida shrieked, and the taper fell from her hand. - -—“Now then,” she exclaimed, “I am lost indeed! What said the Monk?—Above -all, avoid a narrow passage, which lies towards the left; it conducts -into the burying-place of a convent. Should you stray thither, and be -discovered by the Nuns, the object of your flight will be lost -irrecoverably, and you will only have exchanged one prison for another. -The Abbess is entirely devoted to your uncle’s interests, and will not -hesitate to restore you to his power.—Alas! alas!” she continued, -wringing her hands, “how plainly do I now remember every word of his -warning, though at the time I little thought of how much consequence it -was to my safety!—Now remembrance comes too late! I am fallen into the -toils: speedy flight indeed might perhaps yet save me; but sleep sits -too heavy on my eye-lids, and my wearied limbs are unable to bear me -further.—I must yield to the impulse, and repose for a few moments, for -I am fatigued almost unto death!—then should no one discover me during -my slumbers, when I awake, I can re-kindle my taper at yonder lamp, and -shall be able to pursue my pilgrimage with recruited strength and -courage.”— - -She then lay down upon the floor near her extinguished taper, resting -her head against an adjacent tomb; nor was it long before she sank into -a profound sleep. Little till then did Ida believe it possible, that she -could sleep among graves and coffins! Still less was she aware, how near -she was at that moment to safety and protection! Oh! how would her -sorrowing heart have been lightened, had she known, that a few hours -must necessarily compel one of her best friends to enter her gloomy -resting-place; one, who at that moment was grieving at the relation of -her flight from the Castle of Torrenburg, which had reached him under -the most scandalous mis-representations, and who was in the most painful -uncertainty respecting her fate and the means of saving and supporting -her. Ida had unconsciously wandered into the cemetery belonging to the -Abbey of Curwald, which was under the direction of her friend and -guardian, Abbot Conrad!—Oh! how eagerly would he have hastened to -embrace and comfort the poor forlorn-one, could some kind angel have -whispered to him in a dream.—“Ida, the unfortunate much-injured Ida -slumbers among the mouldering bones of the Abbots of Cloister-Curwald!”— - -Conrad had dispatched messengers on all sides in pursuit of Ida, as soon -as he received the news of her flight, which Count Frederick transmitted -to him without delay. It seems, that what Father Hilarius dreaded with -so much reason, had actually taken place at the Castle of Torrenburg. No -sooner was the first burst of passion over, than the Count’s justice -made him resolve to give his accused niece a personal hearing—the -morning had scarcely dawned, when he sought her apartments. Her -favourite attendant was ordered to apprize her mistress of his approach: -great was his astonishment, when the maid returned extremely agitated, -and informed him, that Ida was no where to be found. Father Hilarius was -immediately sent for; and his explanation of Ida’s motives for flight of -course was such, as served greatly to increase his patron’s indignation, -and throw a still deeper shade upon the character and conduct of the -fugitive. Elizabeth’s bridegroom had disappeared, immediately after -rejecting her hand at the altar; Ida was now become equally invisible: -it required no great ingenuity to connect these two events together. -Nothing could appear more probable, than that Ida had eloped with Henry, -and that she was gone to form an union built upon the ruined happiness -of her best friends, and to exult at having duped those, whose -good-natured simplicity had prevented them from suspecting her -designs.—Count Frederick’s generous heart was shocked beyond expression, -when he thus saw the offences of his niece presented before him in such -gigantic enormity. - -—“Monstrous!” he exclaimed! “inconceivable! first she plunges a dagger -in the breast of her benefactor, by robbing him of the woman whom he -adored; next she stabs her dearest friend to the heart by seducing away -the bridegroom, into whose arms she had herself delivered her! now then -she believes, that her infernal work is complete; she knows well, that -all ideas of an union between me and Elizabeth are prevented for ever; -she doubts not, that vexation and disappointed love will soon conduct me -to the grave; and then she means to divide my rich inheritance with the -partner of her iniquities, the false capricious perjured Montfort!”— - -Father Hilarius now stepped forward, and represented to him, that it -only depended upon himself to ruin the plans of those, who had so -grossly offended him; and that as to his union with Elizabeth, he for -his part saw no impossibility in the case. The Count eagerly desired him -to explain his meaning; and the obedient Monk proceeded to prove with -the whole force of his eloquence, that Elizabeth deserved pity rather -than blame for her share in these transactions; that she had been -seduced from her duty more by Ida’s arts than by her own inclinations; -and he declared his perfect conviction, that if the Count would now -condescend to make the first advance towards a reconciliation, he would -find her as full of penitence for her error, as grateful for his -proffered affection, and as eager to unite with him in a plan of mutual -revenge, as even the Count himself could desire.—Nor did he make this -last assertion rashly. Father Jacob had already apprized him, that every -thing at the Castle of March was favourable to their views; and he -advised Hilarius to send his patron thither without loss of time, in -order that Elizabeth’s resentment (upon which he chiefly grounded his -hopes of success) might not be allowed time to cool. - -Count Frederick took the Friar’s advice, which was greatly strengthened -by a supposed vision of the Patron-Saint of Torrenburg, who had -condescended in a dream that very night to assure Father Hilarius, that -the consequence of a visit to the Castle of March would be an union with -the lovely Elizabeth. Accordingly the Count lost no time in setting out -to renew his once-rejected proposals, habited as a bridegroom, and -attended by a princely retinue. In the mean while the worthy -house-chaplain did not even allow himself time enough to say his -paternoster, before he dispatched letters to the Bishop of Coira and -Abbot Conrad, in which he related the flight of their ward, the Lady Ida -of Werdenberg, in all its circumstances; stating also the alledged -motives and supposed consequences of this step, and above all not -forgetting to place every circumstance in the light most unfavourable to -the Heroine of the Tale. As they perused these letters, the Abbot and -the good Bishop alternately felt indignation at Ida’s errors, pity for -her misfortunes, and anxiety for the dangers in which she had involved -herself. Willingly would they have believed her innocent; but -appearances were too strong against her, and the Abbot little imagined, -that the only person capable of removing the suspicions, which he was so -anxious to efface, at that very moment reposed so near him. - -In the mean while Ida awoke greatly refreshed by a sound sleep of -several hours. She re-kindled her taper, and resumed her anxious -journey; yet she delayed it for a few moments, while she endeavoured to -read the inscriptions on the monuments, and ascertain to what order the -Abbess belonged, whom Hilarius had described to her in such odious and -terrific colours. These clearly exprest, that the tombs were raised in -honour of the former Abbots of Cloister-Curwald, in whose cemetery she -was standing at that moment: what blessed information for her agitated -heart!—the door was unguarded.—A marble staircase conducted to the -interior of the Abbey!—But alas! the inscriptions were composed in the -Latin language.—Ida vainly endeavoured to comprehend the meaning; and a -few moments sufficing to convince her, that her endeavours must be vain, -the poor wanderer turned away from the neighbourhood of her friend, and -hastened to meet her ruin. - -With trembling limbs and an heart almost bursting with anxiety, she -pursued her gloomy path. She continued to proceed for a considerable -time; and her last taper was almost expiring, when its beams fell upon -the object, which she had wished to behold so long and so anxiously. She -was now certain of having followed the right path, for she saw at a -distance the monument of her progenitrix, the noble Emmeline of Sargans. - -The polished and shining surface of the white marble reflected from afar -the gleam of Ida’s taper—the pilgrim hastened towards it with eager joy, -not untempered by religious awe and reverential terror. With -scarce-heard foot-fall, as if she dreaded to disturb the dead silence of -a place thus sanctified, did Ida ascend the steps leading to this -memorial, raised in honour of faithful love and long suffering. It was -some minutes, before she could resolve on venturing near enough to -examine the statues, with which it was adorned. On one side stood a -female angel (the counterpart of the lovely Emmeline) who trod under her -feet the symbols of cruelty and voluptuousness, and who extended to a -kneeling warrior her right hand, on whose wrist was still fastened part -of the chain, which _he_ had broken.—On the opposite side appeared the -same warrior, who with looks of gratitude held a ring towards Heaven, -probably in allusion to the prophetic dream, which had guided Herman of -Werdenberg to the deliverance of his mistress. - -—“Spirits of my ancestors!” exclaimed Ida, as overpowered by her -sensations she sank on the loftiest step, and kist the hallowed marble; -“spirits of Herman and Emmeline, hear the prayer of your forsaken -persecuted daughter! _I_ suffer now, as _you_ once suffered;—_I_ am -innocent, as _you_ were then!—save me, ye blessed-ones! save the heiress -of your sorrows!”— - -Ida prayed long and fervently.—When she arose, she found that her last -taper was exhausted, and had left her in total darkness; this however -gave her little concern. The religious duties, in which she had just -been engaged, had inspired her heart with enthusiastic courage: besides, -she knew well, that of the three ways branching out of the circular -vault in which she was at that moment, she had only to chuse the middle -one, which (as Father Hilarius had informed her) would conduct her -straight to the outlet of the subterraneous passages. She ascertained -easily by examining the walls, which of the three was the proper path to -take, and then hastened boldly forwards; for she was now persuaded, that -the invisible spirits of her ancestors hovered over her, and she dreaded -no danger, while protected by those celestial guardians. - -The Monk had told her true—the way was straight and unembarrassed with -windings: it soon began to ascend, and the delighted wanderer could at -length discover the faint glimmering of day-light, through the distant -opening. But alas! however near may be the goal of our wishes, who shall -dare to count himself secure of reaching it!—Ida had for some minutes -heard a dead hollow noise behind her, and the ill-boding sounds had -already occasioned her sufficient anxiety to make her double her speed. -Still the noise became more audible: and now she could plainly -distinguish the steps of men, whose arms clattered, as they past along. -She looked back, and could perceive the glimmering of faint lights at a -distance. She rushed forwards with increased rapidity: the sounds, which -became every moment louder, convinced her, not only that she was -pursued, but that her pursuers gained upon her.—Fortunately, the opening -was now at hand; she summoned up all her strength and activity to reach -it, sprang through it, and found herself once more restored to air and -light. - -—“Praised be Heaven, I am safe!” she exclaimed: when at that moment she -felt a cold hand seize her by the arm.—She shrieked, and fell on the -earth senseless. - -It was long, before her recollection returned. When she again unclosed -her eyes, she found herself no longer in the open air. She was placed -upon a kind of couch, in what she supposed to be a tent; a group of men -of terrible and savage aspect surrounded her; and seated on a chest at -no great distance, she perceived a warrior in complete armour, whose -raised visor showed a countenance wild, ’tis true, but still noble and -commanding. - -—“At length then we have found her!” said the warrior in a tone of -exultation—“the lovely pilgrim is in our power, whom we so long sought -in vain through yon gloomy vaults and subterraneous passages.—You are -welcome, fair lady: Father Hilarius gave us notice, that we might expect -your visit; and I rejoice to find, that the description which he gave us -of your charms, was far from exaggerated.”— - -—“Have mercy on my distress, Sir Knight!” cried Ida, who now rose from -her seat with difficulty, and sank at his feet, while she extended her -fettered hands in supplication towards him. - -—“Father Hilarius assured me,” she continued, “that I should find the -habitation of some holy Hermits near the cavern’s mouth: oh! if any such -habitation really exists, in pity guide me thither!”— - -—“Compose yourself, lovely girl,” answered the stranger.—“Hilarius has -not deceived you, neither has he deceived _us_.—He promised us the -possession of a treasure, and he has kept his word, though we mean to -make a better use of it than that, for which he consigned it over to us. -He promised you, that you should find here the habitation of certain -Hermits; and he told you true, for you are actually in a Hermitage at -this moment: many years ago was this the retreat of some fugitive Monks, -who were obliged to seclude themselves from the intercourse of mankind; -and it still forms an abode for a band of daring and persecuted spirits, -whom tyranny and injustice have banished from the world. We too are -Hermits, though not quite such holy ones as those, whom you excepted to -meet. But what does that signify? saints, or sinners, I warrant, you -will fare better in our society, than you would with any company of -Monks, that ever concealed hypocrisy under sackcloth.—Take this as a -specimen of the whole canting-tribe. Father Hilarius has commissioned us -to remove you so far from this province, that your face may never be -seen here again: we have engaged to convey you to a place, where beauty -like yours is always a marketable commodity, and sure of fetching a -heavy price: but you are too fair, too good, too noble, to be sacrificed -to the embraces of an infidel: no, child! we mean to do better for you. -You shall remain with _us_, and your priestly enemy shall be foiled in -his treacherous designs.”— - -—“First understand,” interrupted Ida, whose indignation in spite of -grief and terror burst forth upon hearing this insolent declaration of -the outlaw; “first understand, to _whom_ you speak! I am no ordinary -captive, no low-born girl the fit associate for a band of robbers!—you -see in me the niece of Count Frederick of Torrenburg!”— - -—“Indeed?” replied the outlaw,—“are you then _really_ Count Frederick’s -niece?—why, to let you into the whole secret, we were told as much, -though we did not give the Monk full credit, and suspected _that_ part -of his story to be an invention for the purpose of obtaining a better -price.—But since you are in truth the person whom he mentioned, so much -the better; your rank and expectations make your possession doubly -valuable. I have no sort of objection to exchange my precarious mode of -life for security and opulence, nor by laying aside the title of captain -of a band of outlaws to claim that of Count of Torrenburg in right of my -wife, its lovely heiress. With the assistance of my companions I will -reinstate you in your rights; the previous possession of your hand and -person will entitle me to share your good fortune; and I shall be -indebted to you for my restoration to my proper rank in society, which -necessity has for some time past compelled me unwillingly to resign. Now -then you are apprized of my whole plan, which suggested itself as soon -as Hilarius informed us of your rank, and in which I am fully confirmed -by the powerful impression produced upon my heart by your beauty.”— - -He paused: Ida only answered with her tears—after a few minutes past in -expectation of her reply, the robber thus resumed his discourse. - -—“You are silent? you weep?—Ha! perhaps you are offended that your hands -are fettered?—be comforted; those white hands shall instantly be -restored to liberty!—instantly undo those bonds, barbarians that you -are! how could it come into your heads, that it was necessary to bind a -poor defenceless girl, whose escape is so impossible?—shame upon your -flinty hearts, how could you bear to treat so inhumanly such innocence -and such charms!”— - -The other robbers now hurried to remove the fetters; but their captain -drove them away with curses, and declared, that from that moment no one -except himself should dare to approach his lovely captive on pain of -instantaneous death.—He then kissed the unbound hands of Ida, led her -respectfully into another tent, and there left her alone, after -entreating her to compose her agitated spirits, and assuring her, that -she might rely upon meeting from him with none but the most honourable -treatment. - -Ida, equally overcome with mental and bodily fatigue, sank into a state -of unconsciousness and stupor, which the sentinels who were appointed to -guard the entrance of her tent (and who from time to time looked in upon -their charge) interpreted to be a tranquil sleep, and failed not to -bring this welcome intelligence to their captain.—He received it with -the highest satisfaction, hailed this refreshing slumber as the first -step towards the restoration of tranquillity, doubted not that he should -find Ida more composed and resigned to her fate on his evening visit, -and found her almost frantic through despair. - -The peremptory manner in which Ida rejected his addresses, and the -little progress which he made in reconciling her to her present -situation, grieved the robber-chief to the very heart, but did not -excite his indignation. He continued to treat her with the utmost -respect and attention. Nothing was denied her except liberty; and -Randolf (for that was the name of the enamoured outlaw) carried his -politeness and deference so far, that he never even presumed to enter -her tent without having previously obtained her permission. - -Ida, whose presence of mind gradually returned, and who became collected -enough to reflect on the best means of conducting herself in such -difficult circumstances, could not but feel, that such attention on the -part of Randolf required some return on hers. She was totally in his -power; it was unwise to exasperate him; and she therefore judged it -prudent to allow him permission to pay her a daily visit of an hour, -since she feared with reason, that without this voluntary concession he -might be induced to allow himself greater liberties without asking her -leave. - -—“May I, lady,” said he one morning, after she had past some days in his -power; “may I request permission to present to you one of my friends, -who holds in this society the next place to myself?—he is a nobleman, -whom misfortunes have compelled like me to adopt a mode of life, which -we both look upon with abhorrence, and which with the first opportunity -we are determined to exchange for one more honourable.”— - -Ida was sufficiently aware, that the _opportunity_ to which he alluded, -was the possession of her hand, by which he hoped to give himself a -claim to the Count of Torrenburg’s rich inheritance. He frequently in -conversation threw out hints of this nature, but which she judged it -most wise to let pass without observation. She now only answered that -part of his speech, which regarded the introduction of his friend, and -to which (as she feared to irritate her jailor by a refusal) she gave an -unwilling consent. - -On his next visit he was accompanied by a man, whose countenance was -much more wild and his manners much less prepossessing, than those of -Randolf. The latter presented the new visitor by the name of Sir Gero of -Altheim. - -The captive soon understood from the conversation, which past between -the associates, that the antipathy, which Gero’s first appearance had -excited in her bosom, had not been excited without good grounds. He -possest not the smallest share of that delicacy and respectful -attention, by which her lover was characterized. He permitted himself to -make the most licentious and offensive observations upon the -extraordinary charms of her person, and raised her original disgust to -abhorrence by blaming Randolf for having suffered his passion to remain -so long ungratified; assuring him at the same time, that he would have -dealt far differently with his own lovely mistress, had not her -religious habit terrified him from using force, and thereby drawing down -the vengeance of offended Heaven.—For it seems, this wretch, though he -trampled upon all laws human and divine, was still a slave to the -grossest superstition, and trembled at the very sight of a veil or a -rosary. - -—“She has now been some days in your possession,” observed Randolf; -“have you made any progress with the fair Nun?”— - -“Not I!” replied Gero; “she is a miracle of beauty, its true, but her -obstinacy equals her charms. Since the day that I captured her on the -road to Zurich, I have been able to obtain nothing from her but tears -and entreaties for her liberty: and as to proceeding to violence, I am -too much afraid of the resentment of holy mother church, or I should put -an end to her resistance before to-morrow morning.”— - -During this conversation Ida remained silent, and abandoned herself to -the melancholy reflections excited by the increased consciousness of the -execrable society, of which she was so unfortunately become a member. -But now when she found that she had a companion in misfortune, and that -a person of her own sex (a virtuous and persecuted Nun) was so near her, -a sentiment of secret satisfaction and hope infused itself into her -bosom. - -—“Oh! Sir Knight,” she exclaimed, addressing herself to Randolf, “how -happy would you make me, could you but procure for me the company of Sir -Gero’s captive! it is disgraceful, it is dreadful, for a young maiden to -be alone in a society entirely composed of men and strangers; and I -feel, that the presence of a person of my own sex would be to me a -source of the greatest consolation! it would conduce beyond all else to -make me endure my confinement with resignation! oh! good Sir Randolf, -plead for me with your friend, and persuade him to allow me this -unexpected pleasure!”— - -The smile, with which she accompanied this request (’twas the first -which played upon her lips, since she became a captive) was -irresistible. As she pronounced the last word, she extended her hand -towards him, and he kissed it with rapture. A wish, exprest in a manner -so fascinating and so unlooked for, was a law to the enamoured robber; -and addressing himself immediately to his companion, he enforced her -request with so much energy, that Gero though with a sorry grace found -himself compelled to grant it. - -—“Now then” said Randolf, as he left the tent with Gero, “now then you -can judge for yourself, which of our modes of treating our captives is -the most likely to succeed at the long run. When did your Nun ever speak -to you with such gentleness, or favour you with so sweet a smile? when -did she ever extend her hand towards you of her own accord, and suffer -you to press your lips upon it? credit me, Gero; send her to my -mistress, and I will bet my head upon it, that before long half her -obstinacy and aversion will have disappeared. You see, how complaisant I -have made the lady Ida; and it only requires a little kindness and -flattery well applied to make our religious ladies, just as tame and as -obliging as their sisters of the wicked world.”— - -In the course of the day Randolf returned to inform Ida, that she must -not expect the visit of the captive Nun till after midnight. - -—“My friend,” said he, “is obliged to keep it a profound secret from the -greatest part of our companions, that such a prisoner is in his -possession. That he has a mistress, indeed, they are aware; but it would -make a terrible uproar in our community, were it known that Gero had -carried off a Nun; and many among our associates, who would think -nothing of half a dozen murders, would expect the rocks to fall and -crush us the very next moment, for daring to lay sacrilegious hands upon -a damsel dedicated to Heaven. To be sure, we violated no sanctuary to -get at her, for we found her trotting along the high road, when she -ought to have been quiet within the walls of her Convent: but still the -very sight of a veil has such influence over the common rabble, that -Gero does not think it prudent to bring her to your tent except under -the protecting shadow of night. He also implores you by me to reward him -for this compliance with your wishes, by persuading her to lend a more -favourable ear to his passion: he is also desirous of learning her name, -which hitherto she has obstinately concealed; and above all he is -anxious, that she should lay aside her religious habit, which hourly -exposes him to danger from his superstitious associates. I know, what -you are going to observe: you believe, that it is nothing but respect -for this habit, which preserves her from Gero’s violence; but I swear to -you by everything that is most sacred and solemn, that neither she nor -yourself have anything to fear from the men who adore you. Our -intentions towards you are the most honourable: we have great designs in -hand, whose nature I am not as yet permitted to disclose to you; but be -assured, that should they succeed, the Countess of Werdenberg and the -fair Nun will have reason to bless the day when they fell into our -hands, and thus escaped the being immured for life within the gloomy -walls of a Convent; a fate, from which _she_ has been rescued, and to -which _you_ were doomed.”— - -The prudent Ida, (who saw that favours, which had cost her so little, -were so well rewarded by her grateful admirer) took good care not to -contradict the robber. She answered him by a thousand thanks for his -intercession with Gero, and for his assurances of regard for her -welfare; and she then dismissed him with a smile so gracious and so -sweet, as riveted his chains for ever. When beauty, and sense are united -in the same woman, alas! what puppets in her hands are the mighty lords -of the creation! - -Midnight arrived—the hearts of both the captives throbbed with -impatience for the moment of meeting, though they knew not, what made -them so impatient. Never seemed time to move so slowly with Ida, as -while she waited for the stranger’s arrival; and on her side the lovely -Nun quite trembled with joy, while she followed her conductors to the -tent, in which (so Gero had informed her,) she should find a companion -in captivity, whose heart was prepared to sympathize in her -misfortunes—the robbers conducted her to the door of the tent; but -thinking it would be most agreeable to the ladies, that their first -interview should pass without intruders, they suffered her to enter -alone. - -It was well for both the captives, that this meeting took place without -witnesses.—Ida was sitting in a melancholy posture, when she heard an -approaching footstep.—She started up, and beheld by the pale gleams of -her lamp a tall light figure, whose face was covered with a thick veil, -advancing from the entrance of the tent. She hastened to meet her, but -uttering a loud cry, she started back again. The religious habit worn by -the stranger was but too well known to her.—It was the long grey garment -decorated with a golden cross upon the breast, in which she had so often -seen the Nuns gliding through the cloisters of Engelberg; and the white -veil, edged with black and falling to the very ground, was of that -particular form appropriated to the order of the Zurich Sisters. The -veil was now hastily thrown back; Ida gazed eagerly upon the Stranger’s -features, and astonishment, joy, and tenderness were carried to the -highest pitch. - -—“Constantia!” exclaimed Ida.—“Oh! Heaven! it is my Constantia!”— - -—“Ida! my Ida!” shrieked the Nun, and clasped her almost fainting sister -to her bosom. - -And now the Sisters wept for joy to think, that they were once more -united; and now they wept for grief at reflecting, that this union had -only made each a partner in the other’s captivity. At length having -sufficiently collected their scattered thoughts, they made mutual -enquiries as to the events, which had produced a meeting so unexpected. -Ida related the long and fearful tale of adventures, which had so -rapidly crouded upon her since Elizabeth’s wedding: on the other hand, -Constantia briefly stated, that on her way back to her Convent at -Zurich, her party had been encountered by a band of robbers: the -Cloister-Vassals, whom the Abbess had sent to protect her, were soon put -to flight; and thus was she brought into the hands of Gero, whom she had -the misfortune to inspire with so violent a passion, that he purchased -her from his companions with his share of the booty arising from the -whole produce of their excursion. - -The night past away in mutual congratulations on this meeting so -unexpected; and when morning broke, they recollected, that their plans -for the future were still unarranged. They had now only time to settle, -that as the knowledge of Ida’s rank had only served to make the robbers -consider her possession as of double value, it would be most prudent to -conceal Constantia’s real title; and accordingly she resolved to resume -her former appellation of Mary Tell, an appellation under which she had -past the only happy part of her existence. - -When Randolf the next morning inquired of Ida, what she thought of the -fair Nun, she replied, that her society was extremely pleasing, and -would be much more so, were it not for a certain coldness and reserve, -which probably would wear off upon further acquaintance. In a few days -she informed Gero, that she had discovered the name of his mistress to -be Mary Tell; and thus did Constantia avoid the dangerous importance -attached to the title of a Countess of Werdenberg. By her sister’s -advice, she abated somewhat of the haughty coldness, with which she had -hitherto represt the addresses of her ferocious lover; though they both -judged it unwise for her to comply with his request, that she should lay -aside her religious habit. This had hitherto been the means of -protecting her against more violent means of enforcing his passion; and -they were of opinion, that too many restraints could not well be imposed -upon an affection so ill-regulated as the sentiment, which Gero -dignified with the name of love. However, gentle looks and expressions -of gratitude for his attentions were not occasionally refused by -Constantia: Gero had been so little accustomed to be thus mildly treated -by her, that even these trifling condescensions appeared to him of -inestimable value; and when in return for his assurances of future -respect, she one day deigned to extend towards him her alabaster hand, -the robber was so transported, that he took the first opportunity of -thanking Ida upon his knees for a change, which he attributed entirely -to her powerful influence, and which he implored her to exert still -further in his behalf. - -—“Noble lady,” said he, “you have often heard Randolf hint, that we have -great plans in agitation, whose chief object is the promotion of your -interests; nor are they unconnected with the happiness of myself and my -adorable Nun. A dreadful oath forbids my saying more on this subject at -present; but rest assured, when the time for explanation arrives, that -explanation will be such, as must perforce content you. In the mean -while suffer me to make to you one request. It is necessary for the -success of our undertaking, that yourself and the lovely Mary (together -with our jewels, gold, and all things which we possess of value) should -be removed from this valley to a retreat at some distance. During the -journey, and your residence at this new abode, promise me, that you will -keep a watchful eye over your fair companion, on whose attachment I can -by no means rely with the same confidence, which Randolf places on -yours. In this respect, he is far more fortunate than his friend; since -the kind reception, which he never fails to meet from you, in spite of -the awe with which your modest air and dignified demeanour inspires him, -leaves but little doubt, that you are sensible of his worth, and will in -time be disposed to reward so steady an attachment. Besides this, I am -convinced, that you have too much solid understanding to think of -escaping from a place, whose very nature will convince you on your -arrival, that any such attempt must be unsuccessful: but no one can say, -what dangerous impossibilities a Nun may not be induced to undertake, -animated by religious enthusiasm, and confident in the supposed -protection of the Saint, to whom her service is dedicated. These -illusions may heat her brain, till she desperately braves every peril, -overlooks every difficulty, and will draw down inevitable ruin on her -own existence, while she leaves me to lament over my baffled hopes. Then -mark me, Lady!—watch over Mary’s steps with unceasing assiduity: when we -again meet, restore her to me safe and lovely, as I now leave her; or -never hope to see yourself re-instated in your claims by the valour of -my arms and those of my companions, nor restored to society by the -acknowledged title of Countess of Werdenberg, and heiress of the wide -domains of Torrenburg, Carlsheim, and Sargans.”— - -This speech, which was begun in a kneeling posture and in the softest -tone, which a voice so naturally rough could adopt, assumed as it -proceeded an air of menace, and was terminated by Gero with a terrible -frown and a loud stroke upon the brazen pommel of his sword. Nearly the -same discourse was repeated to her in the evening, (though conveyed in -much milder language) by Randolf. She delivered such a reply, as -circumstances compelled her to give, and trembled, as she listened to -some obscure hints and disjointed observations, which fell from the -outlaw, but which no solicitations could induce him to explain. However, -she had heard enough to excite in her mind the most painful -apprehensions, though not enough to certify their being well-grounded. - -The preparations for setting out were soon completed: the treasures were -packed up; and the Sisters were now informed, that the place of their -destination was a narrow valley situated in the heart of the Mountains -of Hapsburg. Gero and Randolf took a tender but respectful leave of the -fair travellers, who were escorted by a small band of soldiers, composed -of such members of this lawless society as were unfitted by advanced -years for taking part in that great undertaking, to assist in which, the -young and active were detained. The ladies set forward, but not till Ida -had made some observations, which rendered her doubly impatient to -commence her journey. - -—“Oh! my sister,” she said, as soon as she found an opportunity of -conversing without being overheard, “did you not observe among Randolf’s -followers countenances, which you had seen before? In spite of their -change of dress, I am certain, that the two who rode next to Gero were -Friars, who often visited the Castle of Torrenburg.”— - -—“Alas!” answered Constantia, “it is not now, that I learn for the first -time, that a perfect understanding subsists between these robbers and -the unworthy members of some religious community. During my confinement -in Gero’s tent I frequently observed monks among his visitors; of whose -principles you will judge, when I inform you, that they made no scruple -to counsel my encouraging the licentious addresses of my jailor, though -they were thoroughly persuaded, that I was a dedicated Nun: they offered -to release me from my vows, laughed at (what they termed) the absurdity -of my prejudices, promised me entire absolution, and advised me to pay -no more respect to my veil, than they did to their cowls and -scapularies. Conceive, dear Ida, my sufferings, while compelled to -listen to such profane suggestions, and to repress the indignation, -which they excited in my bosom.”— - -—“And have you then no guess,” demanded Ida, “what is the object of an -union so singular?—Did they never let fall a syllable, whence you could -collect the nature of this mysterious enterprize, on which they are now -departed?”— - -Constantia declared her perfect ignorance on the subject. - -“Alas! alas!” resumed Ida, “dreadful apprehensions force themselves upon -my mind! Randolf frequently suffered hints to escape him, which the more -that I reflect on them, serve but to confirm my fears the more. The -robbers have a private understanding with the false Hilarius.—The Monks, -whom I discovered in Randolf’s train, are of the same order with that -betrayer!—It’s true, Count Frederick has treated me cruelly and -unjustly, and now little merits, that I should feel anxiety on his -account. Yet, oh! that I were but near him for one half hour, that I -might warn him of the dangers, which hang over him and his, and which I -would willingly avert, though the price were the last drop of my blood -and the last breath existence.”— - -The Sisters had full leisure in the wild solitude to which they were -conveyed, to communicate to each other their mutual fears and melancholy -forebodings. Ida’s insinuating manners soon rendered her a favourite -with her grey-headed guards; and the persuasion of Constantia’s -religious vocation made them bow with superstitious reverence at her -approach, and hold it an honour to be suffered to kiss the hem of her -sanctified garment. In consequence of these prepossessions in their -favour, the Sisters had no other reason to complain of their treatment -in confinement, than the confinement itself. - -The place, in which they now resided, was inaccessible to all, except -the robbers, and the rays of the sun. It was a flat spot surrounded by a -chain of snow-covered mountains; one narrow footpath hewn in the rock -was the only entrance, whose windings were known to none except the -ferocious inhabitants of this valley; and which the sudden descent of -weights of snow and of ice-splinters[1] from the over-hanging rocks -frequently rendered for some time impracticable even for them. The -Sisters shuddered, as they gazed upon the gigantic masses of rocks of -ice, which glittered coldly around them as far as the eye could reach; -and they could not conceal their terrors at reflecting, that a single -motion of those cloud-covered summits would be sufficient to convert the -valley into their inevitable grave. The chief of their guards, however, -upon hearing them make this remark assured them, that this never _would_ -happen, because it never _had_ happened yet. - -Footnote 1: - - Avalanches. - -—“You must know, fair ladies,” said he, “that I am one of the most -antient among the heroes, who have the honour to serve under the banners -of Sir Randolf of Mansfeld. While I was but a child, I fled hither with -my poor father, then the innocent victim of monkish persecution, and we -found a kind refuge in the bosom of these mountains. The man, who was -then at the head of this hospitable community, had been acquainted with -the first institutor of the band, and had learned from him many -remarkable particulars respecting this valley; some of them in good -truth enough to curdle the young blood in your veins with very terror: -but as to such an accident as that which you apprehend, never had such a -thing been known to happen. Therefore set your hearts at rest, ladies: -the valley lasted out _his_ time; you see, it has almost lasted out -_mine_, and I warrant you, it will last out yours also.”— - -The Sisters had no better means of passing the tedious hours of -captivity than in listening to the old robber’s never-ending narratives: -besides, they thought it by no means impossible, that in the warmth of -discourse some particulars might escape him, which might tend to the -improvement of their own situation. They therefore often entreated him -to relate the adventures of his father, who had been so unjustly -persecuted; as also to tell them, what he had learnt, from his first -captain, respecting the original founder of this society of freebooters, -and to give them some account of the various singularities of the -mountains. They could not be better pleased to listen, than the old man -was to talk; and he answered these inquiries at much greater length, -than I shall repeat at present: with his persecuted father we have no -occasion for concerning ourselves; and as to the wonders of the -mountains, we are likely to obtain a more particular description of them -from another quarter: the only point then, which need be repeated for -the gratification of the curious, is the manner, in which the habitation -of holy Anchorets became converted into a retreat for banditti. - -Whoever is acquainted with the antient history of Sargans, cannot but -remember, that these private recesses of the mountains were inhabited by -a society of fugitive Monks from Cloister Curwald. The institution of -this society took place in the time of Count Ethelbert of Carlsheim; and -it was continued by the occasional reception of new members, as often as -death reduced the number, to which it had been limited by its founder, -Abbot Christian. That number was six; but for want of novices it was -reduced to two, at the period, when Luprian, the licentious Abbot of -Cloister-Curwald, (flying from the vengeance of Count Herman of -Werdenberg, and from the punishment due to his inhuman treatment of the -Lady Emmeline) was conducted by chance to this secluded Hermitage. - -The pious Anchorets received him with the most benevolent welcome: they -gave full credit to his tale of persecuted innocence, and looked upon -the virtuous sufferer as an angel conducted thither by the hand of -Heaven, that he might comfort and sustain them under the infirmities of -age, and might close their eyes, when death should draw nigh their stony -couches. This last piece of service Luprian lost no time in rendering -them. He imagined, that they possest concealed treasures of immense -value, which would enable him to lead once more a life of luxury in some -foreign country, could he but obtain the inheritance of his hosts. In -consequence of this persuasion, the old hermits slept in the grave -sooner, than nature had intended; and Luprian without an hour’s delay -ransacked every corner of the cave. His expectations were cruelly -disappointed. He found nothing more than the usual possessions of an -Anchoret; cowls, scapularies, crosses, and a few relics of saints and -martyrs. But of gold or jewels there appeared not the slightest vestige; -and Luprian had the mortification to find, that he had committed one of -the most horrible crimes ever perpetrated on earth, without deriving -from it even the most insignificant advantage. - -Yet was it not its guilt, which made him lament the commission of this -action; no, ’twas its having been committed without reward. His -conscience was by no means of so delicate a texture, as to make him feel -uncomfortable, while inhabiting the scene of this atrocious murder. On -the contrary, he resolved on making this well-concealed retreat the -theatre of fresh offences, and immediately employed himself in -collecting a set of men, whose hearts were depraved, whose characters -were blasted, and whose prospects in the world were ruined like his own. -These he conducted to the mountain-valley, and became the founder of a -band of free-booters, which had now existed above a hundred years, and -which had brought inexpressible calamity on all the neighbouring -country. The rich and the poor, the nobleman and the peasant, alike -mourned over their ravaged fields, and plundered dwellings, their -murdered children and dishonoured wives; and yet did the authors of all -this mischief set punishment at defiance, protected by their secret -caverns and their snow-clad impracticable rocks. - -Their numbers had gradually increased. Hither fled for refuge many a -ruined nobleman, no longer able by honest means to supply his pampered -appetites with those indulgencies, which habit had now made absolutely -necessary: many a fugitive Monk, who dreaded the chastisement so justly -due to his violated vows: many a blood-guilty culprit, to whom the world -offered no happier prospect than the gibbet or the rack: and alas! many -an innocent sufferer, driven by the persecution of the powerful or by -the bann of the church to this wild society, in whose polluted bosom he -for the first time became acquainted with guilt. The numbers of these -banditti now considerably exceeded a thousand, all of whom acknowledged -as their chiefs Randolf and Gero. - -Besides the above information, the old robber communicated to his fair -questioner many particulars respecting the neighbouring mountains, every -succeeding one of which was more wonderful and terrific than its -predecessor. The Sisters believed no more of these extraordinary tales -than they thought proper: however, they obtained much more credit with -the one, than with the other. Ida’s solitary wanderings through the -subterraneous caverns of her uncle’s castle had given her a degree of -confidence in danger, which before was totally wanting in her character: -and the experience which she had thus acquired, in addition to her -natural high spirits and enthusiastic imagination, converted her from -being the most timid of created beings into a kind of demi-heroine, -ready for adventures, and disposed to set all perils at defiance. - -—“All things well considered,” said she to her sister, as they sat one -star-light night before the door of their cavern, round which their -guards lay sleeping; “all things well considered, I am convinced, that -flight is absolutely necessary, and by no means unlikely to be attended -with success. Whether Randolf and Gero prosper in their plans, or fail, -their return will equally bring with it our certain ruin. Then before -that dreaded return takes place, let us summon up our resolution, and -seize the first favourable opportunity to explore the way through yonder -chain of mountains, which old Hugo has described to us in such terrible -colours. The way, by which I fled from the Castle of Sargans, was not -without its horrors: yet I soon grew accustomed to them; and how far -inferior were they to those, which I had heard attributed to the -caverns, and which I believed to be real, till experience convinced me -of my error! Oh, be assured, Constantia! we shall find, that a similar -deception has been used in the present case. Yonder mountains, I am -persuaded, are not entirely covered with ice and snow; between them may -be found, no doubt, many a green and sheltered valley, where we may rest -occasionally, and recover strength sufficient to endure and to conquer -the dangers and difficulties of the way, which still remains to be -traversed. Who knows, but their lofty heads conceal from us some happy -smiling regions, where we may pass the rest of our lives unknown and -unnoticed in innocence and peace, and may become once more as happy, as -we were in the morning of our youth on the banks of the Lake of Thun and -in the green vallies of Frutiger?—Dearest Constantia, be resolute, and -let us hazard the attempt! For the worse, our situation cannot change: -we can lose nothing, even should we fail; we may gain every thing, if we -succeed: even at the worst, the attempt however unprosperous must obtain -for us _one_ advantage, a release from captivity by death without -dishonour.”— - -In answer to these representations, Constantia reminded her sister of -the fearful traditions, which Hugo had related to them, respecting the -mountains, and the fantastic beings supposed to inhabit them. She -pointed to the Halsberg Rock, whose steep and lofty head rose exactly -opposite to them, glittering through the gloom of night like an immense -star; and she inquired of Ida, to what cause she attributed this -extraordinary splendour? Was it by any means improbable (she asked) that -these inaccessible heights were appropriated to the residence of evil -spirits; who by night endured there the punishment due to their crimes -in sulphureous fires, of which that light was the reflection; and who by -day employed themselves in leading astray such unwary travellers, as -ventured too near the place of their mysterious torments, and in hurling -them down frightful precipices into depths and abysses, never to rise -again? - -Ida replied, that it was by no means her intention to travel into the -clouds so far as the place, whose dazzling brightness had induced her -sister to people it with such terrific inhabitants: and she added, that -being determined on flight, she was better pleased to believe, that the -brightness itself, which seemed like a crown of diamonds encircling the -brows of the venerable Halsberg and his brethren, proceeded merely from -the reflection of the moon and stars on the ice-covered cliffs and -crags, than from brimstone and sulphur burning in a terrestrial Hell. - -Constantia’s long abode in a convent and her visionary turn of mind, -made it difficult for Ida to get the better of these superstitious -terrors: yet at length she succeeded. They began to make the necessary -preparations for their attempt. They lost no opportunity of secreting -such provisions, as were not of a very perishable nature and were easy -of conveyance; they also endeavoured to accustom themselves to taking -but little sustenance in the course of the day; and they soon flattered -themselves, that whatever might otherwise be the dangers of their -expedition, they were at least secure against suffering from the attacks -of those two most cruel enemies of poor pilgrims, hunger and thirst. As -to pretences for absenting themselves from the valley, they were easily -to be found. The robbers were too thoroughly persuaded, that flight was -impossible, and too strongly imprest with the idea, that women were too -great cowards to hazard such an attempt, for them to keep any very -strict watch over their prisoners. - -Constantia was particularly dexterous in laying springes for snipes, -woodcocks, and other birds, which frequented these rocks in great -numbers; and the light-footed Ida would often explore places in search -of their eggs, where the chamois himself would scarcely have ventured to -climb. Then when the Sisters were successful, they knew so well how to -prepare their booty for the table in a manner the best calculated to -please the palate, that even old Hugo did not think it beneath him to -accept a part of the savoury repast. Sometimes, the eagerness of this -pursuit prevented the girls from perceiving the flight of time; and -night was already closing in, before they regained the cavern. However, -as they seldom returned with empty hands, and as they always did return -at last, these long excursions were seldom found fault with.—One of the -robbers indeed thought proper in a moment of ill-humour to remonstrate -with Hugo on the too great liberty allowed the captives, and to -represent the possibility of their seizing the opportunity to escape; -but the old man was faithful also on this occasion to the opinion, which -he had formerly given respecting the fall of the ice-crags; and -continued to content himself with thinking,—“that which never had -happened, in all probability never would happen at all;” indeed this was -on all occasions a favourite maxim with him: and he frequently averred, -that his adhering to it through life had saved his head many an -unnecessary care, and his limbs many an unnecessary journey. - -In the course of these excursions, the Sisters had examined the lower -part of most of the mountains towards the north. They agreed, that a -particular path, which seemed to lead straight over the Halsberg Rock, -appeared to offer the most convenient passage and the greatest prospect -of a successful end to their journey. By this path then they determined -to set forward, as soon as they could summon up resolution sufficient to -enter upon so dangerous an undertaking; but this was no easy matter, and -they still thought it better with every succeeding day to postpone their -journey to the next. - -In the mean while, it appeared that Gero and Randolf had not found their -plans so easy of execution, as they had flattered themselves would have -been the case. This was evident from their thinking it necessary to send -for the greatest part of those of their associates, who had been -appointed to watch over the captives and treasures concealed in the -secret valley; and who, being chiefly men, whose strength was -considerably impaired by age or wounds, could only be required to give -assistance in some case of most urgent necessity. This unexpected demand -for their services produced much disturbance among the grey-headed -miscreants. The Sisters thought this a favourable opportunity for -putting their design in execution. Their preparations were already -completed: each took a basket well-filled with wine and provisions in -her left hand, and grasped with her right a strong and knotted staff to -support her tottering feet, as she traversed the slippery paths of the -mountains: and then with hearts beating anxiously, and with cheeks, -almost as pale as the snow-hills to which their steps were addrest, they -set forward to pursue a path till then never trodden by the foot of -mortal. - -Each was persuaded, that she was thoroughly acquainted with the nature -of these mountains, because they had examined the two or three first -miles of them. They dreamed of green vales and silvery fountains, -because they had occasionally found such among the lower parts of the -Halsberg Rock. But how bitter were their sensations, when they -perceived, that with every moment the path became more rough and -difficult; when they found, that their endeavours to keep on the same -level were in vain, and that they were compelled to ascend into the more -bleak and lofty regions of the mountain! at length they stopped in -despair: they exchanged looks of terror, and murmured a few broken -words, respecting the hopelessness of their attempt and the necessity of -returning. They embraced each other with a sigh of anguish, and then -began to retrace their way to the robber’s valley; for even this now -appeared to them an object less terrible, than certain death in this -kingdom of frost and desolation. However, they had not proceeded far, -before they discovered, that (miserable as it was) even this last -resource was denied to them. It was evident, that they had missed their -way; to which ever side their course was directed, they still found -themselves compelled to ascend. It seemed, as if they were inclosed in -some magician’s circle, from whence there was no escaping; or as if -incensed at their invasion of his territories, the spirit of the -mountain had so fascinated their eyes, that they could only see the -paths which led upwards to his cloudy palace, but none which by -descending into the vale would enable them to escape from his vengeance. - -As yet they had not felt themselves quite solitary in these realms of -terror. Sometimes a chamois bounded by them; sometimes their footsteps, -echoing from the frozen rock, scared from its nest a screaming eagle: -but still the further that they advanced, the more silent and awful -seemed all around them; and the greater that the number became of those -gigantic masses of ice, which they left behind, the greater number still -were seen towering before them in the distance. Here all animation -seemed to end: here the stillness of death appeared to have fixed its -everlasting dwelling. No solitary weed, no single blade of grass showed -itself from between the frozen rifts. Only here and there appeared some -scanty patches of moss, and of another plant without colour, taste, or -smell; thin, frail and white as the snow, from which it was produced. - -Constantia paused for a moment: she prest her sister’s hand, and silent -tears streamed down her cheeks, while she pointed to a pair of -milk-white butterflies; the only living creatures to be seen in this -melancholy place, and perhaps the last, which _they_ should ever see. It -was clear, that not their own sport or inclination had brought the -insects thither, but that some unlucky gust of wind had forced them into -these inhospitable desarts. The poor little flutterers flew round each -other for a while in still contracting-circles, and then sank on the -ground, overpowered by the killing wind which blew from the Ice-hills. -The Sisters gazed upon them with looks of compassionate anguish; in the -fate of these two unfortunate wanderers they read their own. Their feet -were already seized by the frost; it would have been impossible for them -to have proceeded much further, had not a better path presented itself -before them. This, it is true, was free from ice and snow; but on the -other hand it was much more difficult and rough, on account of immense -masses of fallen rock, which occasionally barred up the path completely. -Over these they were obliged to climb, not without danger; neither did -they suffer themselves to be scared from proceeding by the precipices, -which frequently yawned on both sides of them, and threatened the poor -Pilgrims with death in their abysses. But oh! how amply were they repaid -for all which they had suffered in traversing this path, when they -perceived some narrow planks laid from one of those precipices to -another. Here then were certain proofs, that human beings had past this -way before them; had performed the journey with success; and had left -these memorials to assure any wanderers who might follow them, that it -was not impossible for patience and perseverance to overcome the -obstacles, which opposed their painful progress. Now then the Sisters -hastened onwards with fresh spirits and recruited hopes. Alas! it was -not long, before each separately perceived skulls, and other fragments -of human skeletons, which told them but too plainly, how vain was the -attempt of escaping from these rocks with life! each knew but too well -the object which shocked her; each felt but too plainly the truth, which -the sight of that object conveyed: but neither told what she had seen to -the other, lest she should make her sister’s bosom share the anguish of -her own. - -Thus did the poor weary girls continue to wander onwards, till day-light -faded; the increasing gloom made the surrounding objects appear doubly -terrific. At length the moon rose. Ida and Constantia were passionate -admirers of the charms of nature: it is true, that their hearts were too -full of anxiety, and their limbs too much tortured by the severity of -the frost, to admit of their feeling in its whole strength of beauty the -admirable scene, which the moon-beams now exhibited to their view: yet -was not that beauty entirely disregarded by them. Each called her -sister’s attention to the dazzling and indescribable splendour, which -now unexpectedly surrounded them: each, in hopes of imparting a gleam of -momentary satisfaction to the other, exaggerated her admiration at the -pompous show, and forced an expression of pleasure into her countenance, -which was totally foreign to her heart. The moon rose still higher; her -image was reflected a thousand-fold from the enormous crystallizations, -which presented themselves on all sides, hanging from the broken crags, -and threatening every moment to fall into the profound gulphs beneath -them. The objects around seemed on a sudden like some region described -in romance, where diamond-rocks and palaces of precious stones are -raised in an instant in a wild desart by the wand of some arch-magician: -everything appeared enchanted, and the Sisters, as they now hastened -onwards, seemed wandering in a flood of silver light: but alas! that -light was cheerless and unwarming. It only enabled them to contemplate -the regions of frost around them, but gave them no relief from the pain, -which that frost inflicted! with a sentiment of sorrow not to be -exprest, they folded each other in a strict embrace. - -—“All around us is so bright and fair!” said Ida; “alas! and _we_ are so -wretched!”— - -Constantia only answered her with tears—yet after remaining for a few -moments in this attitude of tender sorrow, they were sensible, that a -kind of cheering warmth had communicated itself from each bosom to the -other. Yet Constantia now declared, that she found it impossible for her -to proceed onwards: but if any place could be found, not so totally -frozen as to threaten any one, who should rest there, with the sleep of -death, she trusted, that after a short repose she should be able to -resume her journey with recruited strength and spirits. They had fancied -for some time, that they could distinguish the distant murmur of a -stream of water; and they now naturally concluded, that a place, where -water was still unfettered enough to flow, could not be altogether -destitute of warmth. - -Ida encouraged her fainting sister to drag herself a few paces further, -in hopes of discovering that place of rest, which she had just declared -so necessary. - -They ventured to enter one of the enormous caverns, which the -penetrating moon-beams deprived of some part of its natural terrors. As -they proceeded, they were sensible of a different temperature of air -from that, which they breathed in the more exposed parts of the -mountain: by comparison they could almost call the sensation, which they -now experienced, by the pleasing name of warmth; and the feel of -something like soft moss under their feet encouraged them with the -conviction, that here at least all vegetation was not completely at an -end. The roar of the water-fall by this time was almost deafening; but -no persuasions could induce the timid Constantia to advance one step -further into the cavern, than where it was illuminated by the -moon-beams. - -She sank almost insensible upon the mossy carpet; while the more active -Ida bethought herself of every possible means of alleviating the -sufferings of her fellow-Pilgrim. The contents of their baskets remained -untouched, for anxiety of heart had prevented them hitherto from being -sensible either of thirst, or hunger. Ida now bathed her sister’s pale -lips with some drops of wine; she then splintered the staves, which had -guided their tottering steps in this hazardous journey; and she hastened -to collect a few precious fragments of broken wood, which while entering -the cavern she had remarked in the moon-shine; probably they were the -remains of a plank, which had served some former traveller as a bridge -over the wide chasms between the rocks. - -With a flint and the steel clasp of her girdle she contrived to strike -out a few sparks of fire. It was not long, before she had the -satisfaction to see the wood blazing; and she started in admiration and -astonishment at the magnificent show, which the strengthening fire-light -presented before her; the Sisters were at the entrance of an immense and -vaulted cavern, whose sides and roof appeared to be entirely formed of -ice: from the extreme end of it the rush of the water-fall proceeded and -was repeated by innumerable echoes: while the flames played sometimes on -large sheets of crystal, smooth, bright, and polished as Venetian -mirrors, and sometimes fell upon the broken crags of the rock, whence -they were reflected in a thousand ways, and which they tinged with a -thousand colours. - -But this was not the time for amusing herself with unprofitable -observation, and Ida soon recovered herself from her momentary -enthusiasm. Constantia lay by the side of the little fire, still in -great need of comfort and assistance; and it was long, before her -sister’s efforts to revive her produced the desired effect. The first -favourable consequence of these endeavours was a gentle slumber, as she -lay reclined upon the moss, which by this time, had acquired a slight -degree of warmth; Ida seated herself close by the fire, occupied in -feeding and preserving it, and determined not to allow her eyes to -close, in order that she might devote herself to watching the slumbers -of her sister. - -Yet the night appeared so long, that she would have found it impossible -to resist her inclination to sleep, if she had not sought some more -active employment. Accustomed by her adventures in the Donat-Fortress to -long wanderings in caves and darkness, she resolved to beguile the -tedious hours with exploring the more retired depths of the rock, and -tracing to its source the water, whose distinct roar assured her, that -it could be at no great distance. The kindly warmth of the fire had -recruited her spirits and restored her strength in a great measure; and -she found herself able to undertake the task of wandering through the -frozen cavern, without being in danger of yielding to the cold. Midnight -was past, when guiding her course by the light of a blazing fire-brand -she drew near the thunders of the cataract, and her limbs trembled less -with cold, than with expectation of the sight which she was now on the -point of witnessing. Who can penetrate without emotion into the earth’s -interior sanctuary? who can presume to pry into Nature’s secret abodes, -where the great Mother brings forth those children of her strength the -mighty Floods, without feeling awe-struck by the bold and desperate -undertaking? - -The blazing fire-brand was here unnecessary. An opening in the cavern’s -roof gave free admittance to the moon-beams, and the whole extent was -brilliantly illuminated. Ida now beheld a spectacle, to which she -doubted whether the whole universe could produce a rival. From the -summit of a rock of ice, whose height the eye measured with difficulty, -and which was entirely formed of the river’s own frozen evaporations, -did the rapid torrent of the Aar precipitate the whole volume of its -waters headlong, till it reached an enormous mass of broken pieces of -rock, the probable accumulation of ages. Here it divided itself into -more than twenty lesser rivers, which sought their passage into the vale -below, in a variety of directions.—The scene was most splendid, but also -was most awful!—the moon-light made the foaming flood appear like a -torrent of liquid silver; which produced the most singular and fantastic -effects, as it rushed with rebellowing roar among the groupes of -colossal rocks around it, and interrupted with the glitter of its -streams, the deep gloom occasioned by their shadows, Ida looked up to -the awful height, whence the torrent descended, covering her with the -light sprinkling of its foam: she looked down into the fearful gulph, in -which its waters were buried: she looked upon the cavern’s glittering -walls, covered with incrustations of innumerable shapes and colours, and -upon the moving shadows, which fell from the surrounding gigantic rocks. -The sight was too much for her; she felt her head grow giddy; the -fire-brand dropt from her grasp, and she sank upon the ground almost -insensible. - -She soon recovered herself, and hastened to quit a scene, whose awful -beauties were more than she could bear in the weak and agitated state of -her nerves. She could discern the glimmerings of the distant fire, and -hastened back to the outward cavern; where she found Constantia still -buried in repose. The flame was now getting low, and more fuel was not -to be procured: but it had already warmed the cave sufficiently to -remove any apprehension, lest the sleeper should be frozen. Since -therefore her watching ceased to be necessary, Ida no longer resisted -the drowsiness, against which for some time past she had found it so -difficult to contend. Besides, through the opening of their -resting-place she could already discern the first faint reddening of the -approaching morn; she therefore laid herself down by Constantia’s side -with the pleasing reflection, that the cave would soon be warmed and -gladdened by the power of the sun; and that when her still-slumbering -sister should open her eyes, she would not behold those gloomy -appearances, which during that long sad night had produced upon herself -such deep and melancholy impressions. - -Ida had not long closed her weary eye-lids, before Constantia awoke -greatly refreshed. Unconscious of the manner in which her sister had -past the night, she lost no time in waking her, and advising the -prosecution of their journey. Ida was contented with her short repose, -and obeyed the summons. Yet before they quitted the hospitable cavern, -to whose shelter from the night-blast they undoubtedly were indebted for -life, Ida led her sister to the place, which had appeared to her so -awfully splendid when viewed at midnight; but which (she doubted not) -would produce a different impression than in those moments, when her -fortitude was completely subdued by anxiety of mind and lassitude of -body. - -The beams of the morning-sun now stained the waters of the Aar with -crimson light: its streams, as they precipitated themselves into the -vales beneath, glowed with a thousand beautiful colours. A shower of -diamonds seemed to fall from the summit of the ice-rock, and the clifts, -which during the night had thrown such deep and solemn shadows around -them, now were gaily arrayed in verdant moss and covered with such hardy -plants, as can endure cold without inconvenience, and which generally -fasten their roots in the fissures of stones and among the broken crags -of mountains. The sight was at once majestic and enlivening! the two -pilgrims sank upon their knees opposite to the newly-risen sun, and -poured out the sentiments of pious enthusiasm, with which they felt -their hearts overflow. Not complaints, not murmurs, not sighs proceeded -from the lips of these poor forlorn-ones: no; they exprest their delight -at this wonderful creation and their admiration of its Creator, though -at that moment they were themselves struggling against calamities so -desperate, as scarcely to afford them the remote possibility of a -rescue. Never perhaps was a nobler sacrifice offered up by suffering -humanity to the power and magnificence of the Supreme! - -Yet Ida’s sacrifice was the greatest, since Constantia possest a source -of satisfaction in her bosom, of which her sister was not yet aware. - -—“To-day,” said she, while her countenance was brightened with smiles, -at the same time detaining Ida, who (having finished her orisons,) was -on the point of turning from the cave; “to-day it is my turn to be the -guide through our doubtful journey. Ida, I dreamt last night, that we -were still wandering along the paths, which we traversed yesterday: -methought, that you went foremost, and bewildered yourself in a narrow -nook, where precipices on all sides impeded your further progress. I was -lamenting over your distress; when lo! on a sudden St. Engeltruda stood -before me, such as she is represented on the altar-piece in her Chapel -at Engelberg. A ray of golden light detached itself from the aureol, -which blazed round her head, and guided me to a small opening in a rock, -exactly resembling _that_, which caught my eye in the first moment of my -entering this cavern. I past through it: a narrow winding-way descended -gradually into the valley. Suddenly, as if it had been by some magic -spell, we were transported into those happy plains, where we past the -years of infancy, and which I shall never cease to regret our ever -leaving: there we became once more Mary and Rosanna Tell, and forgot in -the humble tranquillity of Rutelis the sorrows and sufferings of our -lofty hateful station.”— - -Ida gave way to the enthusiastic hopes of her sister, and followed her, -as with difficulty she forced her way through a narrow opening, which -she had discovered at no great distance from the torrent. After -springing boldly at the hazard of their lives over a few wide-yawning -chasms, they reached a kind of green plain, where it was possible for -them to proceed above a hundred yards without meeting any obstacle. A -circumstance so new in their painful journey inspired Constantia with -added confidence. She turned smiling to her sister, and pointed out two -small white butterflies, who were sporting in the sunshine, and which -(she was firmly persuaded) were the very same, whom she had seen sinking -exhausted to the ground on the day before. - -—“Yesterday,” said she with exultation, “yesterday they were the emblems -of our distress; to-day they are the prophets of our speedy rescue. See, -see! a favourable western gale wafts them kindly to the lower vallies, -where they may flutter through fields of flowers, and forget how much -they suffered from the frost, while they bask in the bright and cheering -sunshine.”— - -Her long undisturbed night’s rest, and her confidence in the protection -of her Patron-Saint had greatly improved Constantia’s spirits: Ida’s on -the contrary were much more deprest than at the beginning of their -journey. They soon reached the termination of their easy road; and as -fresh obstacles seemed again to impede their progress with every step, -Ida asserted, that the difficulties, which they found in their present -path were sufficient to prove, that they had judged ill in altering -their direction. It was in vain, that Constantia attempted to -demonstrate, that the course, which she so much regretted, would have -led them into the most remote recesses of the Grimsel-Mountain, which -towered above them on the _one_ side; or that she pointed out the -Tempest-horn, which rose on the other like some threatening giant, and -on whose ice-covered limbs no path was discernable, which could possibly -have been trodden by any mortal feet. - -A narrow passage between two almost joining rocks guided them to the -mountain of Gemmi: and now they perceived with joy, that instead of -being one unvaried acclivity, their road every now and then suffered -them to descend. It’s true, this road seemed rather calculated for the -clambering of goats, than for the use of human beings: but though it was -frequently interrupted by extensive chasms, they frequently found -themselves assisted in passing them by broad planks, already laid over -them by some friendly hand. Where there were none, and the Sisters were -obliged to traverse the abyss with extreme hazard on some narrow shelf -by clinging to the broken crags, still Constantia never would proceed, -till she had discovered either an unemployed plank, which she brought -from some other place, or the shattered branch of some wild fig-tree; in -order that she might stretch it across the chasm, and enable any future -wanderer to cross it with less trouble and risque. She also (as they -proceeded onwards) began to relate a wonderful legend, which had been -told her by one of the nuns of Zurich, explaining, why of all these -mountains that of Gemmi alone was observed never to be whitened with -snow or ice. But Ida was too much out of heart, and too fearful of their -being engaged in a wrong direction, to permit herself to pay much -attention to the legend; and as _she_ did not think it worth notice, -there can be no sort of occasion for my repeating it here. - -From a rock, whose height made their heads giddy, they had ventured at -mid-day to cast their eyes down into the regions beneath them, and which -the sinking heart of Ida now made her despair of ever reaching. They -could perceive from hence several dark spots, which Ida pronounced to be -abysses, in which their path would at length terminate: and this -decision she delivered with such positiveness, that Constantia would -undoubtedly have consented to return, or else have chosen a different -path, had either a return been now practicable, or another path been to -be found. But as the day advanced, and the road still continued to sink -itself lower and lower, with what rapture did they ascertain, that these -supposed abysses in fact were parts of a village; whose smoking chimnies -announced to them the neighbourhood of domestic comforts, and to whose -peaceable shelter the cattle were at that moment returning from pasture. - -The quick-sighted Ida was the first to make this discovery. She sank -weeping upon the bosom of her sister, and entreated her to forgive the -wayward humour, with which she had embittered their journey. Constantia -folded the suppliant to her heart, and the Sisters united in offering up -a prayer of fervent gratitude to the Saint, who had guided their -wanderings so wonderfully and so well. - -They resumed their journey, and now how easy did it seem to them! As -they descended, the path gradually enlarged itself; and before the -shutting in of night they found themselves safe under one of the -cottage-roofs, where they learned for the first time after a long, long -interval, what it was to rest without anxiety: in truth the short and -broken slumbers, which visited them in the robber-valley, were scarcely -worthy of being called by the sweet name of rest. - -While the Damsels of Werdenberg were engaged in the above adventures; -while one of them was anxiously and vainly expected at the Convent of -Zurich, and while the other was most unjustly censured and despised for -her supposed elopement with the acknowledged bridegroom of her friend; -Count Henry of Montfort was eagerly pursuing the wrong track, into which -he had been enticed by the perfidious chaplain of Castle-March. -Persuaded that he should soon overtake Ida, he continued to rush -forwards without allowing himself to rest for a moment; till in a little -village belonging to the Canton of Glarus he was attacked by a severe -fever, produced by the violence of his mental agitation, and by the -inconsiderate speed, with which his journey had been performed. Nature -at length yielded, and Henry was compelled to stop, and make his option -either of recovering slowly, or of dying at once. - -According to the established custom of all knight errants, he had -commenced his expedition, not merely without forming a plan or -consulting common sense, but without furnishing himself with a necessary -supply of cash. He had left all his attendants far behind him; and as -several days had elapsed since his separation from them, and as he had -not thought proper to inform them of the object of his journey, they -were totally unable to form even a guess as to the place, where it would -be most likely for them to rejoin their master. Luckily for Henry, in -the paroxysms of his fever he frequently pronounced the name of -Montfort. From this the good simple people of the village (who in truth -had rendered him all the assistance, which their sorry means could -allow) concluded, that the invalid must certainly belong to the old -Count of Montfort. A messenger was dispatched to verify the fact: and -Count Egbert lost no time in sending able physicians to his nephew’s -aid, by whose care the fever was at length vanquished. As soon as the -step could be taken without endangering his life, the Convalescent was -removed to his paternal mansion, where he saw nothing but frowning -countenances, and heard nothing from morning till night, except -reproaches for his extraordinary conduct on his bridal day with -Elizabeth. It seems, that Count Egbert now thought himself entitled to -assume a higher tone of authority with his nephew, since the news was -just arrived, that Henry’s firm friend and powerful patron, the Emperor, -was no more. He perished, in consequence of a malady which he contracted -during an expedition against the Turks, and was no longer able to -vindicate and enforce the claims of his favourite. - -—“You cannot but acknowledge,” said the old Count one day to his pale -and still emaciated nephew, “that I have done every thing in my power to -establish your happiness on a firm basis. Elizabeth of March, young, -lovely, wise, powerful, and (above all!) enormously rich, would have -been your own at this moment, if you had not thought proper to abandon -her for the laudable purpose of scampering away after a -will-o’-the-wisp!—But now the business is over! No regrets can now put -matters to rights again! Elizabeth is Countess of Torrenburg, is lost to -you for ever, and what counsel to give you now, I protest, I know -not!—Truly, your affairs are in a wretched condition: your claims on my -succession cannot avail you till after my decease; and even then, they -stand a fair chance of being worth but little, since I am now seriously -thinking of contracting a matrimonial engagement: though you thought -proper to break off my former match by running away with my intended -bride, the light and wanton Ida!”— - -Here Henry assured him for the twentieth time, that he had not beheld -Ida since the bridal day at the Castle of March; and his uncle for the -twentieth time replied, by assuring Henry, that in that case it was very -extraordinary, that nobody else should know any thing at all about her. -However, whether she had gone off with Henry or with any other person, -for his own part he was determined, that anxiety about her should never -turn one more hair of his head grey; but that he would marry the first -woman of a decent family, whom luck or accident should throw into his -way. - -In the course of his reproaches the old Count had mentioned Elizabeth’s -marriage: this was a fact. Within a few days after Ida’s disappearance, -Elizabeth became Countess of Torrenburg. It has already been mentioned, -that Count Frederick set forward for the Castle of March, in all the -pomp of a bridegroom, to renew his addresses, fortified by an -encouraging vision of his patron-saint, and assisted by the prayers of -the worthy Father Hilarius. On the other hand, the house-priest of March -had managed to screw the indignation of Elizabeth and her relations to -the highest pitch against the fugitive Montfort and the Heiresses of -Sargans; and the lady’s parents were proportionably penitent for the -ill-judged rejection of Count Frederick’s addresses. Finding his -mistress and her friends in a temper of mind so favourable to his -wishes, the superannuated lover needed only to make his proposals, in -order to have them accepted. But little discussion was necessary; all -parties were soon of the same mind, and Elizabeth in a few days entered -the Castle of Torrenburg as its mistress. From that hour her every word, -her every action was such, as proved her to be worthy of the high -station, in which she was placed by the choice of this excellent -nobleman; against whom no possible objection could be suggested, except -that he was old enough to be the grand-father of his blooming wife. But -to Elizabeth’s disappointed heart his age was rather a recommendation -than an objection. After Montfort’s perfidy she felt it impossible for -her ever to love another man as her husband; but she loved Count -Frederick as her father; she esteemed and reverenced him, nor from her -conduct towards him would any one have supposed, that her happy husband -was not still in possession of all the advantages and charms of youth. -All affection for the ungrateful Henry seemed extinguished in her bosom, -and the good old Count enjoyed with her a much greater share of -happiness, than he had any reason to expect would have been the case. -Nor was her behaviour towards her husband alone praiseworthy: she -conducted herself on all occasions with so much discretion, and -displayed throughout such winning graces and enlarged benevolence, that -she became the object of universal respect, and was proposed as a model -to be admired and imitated by all the daughters of Helvetia. - -In one point alone her prudence was in default. There was an individual -in the Castle of Torrenburg, whose influence with her husband was -omnipotent; but for whom she felt an aversion so insurmountable, that -scarcely could she endure him in her presence; and whom she was rash -enough to endeavour at removing, before she had examined whether her -strength was equal to the undertaking, and whether this offence offered -to the antient household gods, might not draw down some heavy punishment -upon her own unsuspecting head. - -This detested and persecuted object of Elizabeth’s efforts was no other, -than the keeper of all the consciences in the Castle of Torrenburg, was -no other than the devout Father Hilarius! She was not aware, that it was -to him and his saints, that she was chiefly indebted for the illustrious -title which she bore, and the splendid station which she occupied. -Perhaps, even had she been conscious of her obligation, she would have -but little approved of the crooked paths, by which the Friar had -contrived to conduct her to her elevated situation. - -In fulfilment of his vow, Count Frederick had recompensed the -patron-saints of his two clerical allies most liberally for the -possession of his adored Elizabeth. The chaplain of Castle-March (whose -only capital fault was avarice) was well contented with the reward of -his exertions: not so was Hilarius! He had formed far greater plans, and -indulged more glorious expectations. He had made no sort of doubt, that -he should gain no less a share of the wife’s confidence, than he already -possest of the husband’s. Instead of this, he obtained from her nothing -but aversion and contempt; and from the moment of his being convinced, -that such were her sentiments towards him, fury took entire possession -of his misanthropic heart, and he brooded day and night over plans of -swift-coming vengeance. - -His disappointment in the present was greatly embittered by his -foreseeing the failure of all those hopes, which he had long grounded -upon the future. Much time had not elapsed since his marriage, when the -superannuated Frederick communicated to the chaplain in confidence -certain dispositions of his estates after his death, which could not -fail to be highly disagreeable to the avaricious Monk. Every day more -fascinated by the perfections of his beautiful wife, the Count tortured -himself to discover some means, by which he might express in the most -striking manner his gratitude to her, whose attentions shed a gleam of -such bright sunshine over the evening of his closing life. He secretly -bequeathed to her every thing, which it was possible for him to give, -without entirely laying aside all justice to the young Countesses of -Werdenberg: since much as he held himself insulted by their late -conduct, still he was too generous to deprive them of any thing, to -which the name which they bore could enable them to advance the claims -of justice. - -His confessor was initiated into all these mysteries. Scarcely while he -listened to them, could Hilarius restrain his rage within the bounds of -decency. He saw all the fond hopes, which he had built upon Frederick’s -want of heirs and attachment to the church and its servants, destroyed -at one blow; and he gnashed his teeth for spite to think, that it was -out of his power to prevent the Count’s benevolent intentions towards -his wife from being carried into immediate and complete effect. - -As for Elizabeth, she was entirely ignorant of those weighty proofs of -his affection, which Count Frederick designed for her after his decease. -She was equally ignorant of the spite and envy, which this large bequest -had excited against her in one of the most malignant of human hearts. -She continued to proceed in her straight-forward benevolent course -without turning to the right or to the left: she treated her decrepit -husband with unabated kindness and attention unwearied; and she denied -herself no opportunity of convincing Hilarius, that he was the object of -her fixed aversion, and that she was decidedly bent on procuring sooner -or later his expulsion from the Castle of Torrenburg. - -Oh! that she had carried that design into execution before one of the -basest attempts, that ever was plotted by a villain’s brain, was ripe -enough for action! Yet perhaps the will of Heaven ordained, that this -plan should be suffered to ripen, in order that it might effect the -overthrow of its guilty author, and exhibit the merits of the noble lady -of the Castle in the fullest blaze of all their purity and lustre! - -Oh! generous Elizabeth! you for whom I write, and for whom I trust, that -I have not written in vain! Is it permitted me to relate your own -glorious actions to yourself? Yet why do I hesitate?—She, who (I doubt -not) while perusing these leaves has not hesitated to bestow many a tear -of compassion on the undeserved sorrows, many a tribute of admiration on -the heroic patience, many an expression of delight and gratitude at the -fortunate escape, of those whom she calls—“_her enemies_,”—surely _she_ -need not avert her eyes, while my faithful hand places her before the -glass, in which she may behold the reflection of her own excellence! She -knows well, that I am no flatterer. I have not concealed from her, that -she is proud, rash, not disinclined to resentment for injuries, and -obstinate in adhering to her determinations, however inconsiderately -those determinations may have been formed. But neither will I conceal, -that I know her to be generous, benevolent, courageous, resolute, -disinterested; an avowed enemy of vice, however fascinating be the shape -which it assumes; an enthusiastic adorer of virtue, however humble be -the station which it occupies, however lowly be the habit which it -wears. Such is the faint portrait of her, whom future historians will -paint in far more brilliant colours; such is the portrait of Elizabeth -of Torrenburg! - -Hilarius had long been secretly connected with a society of -mountaineers, who (by means of the private entrance to the -Donat-Fortress) might be reckoned the Count’s nearest neighbours. The -precise nature of this union between the Monk and the Banditti belongs -to the secret history of these miscreants, in which we are not -sufficiently well instructed to authorize our giving any account of it -in these memoirs. Let it suffice, that the union was a very close one; -perhaps, it was a long-established custom for the robbers to connect -themselves with some ecclesiastic, in memory of the original founder of -their society, the celebrated Abbot Luprian. Alas! it is a very painful -task for me, myself an ecclesiastic, the successor of that Abbot -Luprian, the cotemporary of this Monk Hilarius, to point out the stains, -with which the vices of individuals have polluted the sacred habit!—Yet -it is essential, that the whole truth should be laid before Elizabeth’s -eyes, and I will not hesitate to perform my duty to the full. - -The avarice of Hilarius was insatiable. The custody of that deserted -quarter of the Count’s residence, which was now only known by the name -of the Donat-Fortress, was intrusted to him; nothing could be more -convenient for the robbers than such a retreat, where they could either -take refuge, when the pursuit after them was too hot to admit of their -venturing back to their valley; or where they could remain concealed and -unsuspected of being in the neighbourhood, till the precise moment -should arrive for executing their plans of devastation with the most -complete success. Accordingly, no sum appeared to them to counterbalance -the value of such a refuge; and Hilarius annually received an immense -tribute for allowing them the use of the subterraneous passage, and also -of such of the apartments of the Donat-Fortress, as were best adapted to -their purposes and profession. Here they had a well-appointed armoury; -here they deposited their prey, till circumstances admitted of its -removal to the valley; and here (among many other precautions for their -safety) they had not neglected to lay in a large stock of provisions, -and above all several hogsheads of the best old Rhenish wine. - -But though they did not neglect any occasion of increasing their wealth -by the plunder of passengers and of the country at large, still there -was one vast undertaking, which lay most at the hearts of _the Warriors -of the Mountains_; for that was the title, by which the free-booters -preferred being distinguished.—Of this undertaking Hilarius was the -original suggestor, and without his aid they were well aware, that it -never could be carried into execution. The object of it was nothing -less, than to put the Warriors of the Mountains in possession of the -whole domains of the Count of Torrenburg, with the exception of such -parts as his pious enthusiasm should have induced him to bequeath to the -Convent, of which Hilarius was a worthy member. The plans were so well -arranged, that nothing could seem more improbable than a failure: -nothing indeed prevented their having been already carried into -execution except the immoderate price, which Hilarius demanded in -recompense of his services. - -Matters, however, were so nearly concluded between the contracting -parties, that Hilarius had occasionally introduced some of the principal -robbers into the Castle in various disguises, in order that they might -become thoroughly acquainted with the nature of the place, which they -were to attack; might spy out the weaker parts of its defences; and by -being aware of the obstacles to their designs, might be prepared to -overcome them. Confiding in the terrific tales respecting the ghosts, -which haunted it, he had even ventured frequently to give his allies -midnight entertainments in the deserted chambers of the Donat-Fortress. -The superstitious domestics shook with terror, as they saw gleams of -light streaming through the worm-eaten casements, and doubted not, that -the ghosts of the antient tyrants of Carlsheim and Sargans had invited -all the other infernal spirits to a feast in their former earthly -residence. In this manner had the Count’s enemies frequently been within -a few hundred yards of him unsuspected; while he (good man) was -dreaming, that his barred portals and lifted draw-bridge secured him -against any possible attack. - -Yet his good fortune so ordained it, that the striking this important -blow, was still delayed from time to time: Hilarius too was of opinion, -that the fittest time for making the long-meditated attack would be -immediately after the Count’s decease, when the want of lineal heirs -must necessarily produce much confusion among the numerous claimants, -and when in all probability the Castle’s inhabitants would be found -entirely off their guard. The impatient robbers were by no means -satisfied with this opinion: they were for making the attempt -immediately; but unless they could convince Hilarius, their opposition -availed them nothing. He consented to their taking possession of the -Donat-Fortress; but he took care to keep it well locked and bolted, so -that the supposed spectres could not by any means invade the inhabited -part of the Castle, till it should be his own good will and pleasure to -admit them. - -It was at this period, that the Countesses of Werdenberg were -acknowledged by Count Frederick, and were immediately considered by the -Monk as obstacles to his designs. Looking upon Constantia as destined to -the veil, his whole undivided hatred was monopolized by Ida; and he -never rested, till he had ruined her in her uncle’s good opinion, nay -(by means of her mysterious flight) in the good opinion of the world. I -have already related, in what manner he delivered her into the power of -the robbers; who gratified him doubly, first by relieving him from a -person whose absence he wished, and whose blood he was not quite villain -enough to shed with his own hands, and secondly by rewarding him for the -possession of so lovely a girl with a considerable sum of money. - -As to what became afterwards of the unhappy Ida, that was a matter of -little interest to Father Hilarius: but it would have been a matter of -very _great_ interest, if he had guest Randolf’s intention of giving -himself a legal claim to the inheritance of Sargans by the possession of -her hand, and of reinstating the detested Ida hereafter in those rights, -of which the Monk had taken so much trouble to deprive her. - -The daily presents, which Frederick’s generosity bestowed on his -spiritual guide, made the latter by no means anxious to see the moment -of his patron’s dissolution. He had forwarded to the utmost of his power -Elizabeth’s marriage, not only on account of the advantages promised -both to himself and his Convent by the superannuated lover, whenever -this union should be accomplished, but also from being persuaded, that -the affectionate care of such a wife would be giving the Count a new -lease for many years of existence. - -But when the Monk perceived Elizabeth’s decided aversion to himself, and -that her remonstrances had already produced a degree of coolness in her -husband towards both his person and his counsels, he found it necessary -to hasten the execution of his plans. The venom of spite and vengeance, -which had so long been working in his heart, at length overflowed; the -glimmering sparks of treason broke into flames; his intercourse with the -Warriors of the Mountain grew more close than ever; and the peaceable -inhabitants of the Castle were almost terrified out of their senses at -the frequent feasts given by the ghosts of the antient Lords of Sargans. - -The reports relative to the goblins of the Donat-Fortress at length -reached Elizabeth. She had the rashness on one of these terrific nights, -when all the other inmates of the Castle went about obstinately with -their eyes and ears shut, as obstinately to keep hers wide open. -Unattended, she ventured to approach the deserted chambers; and the -sounds which reached her, as she stood without, convinced her, that if -they really proceeded from spirits, those spirits must needs have -retained a considerable portion of their former earthly habits. - -Not the most distant suspicion of what really was the occasion of this -uproar, was likely to suggest itself to her mind. She only concluded, -and very naturally, that the belief in apparitions served some of her -domestics as a cloak to hide their midnight and dissolute entertainments -from the knowledge of their superiors. This was a practice, to which as -mistress of the family she thought it absolutely necessary to put an -immediate stop. Accordingly, without loss of time she informed her -husband of what she had observed, and of what she supposed to be the -fact: the household was immediately summoned, and ordered to attend -their Lord and Lady to the haunted chambers, which they were determined -to examine without a moment’s delay. - -But the uninvited guests were already aware of their approach. One of -Elizabeth’s women was in the confidence of the Monk, and hastened to -warn him by a signal previously agreed upon, that danger was at hand. -Hilarius immediately insisted, that the lights should be extinguished, -and that the Banditti should retire with all speed through the secret -passage, which (he asserted) would be the most spirit-like way of taking -their departure. But the robbers, who were heated with wine, declared, -that it was high time for them to lay aside the characters of spirits, -and that they never should find a more prosperous moment for making -their long-meditated attack, than the present. The continual -postponement of this attack had long made them suspect their ally of -playing them false, and they had prepared themselves for taking the -power out of his hands with the very first favourable opportunity—the -caverns below were filled with Banditti: those who were in the fortress -were no inconsiderable number; and confident of a fresh supply of troops -if necessary, they rushed forwards to meet the Lord of the Castle, -without deigning to summon to their assistance their friends in the -cavern. Indeed, they looked upon victory not only as certain, but easy, -when their only antagonists were terrified domestics, headed by no -better generals than an inexperienced female, and a gray-headed man just -escaped from the bed of sickness, and weighed down by the number of his -years. Accordingly, without listening to the Monk’s remonstrances, they -rushed towards the great portal; and Elizabeth with her followers no -sooner entered the court, in which the Donat-Fortress was situated, than -to their utter surprize they found themselves attacked on all sides. - -How lively were the colours, in which the enraptured Frederick described -to me this the most glorious transaction of Elizabeth’s life!—with what -enthusiasm did _he_ relate, with what enthusiasm did _I_ hear, how in -this moment of consternation Elizabeth alone preserved her presence of -mind and the look of undaunted resolution; how, when her terrified -attendants recoiled at the approach of the supposed spectres, she showed -them the sword, which gleamed in the weak hands of their aged master, -urged them to defend a life so precious, and shamed them by reproaches -into following his example; how she wrested from the hand of a beardless -robber the weapon, which he already pointed against her husband’s heart, -and instantly buried it in the assassin’s own; how when the weak old -Frederick was at length struck to the earth, she threw herself before -him, and made her breast his shield; and how while occupied in this -generous office, and while thus devoting her own life in order to -preserve his, she received a wound upon her brow, whose scar now forms -the noblest ornament of the most lovely face in all Helvetia! - -Frederick was wounded, and his attendants conveyed him away from the -scene of action; but Elizabeth still maintained her post, directing by -her advice, and invigorating by her presence the small but faithful body -of her retainers. The Banditti found by this time, that victory was not -to be so easily gained, as they had hitherto expected; and they thought -it prudent to summon to their assistance the lurkers in the -subterraneous caverns. Elizabeth perceived, that the numbers of the -assailants was suddenly and alarmingly increased. Every moment seemed to -add to their strength, and it was evident, that unless some means of -preventing the foe from profiting by this new accession of power could -be discovered, every thing was lost. Fortunately, in this critical -moment the eye of the Heroine rested upon the portcullis, which on -account both of its weight and workmanship was esteemed a master-piece -of art. She sprang forwards; she still grasped the sword, of which she -had deprived the robber, and with a single blow she severed the -sustaining cord. It fell with a heavy crash, and destroyed in its -descent several of the new-comers, who were over-hasty in flying to the -assistance of their hardly-pressed companions. - -—“Courage, my friends!” exclaimed Elizabeth with a sudden burst of joy; -“resist your enemies but for a few minutes longer, and we are safe! -hark, how the alarm-bells make the air resound! and see! the -castle-portals are thrown open! rejoice! rejoice! our preservers are at -hand!”— - -It had been one of the Countess’s first orders, that the alarm-bells -should be sounded without delay, and as soon as any signs were observed -of obedience to the signal for assistance, that the Warder should set -wide the gates for the reception of those, who might hasten to their -relief. She was obeyed; but no one expected, that these precautions -would bring them any more powerful succour than the presence of a few -bands of peasants, armed in haste, and unaccustomed to such midnight -attacks; or else perhaps the troops of some of the neighbouring -noblemen, but who were all at too great a distance to admit of their -reaching the Castle of Torrenburg, before the business should have been -finally decided. - -But Elizabeth, when she gave these orders, was better aware of their -importance. The terrible event, which I have just been describing, took -place on the night preceding St. Martin’s festival. St. Martin’s day was -also the birth-day of the Count of Torrenburg; a day, which Elizabeth -now celebrated for the first time, since she became a wife, and which -she was determined to distinguish by a most splendid entertainment. For -many weeks had her messengers been employed in traversing the -neighbouring provinces, for the purpose of inviting the most -distinguished noblemen and their families to be present at a tournament, -to be held at the Castle of Torrenburg in honour of the nativity of its -Lord. Count Frederick, though he was now too much enfeebled by age to -admit of his taking a part in them himself, still delighted in -witnessing such martial sports: they recalled to him many a pleasing and -many a glorious occurrence of his honourable life; and Elizabeth had not -failed to select for his amusement on his birth-day that particular -species, which, her own observation and the experience of others had -given her reason to know, would be most acceptable to her husband. - -It was on this very night, that the invited guests were expected at the -Castle, accompanied by their wives and daughters with a numerous -retinue. It had been settled, that they should not arrive till after -midnight, in order that their being in the Castle might continue unknown -to the Count till the next morning; when it was Elizabeth’s design to -conduct him (still ignorant of what was going to take place) to the -prepared lists, where he would unexpectedly find himself seated in the -circle of his best friends and well-wishers, in order to witness that -kind of entertainment, in which he most peculiarly delighted. All her -preparations had been made with the greatest secrecy; none but a few of -her most immediate friends and domestics were in her confidence; and -therefore few except herself were aware, that the alarm-bells were -sounded for the purpose of calling to her assistance those expected -guests, who (she was certain from the lateness of the hour) must needs -be at no great distance. - -Her hopes were soon verified. The draw-bridge had scarcely fallen, when -it re-echoed under the hasty trampling of horses’-hoofs. The court-yard -was soon filled with soldiers, who without staying to demand what was -the matter, hastened with drawn swords to assist the Countess and her -faithful supporters. Elizabeth was a heroine in the moment of need; but -her heart was still that of a weak and tender female. She was anxious to -rejoin her bleeding husband; her wound was painful; and still more -painful to her feelings was the sight of the blood, which streamed -around her, and of the mangled corses with which the pavement was -strewed. Most joyful was she, when she found herself at liberty to -resign her dangerous and hateful post; her friend of youth, Richard of -Ulmenhorst, and Count Oswald of March (her brother) took the command of -her forces; and she now flew to the chamber of that husband, who but a -few minutes before had been indebted to her for his life. She found, -that his wound (it was but a slight one) was already drest; and that he -was earnestly insisting, that his attendants should lead him to rejoin -his glorious wife, and suffer him either to conquer by her side, or -perish with that dear one: they sank into each other’s arms, and melted -into tears of joy at finding themselves once more in safety. Seldom have -youthful lovers, even in their happiest moments, felt such unmixed -pleasure, as was now felt by Elizabeth, while she clasped the decrepit -Frederick to her heart. - -Before day-break the victory was complete. The knights, who had been -invited to a mock-fight, and had found one so serious, did not leave -their work only half finished—the portcullis was raised again; every -corner of the Donat-Fortress was investigated: the entrance to the -subterraneous vaults was found open and unguarded, and these also -underwent an examination. Here a considerable number of the free-booters -were discovered, and after an obstinate resistance slaughtered; but a -few of them found means to effect their escape from the caverns, and -carried the news of this disaster to their associates in the valley of -Halsberg. - -Gero was one of the first, who fell in the assault; Randolf was taken -prisoner: as to the author of all this mischief, the infamous Hilarius, -he was found to all appearance lifeless in one of the caverns, whither -he had retreated during the heat of the combat. He had suffered so -severely both in the conflict, and from the pressure of those, who (like -himself) crowded to take refuge in the secret vaults, that though life -was not quite extinct in him, he expired, before he had time to -acknowledge his numerous transgressions, and receive their absolution. -My knowledge of his private transactions and views was gleaned from the -writings, which were afterwards found in his chamber, and in his cell at -the Convent, of which he was so unworthy a member. These papers were -confided to me by the Bishop of Coira; and their contents were such as -rendered them highly improper to meet the eyes of the laity; who are -already but too apt to scoff, when a church-man slips, and from whom the -servants of Religion ought carefully to veil the errors of her unsteady -children.—But the love of truth, the interests of justice, and the -welfare of two poor persecuted creatures, made it necessary for me to -place everything in the clearest light before the eyes of her, who (I am -certain) needs only to be convinced, that they are _really_ persecuted, -in order to become their most strenuous defender. - -So entirely had their evil star the ascendant, that even this overthrow -of their enemies only served to make the Sisters appear in the eyes of -the world in a still more odious point of view. Hilarius died without -having time to acknowledge the pains, which he had taken to effect Ida’s -ruin: it was not till lately, that I obtained the certainty of the -Monk’s perfidy, and of the innocence of my poor wards; facts appeared so -strong against her, that even I for a considerable time was compelled to -give up the fruitless office of defending her; and the proofs, which -spoke so loudly in her disfavour, seemed to increase in number with -every fresh occurrence. Several of the robbers had been made prisoners, -and underwent a close examination respecting the authors of their -enterprize and its object. Among other things, they confest, that a -damsel, understood to be a Countess of Werdenberg, had made a long abode -in their society; that she was evidently the object of their captain’s -affection; and that it was reported among the Banditti, that she had -consented to become his wife, on condition of his establishing her -claims to the domains of Sargans and Carlsheim by force of arms. -Randolf, being questioned respecting these assertions, in a great -measure confirmed them; he only denied, that Ida had ever given her -consent in express words to the enterprize; but he profest his firm -belief, that on those conditions he had every reason to believe her -disposed to unite her fate with his. He had dropped such plain hints of -his designs against the Count, that she could not possibly have -misunderstood him, though her discretion made her prefer the appearing -ignorant of a scheme, whose object was the ruin of her former -benefactor: but as she must have gathered his intention from various -circumstances, and as she continued to treat him, not merely with -unabated, but even with increased complaisance, he had certainly good -reason to suppose, that his meditated plan was by no means disagreeable -to her.—Alas! poor Ida! had she dared to abate that complaisance, and to -express the sentiments of abhorrence, with which the robber’s views -inspired her, what would have been her reward?—ill usage; death perhaps; -or what would have been still worse, life with the loss of honour! - -But these reflections did not occur to Randolf or his hearers; they -believed his arguments to be well founded, and that Ida had approved of -the design, which had so nearly terminated her benefactor’s existence. -That she had been privy to it, is true: she had not misunderstood -Randolf’s hints, though she was not aware of the exact nature of his -intentions; but no sooner was she in safety, than her first object was -to provide for that of the Count of Torrenburg. - -The village, which at length afforded them security and rest, was called -Edel-Bothen: here they were compelled to pass the night and the -succeeding morning, in order to recover from the fatigues of their late -painful journey; and it was from hence, that a messenger was dispatched -to the Castle of Torrenburg with a letter, written by Constantia in a -disguised hand and without a signature. Ida, who still trembled at the -thoughts of being either compelled to give her hand to the old Count of -Montfort, or to seclude herself for life within the dreary walls of a -cloister, was unwilling to let her incensed uncle know, where she might -be found; and Constantia, though she had herself no motive for -concealment, was afraid of being the means of discovering her sister. -With much difficulty, and after many unsuccessful attempts, the -following lines were at length completed, and a peasant was dispatched -with them to the Castle of Torrenburg. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - _Count of Torrenburg!_ - -Peruse these lines from an unknown but sincere friend, who trembles, -lest the warning should come too late. In your domestic priest, the -worthless Hilarius, you nourish a traitor, whose plans if successful -will terminate in your destruction. He has already driven many innocent -persons into the jaws of ruin: and now to finish his career with a -master stroke of villainy, he meditates the overthrow of his generous -benefactor. Secure him, and let him and his papers undergo a strict -examination. Above all, set a watch over the Donat-Fortress, and let the -private entrance be carefully closed up, which you will find on the left -hand of the window in the large chamber, which terminates the southern -wing of the ruins. That entrance communicates with a subterraneous -passage, well known to the robbers, who have so long been the terror of -Helvetia, and with whom Hilarius carries on the most intimate -correspondence. Hasten then to prevent their making any ill use of their -knowledge of this communication; and if this warning should be in time -to save you from danger, the writers of this letter will thank Heaven as -for a benefit conferred upon themselves. - - * * * * * - -This well-meant epistle did not reach the Castle of Torrenburg till -several days after St. Martin’s day. It was read aloud at the Count’s -table, when the hall was almost filled with knights and ladies, who were -assembled there on account of the festivities, with which Elizabeth -thought it right to celebrate her Lord’s escape from the perilous -Banditti. The letter, while reading, was frequently interrupted by loud -bursts of scornful laughter and expressions of derision from the whole -assembly; yet ’tis said, that Frederick and Elizabeth did not laugh, and -were quite silent. It was easily guest, from whom this unavailing -warning came; and Count Oswald of March, (whose family pride had been -stung to the quick by young Montfort’s conduct on the bridal day, and -whose affection for his sister made him the inveterate enemy of any one, -who offered her any injury or unkindness) insisted upon being allowed to -answer the letter. - -According to her instructions, Ida’s messenger had no sooner delivered -the letter, than he hastened away from the Castle: but two horsemen were -dispatched after him in all haste, and the peasant was compelled to -return for an answer. That answer pained the Sisters to the very heart; -they preserved it carefully; they read it over and over again, and every -time with fresh pain; and they at length showed it to me, as a proof of -their total renunciation by their uncle. Count Oswald had written as -follows. - - * * * * * - -The fair Ida’s well-conceived letter arrived at the very time, which she -intended; that is, when it was too late to be of any use. First to -invent schemes of treachery, and then when they fail, to assume the part -of a warning friend against those very schemes, was certainly one of the -most dexterous artifices, that ever was produced by female ingenuity! -Unfortunately, there are some people, who are not deceived even by -artifices so dexterous. The Count of Torrenburg has been rescued from -the Banditti, not by the fair Ida’s warning _after_ the event had taken -place, but by the courage and affection of an angel, whose name was once -Elizabeth of March; whose name would have been Elizabeth of Montfort, -had it not been for the fair Ida’s coquetry; and whose name is now -Elizabeth of Torrenburg, in spite of all the pains, which the fair Ida -gave herself to prevent her ever bearing that illustrious title. Yes! -Elizabeth is Countess of Torrenburg: I protest, I cannot but pity the -poor damsel Ida for so severe a disappointment, as this union must give -to her views upon Count Frederick’s inheritance. Besides the loss of her -benefactor’s good opinion, she has also to regret that of her lover the -robber Randolf, who inhabits one of the Count’s dungeons; so that all -her hopes in that quarter are completely annihilated. It seems too, that -she has not even contrived to secure the light and worthless heart of -Henry of Montfort, who (probably grown already weary of her) has -returned to his uncle’s residence; as report says, a sincere penitent -for having suffered himself to lose such a treasure as the hand and -heart of Elizabeth through the artifices of a perfidious coquette. -Probably by this time the fair Ida has found out, that this maxim -contains more truth than she supposed; viz. “that crooked paths lead to -precipices.” - -Randolf, the fair Ida’s lover, is a prisoner; Henry of Montfort, the -fair Ida’s dupe, has recovered his senses; Gero and Hilarius, the fair -Ida’s friends, are both dead; and Count Frederick, the fair Ida’s -intended victim, is aware, that Hilarius is not the only snake, whom he -has warmed in his bosom. - -Count Frederick of Torrenburg sends the fair Ida his best wishes for her -speedy repentance, and ventures to suggest, that a convent will be in -future her fittest residence.—He begs however, that this may only be -considered as his _advice_; since looking upon her no longer as his -relation, he has no longer any right to give her a command. At all -events, he begs, that whether she takes that advice or not, she will not -think it necessary to inform him of her proceedings, since he has now -but one wish on earth respecting her; to hear of her no more! - - * * * * * - -Ida’s tears streamed plentifully, while she read these cutting lines. -She gave the letter in silence to Constantia, who felt the unmerited -reproaches no less acutely than her sister. A long pause ensued, which -at length was broken by Constantia. - -—“There is no mention made of _me_!” said she,—“no more, than if I were -no longer in existence!—Well! well! it is better to be quite forgotten, -than to be so remembered!”— - -—“How could they guess,” exclaimed Ida, “that _I_ was the writer of that -letter?—a letter, which He, who sees the heart, can witness for me, I -wrote out of pure good will to my unkind uncle.”— - -—“And how strange,” rejoined Constantia, “that they should misunderstand -your character so completely, as to believe you capable of such perfidy! -And how cruel of them to insult your misfortunes by such an unfeeling -taunting letter!”— - -With such inquiries did they torture themselves during a whole tedious -day; and they endeavoured in vain to discover, what part of Ida’s -conduct could have authorised a man, who had once shown her so much -benevolence, to view her on a sudden in a light so perfectly odious. It -appeared too from this letter, that Count Frederick’s ill opinion of her -was also the opinion of the world; and what had she done to deserve this -universal ill opinion?—The Sisters were not aware, that a prejudice once -conceived gains strength with every minute, and presses into its -services the most insignificant occurrences: till the supposed offence -from a molehill is swelled into a mountain, and shade added to shade -gradually makes the detested object appear in colours sufficiently -black, to _justify_ its being made the object of detestation. - -No mention had been made of Constantia in Count Oswald’s letter, because -on the one hand her gentle inoffensive manners had prevented her having -any enemies; and on the other hand, her supposed participation in her -sister’s plans prevented the parties concerned from being her -friends.—It appeared, that after quitting the Castle of March on the -memorable day of Elizabeth’s intended wedding she had not thought proper -to return to her convent. She had been way-laid by those robbers, who -(as it was now believed) were at that very time in confederacy with her -sister. No one doubted, that the free-booters had acted under Ida’s -directions, and with Constantia’s concurrence; that the latter was -totally under the influence of the former; and that if the one sister -was not quite so deserving of censure as the other, she was at least -equally unworthy of protection. It was concluded, that she was at that -moment Ida’s companion; and it was agreed by all, that the most proper -mode of treating her, was not to bestow on her even the slightest -notice. - -When the bitterness of the first shock was over, the Sisters found, that -they had no reason to consider their situation as at all altered for the -worse by the perusal of this insulting letter. It had not been in their -contemplation to effect a reconciliation with the Count of Torrenburg; -after so much as they had suffered, they no longer indulged a wish for -any thing except retirement and repose. Ida’s resentment against her -lover, for having offered his hand to Elizabeth, was not yet appeased: -and after the injurious suspicions, to which her conduct at the Castle -of March had (as she learned from Count Oswald’s letter) given rise, she -thought it highly incumbent on her to make no inquiries respecting him. -She accordingly resolved to verify the remainder of her sister’s -fortunate vision, and re-assume the name of Rosanna Tell.—Constantia for -a while refused to follow her example, and declared her determination of -hiding herself for ever from the world in the Convent of Engelberg: but -Ida besought her, with so much earnestness and with so many tears, “not -to deprive her of the society of the only person, who still loved her, -and whom she still dared to love,” that Constantia was compelled however -reluctantly to give way. - -A ring of some value, which Ida wore on the day, which made her a -captive, and of which Randolf’s respect had prevented his depriving her, -purchased a small hut and garden, in which the Countesses of Werdenberg -were but too happy to obtain a shelter. Here then they remained in -tranquil obscurity, unknowing and unknown: till the decease of the Count -of Torrenburg and its consequences compelled them once more to take a -part in the world, and again become acquainted with its splendours, and -its cares. - -By the will of Count Frederick, the whole of his domains descended to -his wife; the Damsels of Werdenberg were disinherited, nor was this -sufficient. A clause of the most disgraceful import declared the Count’s -reasons for renouncing them, and thus held them up to the world as -proper marks for the finger of contempt. It seems, that there still -existed a younger branch of the House of Werdenberg, but with whose -members the Sisters had never held any intercourse. The ignominious -clause in Count Frederick’s will greatly offended the pride of these -high-born noblemen. That any persons belonging to their family should -deserve to be mentioned upon record in such opprobrious terms, appeared -to them the most intolerable of all offences; and they vowed never to -rest, till they had compelled the delinquents to renounce their title to -a name, which (till they assumed it) had never been stained with -disgrace.—They agitated this business with so much effect, that at -length an act was obtained from the Emperor, enjoining two Damsels -calling themselves by the names of Ida and Constantia, Countesses of -Werdenberg, to lay aside those titles, as having forfeited them by their -disgraceful conduct, even supposing that they really possest by birth a -right to bear them; a fact, of which, the act professed to doubt the -veracity.—It also forbade the reception of the said Damsels into any -religious community, except such as were specified by name, and which -were those only, whose institution (as was universally known) permitted -the acceptance of persons of dissolute characters for the laudable -purpose of reformation. - -The Lords of Werdenberg were so diligent in making this act public, that -it even reached the obscure valley, in which the Sisters had sheltered -themselves under borrowed names. Little as they valued the pride of -birth, and the empty boast of high-sounding title, the disgrace thrown -upon them by this so public act was too insulting to be endured even by -their humility. It was absolutely necessary, that some steps should be -taken to vindicate themselves from such undeserved aspersions. -Accordingly without loss of time they addrest letters to the Abbess of -Zurich and to their guardians, Abbot Conrad, and the good Bishop of -Coira. They disclosed the place of their concealment, asserted the gross -injustice of the Emperor’s act, and avowed their willingness to lay -every particular respecting themselves or their conduct before either of -their guardians, or the respected Abbess. - -Till this period they had neglected to apply to these firm friends; -because they felt a total indifference to the station, which they had -lost; considered the pleasures of the great world as withdrawn from them -for ever; and only wished to pass the remainder of their lives in -tranquillity and oblivion. Their letters communicated the greatest joy -to those, to whom they were addrest; and Abbot Conrad lost not a moment -in hastening to comfort the poor afflicted ones, and to assure them of -his unabated regard and anxiety for their welfare. - -It was no difficult task for the Sisters to convince this partial friend -of their innocence. He insisted upon the necessity of their returning to -the world, and Constantia consented to quit her solitude: but Ida was -resolute never again to resume her proper station, till her honour and -reputation were re-established in their full purity and with -undiminished lustre. - -And how is this to be effected? Oh! Elizabeth, it is you alone, who can -answer that question. You have seen, how these unjustly persecuted Girls -have been deprived of every thing, of their inheritance, of their fair -fame, of the very name, to which their birth entitled them: you have -seen their innocence and your own error. Your generosity, your love of -justice will tell you, what you ought to do: to those noble sentiments, -to your own noble self, I dare trust my cause without a single terror.— - -Henry of Montfort’s illness had been long and dangerous. He was scarcely -recovered, when two successive attacks of apoplexy convinced his uncle -of a truth, which he had long been unwilling to confess to himself. He -could no longer deny, that it would be more suitable at his time of life -to turn his thoughts towards the grave, than the bridal bed; but still -though he was himself no longer the hero of them, his marrying-plans -preserved their long-established dominion over his fancy. Henry was his -undoubted heir; his attention to Count Egbert during his illness had -made a deep and very favourable impression upon the old man’s mind; he -suddenly became a favourite, to secure whose happiness in life was now -Count Egbert’s chief and almost only object; and in the old man’s -opinion, happiness in life was to be obtained by no other possible -means, than by marriage. Henry was nearly of the same opinion with him. -Unluckily, the only point, on which they differed, was the only material -point in the whole affair. Both agreed, that a marriage ought to take -place; but each proposed a different person, and neither would give up -the object of his choice. Henry insisted upon his engagement to Ida, and -declared, that while she existed, honour as well as love forbade his -offering his hand to another: while Count Egbert protested with equal -vehemence, that he never would consent to the union of his heir with a -girl, whom the last will of her nearest relation had deprived of her -inheritance and devoted to disgrace. The bride of his selection -presented herself in a far more flattering light; ’twas Elizabeth, the -young and admired heiress of Torrenburg, whose hand would confer wealth -and power on her husband, and whose heart had formerly been warmly -disposed in Henry’s favour. As he listened to this eulogium upon -Elizabeth, an involuntary sigh escaped from the nephew’s bosom. Ah! he -felt but too sensibly the whole value of Elizabeth, and was fully -conscious, how dear she would have been to him, had not Ida possest -prior and more forcible claims on his affections. Now all thoughts of -Elizabeth were quite unavailing: his heart by right was another’s, and -was no longer worthy of Elizabeth’s acceptance. This he declared to his -uncle, and exprest his resolution of keeping his engagements to Ida in -terms so strong, that the old Count lost his patience completely. In the -heat of passion, he ordered Henry to quit the Castle that instant, nor -ever presume to come again into his presence. - -He was obeyed; but the command was scarcely given, before it was -repented of. He reflected, that this very banishment would leave his -nephew at liberty to contract the union, which it was so much his wish -to prevent. The old man was little acquainted with Ida’s character and -turn of mind: he knew not, that delicate as were her notions on the -subject of honour, the warmest entreaties of her beloved Henry would by -no means be sufficient to persuade her to become Countess of Montfort. - -Count Egbert’s guards followed Henry, overtook him, and brought him back -to his paternal Castle, where he was ordered into close confinement. How -little did the writer of these lines ever imagine, that he should live -to see menaces and chains employed, in order to compel a youth to give -his hand to Elizabeth of March! - -Henry exclaimed loudly against such injustice! He demanded, that the -opinion of his proposed bride should be taken in this affair. He -declared himself convinced, that he could not possibly appeal to a more -just tribunal, and that after what had past, a proposal of marriage -would be rejected with no less firmness by Elizabeth, than by himself. -The old Count denied this last assertion most positively. He maintained -(and not without some show of plausibility) that in spite of his past -offences Elizabeth was still weak enough to cherish a secret attachment -to the man, by whom she had been so unworthily forsaken: nay, he even -went so far as to profess his firm belief, that the severity, with which -she had treated the Damsels of Werdenberg, had its origin in this -attachment; and that nothing but female spite and jealousy against a -successful rival, made her so obstinately shut her eyes and ears against -the justice of those claims, which in the opinion of many persons -(thoroughly capable to decide upon such matters) were held to be most -just, and founded on an unquestionable basis. - -Such indeed was now the general opinion. Time, and the exertions of -their guardians had cleared up many suspicious circumstances respecting -the Sisters; and the popular cry was fast turning to the side of Count -Frederick’s lineal heirs. Their uncle’s testament underwent much -censure, and created a kind of prejudice and ill will against Her, who -had benefited by it so largely. Elizabeth herself was in some measure -the cause of this loss of public estimation, which in truth every day -diminished. She had accustomed the world for so long to see her act with -uniform generosity, and to consider her as a person totally exempt from -the ordinary imperfections of her sex, that as soon as her husband’s -will was made public, every one prepared themselves for some decided act -of heroic self-denial in favour of the disinherited Sisters; and which -perhaps they would not have expected from any other than Elizabeth, -because they would not have believed any other capable of such an act. -However, it is certain, that from Her they _did_ expect it; it is also -certain, that their expectations were disappointed; and unwilling to -allow, that they had themselves required too much, they were extremely -displeased with Her, whom they accused of not having done enough. -Besides this, Elizabeth evidently fell into a great error, in dealing -with her inherited possessions, as if they had been her own purchased -and personal property. Formed by nature to be no less rash than -generous, she gave away whole districts, castles, and towns with as -little concern, as if they had been of no more value than the roses, -which encircled her head or bloomed upon her bosom. - -This inconsiderate liberality produced the greatest discontent among -those subjects, whom she bestowed away with so little ceremony. She is -already informed of the uproar and confusion, which ensued; but she is -by no means aware of the extreme danger, in which she was at one time -involved. The discontented vassals denied her right to make them over to -another, and declared themselves to be lawfully the vassals of the young -Countesses of Werdenberg: they entered into a secret correspondence with -the neighbouring Switzers: they dispatched messengers to the valley, -where the Sisters had taken refuge, and assured them of their firm -resolution to support their rights. Constantia was already departed; -they found Ida alone in her humble cottage, and made the purport of -their coming known to her. Tears of joy trickled down her cheeks as she -listened, and her first words were prayers of gratitude to Heaven. - -—“My worthy friends,” said she at length, “your words have given me the -only comfort, which I now could look for on this side the grave! The -Ida, whom a whole good and honest people demands for their sovereign, -can never be that traitress, that unprincipled wanton, that ungrateful -snake, which I have been termed so publicly and so unjustly. Your -application has given me back my honour, has reconciled me with myself: -this is all I could wish for; now leave me, my friends, and bear with -you my warmest thanks. Be faithful to your liege-lady; Heaven and my -uncle’s will have destined her for your protectress, and you will find -her a noble one. I know well her merits, and admire them; I envy her not -her good fortune; but be assured, that even did my happiness depend on -my establishing those rights, which you state me to possess, the Ida -whom your deputation has thus signally honoured, at least deserves that -honour too well, to seek any benefit however great by clandestine, and -therefore by unworthy means.”— - -The deputies listened to her with astonishment; they requested her to -reflect coolly upon their proposals, and left her with a promise to -return. - -And they _did_ return, furnished with new and much more forcible -arguments;—and yet those arguments were employed in vain. They had -discovered Ida’s former affection for Henry: they applied to Count -Egbert, and laid their plans before him. As they appeared to reconcile -all differences between his nephew and himself, he readily promised his -assistance: and the deputies now delivered a letter to Ida, in which -Count Egbert assured her of Henry’s unabated attachment: he magnified -the fortitude, with which his nephew had resisted all attempts to shake -his fidelity; and he conjured her to accept the title of Countess of -Montfort, since without the possession of her hand there was no -happiness in life for Henry. - -The poor Ida wept, as she read this letter: every line seemed an arrow -in her very heart. She was conscious, that in her present humble state -she could never become her lover’s bride, and that the old Count’s -consent was entirely grounded on the prospect of her succeeding to Count -Frederick’s inheritance.—Yet she still shuddered at the thoughts of -obtaining the accomplishment of her fondest wishes by means, which she -felt to be unworthy of her; she still positively rejected the proposals -of the embassy, and declared herself convinced, that Henry of Montfort -was as little disposed as herself to assist any plan, whose object was -to injure Elizabeth. The deputies still prest her to comply; they would -take no refusal; and at length to free herself from their importunity -she left the valley privately, and took refuge within a Convent, the -name of which she concealed from every one except her sister and the -Abbot of Cloister-Curwald. - -Elizabeth’s knowledge of these transactions was confined to their mere -outward appearance. She knew, that she was calumniated by secret -enemies, and justified by unknown friends; but little did she suspect, -that these favourable judges of her conduct were those very persons, -against whom she had nourished in her heart the most inveterate -prejudice. Its true, that she was not without real friends, willing even -to risk her displeasure, rather than suffer her to labour under such -gross errors: the Abbot of Curwald often endeavoured to lay the history -of the unfortunate Sisters before her eyes, but in vain: No one -understood better than Elizabeth the secret of imposing silence on -those, whom she suspected of an intention to say that, which it was by -any means disagreeable to her to hear. - -She suddenly thought fit to take up her abode in the Convent of Zurich, -and there indulge her grief for the loss of Count Frederick without -restraint. This was a step, which her differences with her discontented -vassals rendered both agreeable to herself, and proper in the eye of the -world: into the bargain, it possest the further advantage (though she -thought it as well to confine this motive for her seclusion to her own -bosom) of freeing her from the wearisome remonstrances of the Abbot, and -from the truths, which he was so obstinately bent upon placing before -her eyes. It’s true, she was still exposed to receiving letters from -him; but those it was in her power not to answer; or indeed not even to -read, if the first lines gave her reason to believe, that the remainder -would afford her but little satisfaction. - -But Elizabeth was too good, too noble, to be entirely deserted by truth -and virtue, however sedulously she strove to shun them. They pursued her -to the Convent, and their imploring voices often spoke to her in the -stillness of her solitary cell. I know from good authority, that many a -seed of good has fallen upon her heart, which she has vainly endeavoured -to choak in brambles: and should I succeed in my attempt to seduce her -unconsciously into perusing the history of the Damsels of Werdenberg, -under the title of “The Sisters without a Name,” (a title, which -describes them but too well, since injustice and error have robbed them -of their proper one) I shall look upon the victory as already won. - -And yet by such a victory, what will be gained? How is it in Elizabeth’s -power to benefit these persecuted girls? Constantia, who (unknown to her -former friend) now inhabits the same Convent with her, demands nothing -in this world except permission to take the veil: Ida is contented with -her humble habitation near the Lake of Thun; and far from requiring from -Elizabeth anything more than mutual forgiveness, she is willing to -compensate for the involuntary mortification, which she caused to her on -her bridal day, by the sacrifice of every thing; even of that, which she -holds dearest! Yes, Elizabeth; she is willing to sacrifice even the hand -and affections of her Henry! - -The proposal made by the deputies of Elizabeth’s rebellious vassals was -laid before Henry by his uncle. The plan, whose object was the ruin of -the unsuspecting Countess of Torrenburg, was so well laid, and the -preparations were in such forwardness, that it seemed almost impossible -for the design to fail. Henry gave a feigned compliance to the old -Count’s proposals, and was rewarded with his liberty. The first use, -which he made of it, was to hasten to Richard of Ulmenhorst, to whom -Elizabeth had entrusted the government of her domains during her -seclusion in the Convent. To him did young Montfort discover the -conspiracy against the Heiress of Torrenburg, and they agreed upon -measures for defeating it. The noble Richard had loved Elizabeth in the -earliest spring of his life, and had no reason to despair, till the -blooming Henry appeared and won the prize, almost before he himself -desired it. Richard now first knew the real character of his so -long-hated rival: and to know it, and admire it, were but the same. The -conspiracy was defeated; the new friends separated; and Henry hastened -to the Lake of Thun. - -—“Ida!” he exclaimed, “I am thine, and for ever! I have broken through -every obstacle, which divided us; I have severed every chain, which -detained me from your arms. I renounce the name of Montfort, which has -inflicted upon me nothing but misfortune: never shall the man, who so -unjustly lords it over my possessions, hear of his persecuted nephew -more. You, Ida, must renounce the title of Werdenberg, which has been -the cause to you of so much sorrow, and resume that beloved name, which -you bore, when we first met. This cottage, this garden, and this little -flock are enough to content all the wishes of two loving hearts; and -Erwin Melthal and Rosanna Tell will pass together such days, as even, -the happiest might look upon with envy.”— - -Ida felt in her bosom a painful conflict between love and duty. She had -renounced wealth and splendour for herself without a pang; but ought she -to renounce them for Henry? Ought she to suffer him to quit for her a -station, on which he was calculated to confer such lustre? Such were her -doubts; yet undoubtedly love would at length have triumphed, had not a -report reached her, that Elizabeth’s situation was become more difficult -than ever. Her vassals had given up in despair all hopes of persuading -the Sisters to contest the Count of Torrenburg’s will. They found, that -Elizabeth was destined to remain their sovereign: yet they protested -(with such violence as gave reason to apprehend the most dangerous -consequences from a refusal) that on one condition only would they -return peaceably to their obedience. That condition was, that if -Elizabeth was to be still their liege-lady, Henry of Montfort should -become their liege-lord: and they swore, that she never should enter the -Castle of Torrenburg except as Henry’s wife, unless she chose to see her -way strewn with bleeding corses. - -Letters from Richard of Ulmenhorst confirmed this report; and the -generous Ida’s resolution was taken without a moment’s delay. - -—“Go, my beloved!” she exclaimed and embraced him for the last time. -“You were not born to waste your days in the obscurity of these shades. -Power and splendour form the proper sphere for you to move in, and those -it is not in the poor Ida’s power to bestow! Go then, Henry; protect -Elizabeth; content her people; make your wife, make your vassals, make -_yourself_ happy; your praises will reach me even in this secluded -valley.... Then _I_ shall be happy too!”— - -Henry obeyed her: to refuse was in truth impossible! With every hour and -from every quarter fresh entreaties arrived, all assuring him, that if -he meant to rescue the Countess of Torrenburg from the fury of her -rebellious subjects, not a moment must be lost.—He determined to -sacrifice every other consideration, to that of Elizabeth’s welfare: he -is arrived at Zurich: he has renounced his claims to Ida’s affections; -Ida has renounced her rights to her uncle’s inheritance; and to-morrow -will see Henry of Montfort kneeling at the feet of Elizabeth, and will -hear him offer her his hand for the second time. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - ELIZABETH OF TORRENBURG. - - - ═════════════════════ - - - _PART THE EIGHTH._ - - - ═════════════════════ - - - _Elizabeth, Countess of Torrenburg, to Conrad, Abbot of - Cloister-Curwald._ - -Conrad! Conrad! how was it possible for me to mistake for a moment the -characters of _your_ pen, for those of any other? Of that pen, which -like its master’s persuasive tongue, knows how to blend truth, raillery, -and praise together so artfully, that the heart feels itself -irresistibly subdued, irresistibly compelled to follow, whither-soever -it is your pleasure to conduct it! - -I was aware of your power: it was therefore that I fled from your -presence, that I shunned your conversation, that I declined your -correspondence. I knew well, that your eloquence could give a fair -appearance even to the worst cause; and at that time Ida’s cause was -believed by me to be one of the worst, otherwise I would not have fled -from its discussion. - -But now how are my sentiments changed! Helen, sainted Helen! now then -the time is arrived for my imitating thy glorious example: Ida is a -second Amalberga: Elizabeth shall be a second Helen! - -No: Helen’s curse shall not fall upon _my_ head: I will not hate those, -whom _she_ has blest; I will not rob her beloved ones of their -inheritance. Look down on me, fair saint! Behold; I sacrifice to Ida -that, which is most precious to me, the affection of my heart, the -happiness of my life, the hand of Henry: and can you doubt, whether I -will restore to her that which I prize so little, a few handfuls of -sordid earth? - -Conrad, my whole soul is in a storm! I scarcely know, what I say ... -what I write ... what I think ... in the present moment, I can only -feel!—Yet ere I close my letter, learn thus much. Constantia is with me; -yesterday I clasped her to my heart. Alas! for the gentle, innocent, -suffering girl! Never did my bosom harbour against _her_ one spark of -ill-will: her intercourse would have been like balsam to the wounds of -my heart, even while I hated Ida as the inflictor of those wounds. It -was cruel in you, my good Abbot, to let me inhabit the same dwelling -with her for so long, and yet keep me in ignorance, that such a blessing -was so near me. - -In truth, you have not dealt well with me throughout; neither yourself, -Conrad, nor your confidante the Abbess of Zurich. The most secret -recesses of my soul were known to you, while I believed them to be -closed against all the world; you knew much, of which I would have -purchased the knowledge with my whole wealth, and which you concealed -from me far too long. I thought, that I acted without being observed: -and you were busied in watching and numbering every step which I took. I -cannot feel quite satisfied with your proceedings towards me; my heart -involuntarily breaks out into reproaches and complaints. Yet neither -complaints nor reproaches can now avail. The die is cast; I cannot avoid -following the path, which is pointed out by duty—_cannot_, did I -say?—No; let me not wrong my feelings: I _would_ not, if I _could_! - -Oh! that I could paint to you in colours sufficiently vivid the scenes, -which followed my perusal of your manuscript!—the Abbess is ill.... I -fear ill unto death!—I flew to her sick bed, and with the enthusiasm of -my sensations forced her back from contemplating the fields of -blessedness, to which she is already so near, that she needs but to -close her eyes in order to behold the reflection of their glories! She -smiled at what I said to her, and which must have appeared to her so -trifling, so unworthy of a thought, when compared with those images by -which her mind had just been occupied.—Her words inscribed themselves -upon my heart in characters of flame: you will soon be informed of their -effects. - -Constantia was summoned—the Abbess joined our hands; we sank upon each -other’s bosom. No explanation was necessary; no one spoke a word; we -understood _her_ ... we understood ourselves. - -—“Now then,” said the invalid in a soft faltering voice, which seemed a -middle tone between a mortal’s and a spirit’s: “now then nothing is -wanting ... but the presence of Ida!”— - -—“Of Ida,” I repeated, “and of her Henry!”— - -And Henry came; came the next morning, as you had assured me that he -would, and for that purpose which you mentioned. He has vindicated my -cause like an hero, and has fully established my authority and my -rights: he has knelt at my feet; he has offered me his hand. He has -named love as the reward of his services, and has obtained the boon: how -could I refuse the reward of love to the most pure, the most tender, the -most unfortunate of lovers? - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - _Constantia, Countess of Werdenberg, to Abbot Conrad._ - -Elizabeth’s letter must already have apprized you, my kind protector, of -the favourable change, which has taken place in the situation of your -wards. Count Henry has been here, and is again departed. He came by -Ida’s command to offer his hand to Elizabeth: he is returned at -Elizabeth’s desire to salute her rival as joint-heiress with myself of -the rich domains of Torrenburg. - -—“I do no more than my duty,” said Elizabeth, when Henry endeavoured to -express his gratitude. “Your heart belongs to Ida, and never _ought_ to -be another’s, therefore never _can_ be mine. As to Count Frederick’s -inheritance, demand of this venerable man, whose claim to it is the most -just; that of Elizabeth, or of the Damsels of Werdenberg.”— - -As she spoke, the door opened, and a silver-haired stranger entered the -apartment. It was the Sage of Zurich, the well-known Albert Reding, to -whom Elizabeth had referred her disputed claims, previous to your -unveiling the truth of our history, and removing her prejudices against -us. Yes, Conrad, yes! even had she still continued to abhor us, so sure -as I have life, Elizabeth would still have acted by us with justice! - -The venerable Albert confirmed Elizabeth’s declaration; he even -consented to accompany the enraptured Montfort to Ida’s valley, and make -known to her this sudden change in her situation. They would fain have -persuaded me to join their party: but I could not endure the thoughts of -quitting my generous friend, at a moment, when she so greatly needs -support after this difficult self-victory, and under the deep affliction -which she feels at the approaching dissolution of our worthy -Abbess.—Farewell, dear father, and believe, that the memory of your -kindness shall live in my heart for ever! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - _Abbot Conrad to Sigisbert, Bishop of Coira._ - -Count Henry of Montfort and his bride are established in the Castle of -Torrenburg. Their arrival threw the populace into an ecstasy of joy, and -all inclination to uproar and revolt seems to be completely annihilated. -Neither is Elizabeth any longer an object of aversion to her former -subjects; you are already informed of the laudable manner, in which she -past the month immediately succeeding the death of the Abbess of Zurich, -and which she entirely dedicated to providing for the future benefit of -those, over whom she was so soon to renounce all jurisdiction, and who -(while under her command) had been so little sensible of the value of -such a mistress. - -—“The few minutes,” said she, when she addrest them for the last time; -“the few minutes, during which I can still consider you as my subjects, -shall be employed in convincing you, that you mistook my character; and -that your welfare neither is now, nor ever was, indifferent to the heart -of Elizabeth. I am preparing to resign my authority into the hands of -the Damsels of Werdenberg; but that authority shall be the only one -worth having, authority over a _free people_.”— - -What she promised, she has performed most amply. Everything in these -regions breathes freedom and happiness; she has established the -privileges of this people on grounds so firm, that even were the antient -Tyrants of Carlsheim and Sargans to resume their abused authority, they -would be compelled to leave their subjects in possession of their -unviolated freedom. - -Henry and Ida would fain have exprest to her their gratitude in person; -but she has declined receiving them for the present, under colour of too -great affliction for the late loss of her friend, the Abbess. How say -you, my Lord Bishop?—I fear, the heart of our Elizabeth is by no means -healed, since she cannot prevail on herself to endure the sight of her -rival’s happiness, even although that happiness is a work of her own -creation. - -Well! well!—time I hope, will do much; and (unless I flatter myself with -believing too ardently what I wish) the attentions of Richard of -Ulmenhorst will do more. This excellent young man is full of hope, that -he may yet be able to establish his former claims on the heart of -Elizabeth; Ida and Henry encourage him in his sanguine expectations; and -no efforts of mine, that can advance his wishes, shall be wanting, you -may be sure. However, nothing can be attempted, till St. Helena’s -Festival arrives; on that day Elizabeth has promised to receive all her -friends (Henry and Ida not excepted) and every one looks forward with -the utmost impatience to this appointed day. - -Of course Constantia did not fail to be present at the wedding of her -beloved sister. Methinks, her passion for the Cloister is sensibly -diminished since her re-establishment in her legitimate claims. With my -whole heart shall I say—“Amen!”—to her resolution to lay aside the veil: -she is so well calculated to form the blessing of an earthly bridegroom, -that it would be a sin to bury her within the walls of a Convent. She -already numbers many powerful noblemen in the list of her admirers; but -no one hangs upon her smiles with more perfect adoration, than Count -Oswald, Elizabeth’s brother. He has confided his passion to me, and I am -best able to judge the nature of his sentiments. No contracted views of -interest (as many unjustly suppose, and as perhaps Constantia herself -suspects) induce him to kneel at the feet of the rich Heiress of -Sargans: no one can imagine such a motive, who is acquainted with the -real character of the proud but noble Oswald, the lustre of which is -bright and glorious as the light of the sun; though like that luminary -it is now and then obscured by a few dark spots, moveable and -insignificant. No; he seeks the hand of Constantia from no other cause -than the consciousness of her perfections; except that he repents of his -former injustice towards the Sisters, and is anxious to express his -present respect in the most marked and striking manner. - -I know not, what hopes he is authorized to nourish. The quiet retired -Constantia gives encouragement to none of her admirers, and observes an -obstinate silence respecting her intentions even to me: however, Count -Oswald possesses a powerful interest in her opinion from his being the -brother of Elizabeth.—I expect that the festival of St. Helena will -decide much. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - _Conclusion—written by Abbot Conrad._ - -That the readers of the fore-going manuscripts may not be left with -their curiosity entirely ungratified, I will endeavour to fill up the -chasm, which otherwise would appear in the Memoirs of Elizabeth. Let me -obtain their pardon, if I relate as briefly as possible the -circumstances of a scene, which produced upon my heart an impression -very painful at the time, and never to be obliterated. - -St. Helena’s festival arrived. All those, whom Elizabeth had invited, -failed not to attend at the appointed place and hour; among them were -the Heiresses of Torrenburg, Count Henry of Montfort, Count Oswald of -March (Elizabeth’s brother) Richard of Ulmenhorst, the Bishop of Coira, -and myself. - -It is the pious and laudable custom of our days (a custom, which I hope -will be preserved even to the latest posterity) that all our most -distinguished festivities should commence by offering an homage of -adoration to the Supreme: it was therefore natural, that immediately on -our arrival we should be conducted to the church belonging to the -Convent of Zurich. Yet we could not help feeling some surprize, that -Elizabeth as our hostess did not welcome us at the church-door, and -place herself at the head of our procession, while it moved through the -cloisters towards the chapel; that being the established custom on such -occasions. However, we had scarcely time to make any reflections, before -we found ourselves within the chapel. - -It was most gorgeously adorned, as if set out for some great solemnity. -The walls were decorated with wreaths of flowers; the reliques were -exposed, the pictures were uncovered: the whole wealth of the Convent -was displayed, and blazed on every side; innumerable tapers in -chandeliers of gold, intermingled with silver lamps, dispelled the gloom -of the long aisles; and clouds of incense rolled along the fretted roof, -which echoed back the melodious sounds of lutes and voices, as they -swelled in full chorus from the adjoining choir. At that moment our -knowledge of church-customs naturally made the Bishop and myself -conceive a suspicion of the purpose, for which we had been conducted -thither: perhaps too, the same thought suggested itself to Constantia, -for on a sudden her tears began to flow. The situation of Richard of -Ulmenhorst was most distressing: he ceased not to enquire, why Elizabeth -did not appear; and it was with difficulty, that Montfort, Ida, and -Count Oswald (who preserved their presence of mind better than the rest) -could persuade him to observe that silence, which was necessary in so -holy a place. - -Unhappy Richard! for many weeks past had his friends conspired to buoy -him up with hopes, which this single moment was destined to destroy for -ever: for now the curtain, which concealed from us the chapel’s -sanctuary, was withdrawn, and all our worst fears were confirmed. -Elizabeth, adorned with all the pomp and splendour of wealth, and still -more with all the charms, which nature had bestowed upon her superior to -her whole sex, knelt before the altar, and offered up at the footstool -of the Almighty’s throne the greatest sacrifice, which a mortal can ever -make; the sacrifice of youth, love, beauty, liberty, and life! - -What impression this unexpected, this unwished for scene made upon the -assembly at large, it is neither in _my_ power to describe, nor (I -believe) in the power of any one of those, who were personally -interested about Elizabeth. Each individual felt so much upon his own -account, that he was rendered incapable of attending to the sensations -produced upon others. It was not till the awful ceremony of pronouncing -the great and total renunciation was on the point of taking place, that -I turned my eyes upon the countenance of the unhappy Richard: it was -pale as that of a corse; and yet with every moment it seemed to grow -still paler, till his eyes closed, and he sank into my arms without -sentiment. - -—“My soul,” said Elizabeth in a firm voice, “I bequeath to him, who -gave it! my body I bequeath to the grave; my wealth to the church; the -domains of Torrenburg to its legitimate possessors; the recollection -of Henry of Montfort to his beloved Ida; Richard of Ulmenhorst.... -Richard, my friend of youth, and the truest of all lovers.... Richard, -whom I ought never to have quitted for the sake of any Montfort.... -Ah! to what consoling Angel shall I consign the noble Richard, that -she may heal the wounds inflicted by my caprice on his honest -suffering heart?—Constantia! friend of my bosom, be thou that Angel! -thou art far more worthy of his love than the inconstant Elizabeth, -who in resigning _him_, resigns every prospect of earthly happiness; -who in sacrificing _him_, offers up to Heaven the greatest sacrifice, -of which her nature is capable.—Be he thine, dear injured Constantia; -accept from me his hand, his heart! my injustice to Ida I have -repaired by the resignation of Henry; but I still owed thee a mighty -sacrifice, to efface the memory of many a bitter hour occasioned by my -obstinacy, my persecution, my self-will.—Now then I have done with the -world for ever!—Beloved-ones! I bless you!—Pray for me, and -farewell!”— - -The Bishop (though greatly affected by this whole unexpected scene) -thought it right to wait till the conclusion of the ceremony: But -anxiety for Richard, whose indisposition had occasioned the bye-standers -to remove him into the open air, furnished me with an excuse for leaving -the chapel, which I seized with eagerness. To say the truth, I was far -from satisfied with Elizabeth’s determination. I shall no doubt be -severely censured by my more devout successors; yet I needs must -confess, that in spite of my own vows (which I pronounced with the most -heart-felt joy, and never have felt the slightest wish to retract) yet -still I say, in spite of my own vows, I never have seen without a pang -society deprived of a valuable member, and those talents buried within -the solitude of the Cloister, which might have made its owner a blessing -to the world at large. - -When the first shock was past, Richard recovered his resolution, and -endeavoured to conceal the agony of his feelings under the veil of -seriousness and silence. A splendid entertainment was spread before us, -at which none of the holy Sisters appeared; consequently, we were at -liberty to communicate our sentiments on what had just past without -restraint. ’Twas the most melancholy feast, at which I ever assisted; a -feast, which I shall never forget, as long as I possess existence; it -seemed to me Elizabeth’s funeral-feast! we soon rose from the table, on -which the viands remained untouched, and we prepared for our departure; -for we thought it vain to expect admission to the newly-profest Nun, and -indeed in our present temper of mind that admission was scarcely to be -wished—the Bishop, however, delivered it as his opinion, that propriety -required us at least to give Elizabeth the option of seeing us. -Accordingly, a message informed her of our approaching departure; her -answer was, that she must decline all visits, except those of Constantia -and of Richard of Ulmenhorst. - -They obeyed her orders. Elizabeth received them with joy and tenderness. -She doubted not the success of her proposal, and addrest Constantia as -the heiress of Richard’s heart: but she was speedily undeceived. Richard -declared, in terms so express as left no doubt of his decision, that -since Elizabeth was lost to the world, no refuge was left for him but -the Cloister; while on the other hand, Constantia confest, that her -heart was no longer in her own power. After a long and unavailing -discussion, Elizabeth dismist them, whether satisfied or displeased by -the firmness of her two dearest friends, it may be difficult to say: but -unless I am totally ignorant of the female mind, she could not help -being flattered by Richard’s refusal to admit any rival to her in his -heart, but God; and probably she was secretly not much incensed against -Constantia for having bestowed her affections else-where. - -Count Oswald, who had been by no means pleased by his sister’s -endeavours to unite Richard and Constantia, now felt his hopes revive: -he flattered himself, that _he_ was the unknown object of Constantia’s -choice; but in this belief he was mistaken. There was a young knight, -who had offered her his heart and hand at a time, when she had nothing -but a heart and hand to offer in return. Conradin, an ill-portioned -brother of the Landgrave of Thuringia, would have loved her, had she -been no other than Mary Tell; Conradin had been faithful to Constantia -of Werdenberg under all the scorn and obloquy, under which she at one -time laboured; and Conradin was now the man, for whom the wealthy -Heiress of Sargans rejected every other. _He_ deserved the inestimable -treasure of a wife like Constantia; and _she_ was well worthy to be the -mistress of a heart, whose tenderness and generosity could only be -excelled by her own. - -It was long, before Elizabeth acquired sufficient firmness to receive -the personal thanks of Ida and Henry for that felicity, of which she was -herself the authoress; but on the day when she was consecrated as Domina -of Zurich, this long-delayed interview took place. The impression, which -it made upon her mind, will be best explained by the following letter. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - _Elizabeth to Constantia._ - -At length then this dreaded interview is over: I have seen Ida and her -happy husband.—Wrong me not, Constantia, by suspecting, that resentment -or pique has made me delay this meeting for so long; oh! no! it was the -consciousness of my own weak heart!—Even Helen of Homburg could not at -once resolve to witness the happiness of Eginhart and Amalberga; and -alas! I am no faultless Saint like Helen!—the Cloister is the palace of -enthusiasm, is the native land of visions; its inhabitants are only -happy in proportion, as those visions are sweet and soothing. I had -formed for myself a little circle of ideal companions, whom at my -pleasure I could summon to dispel my solitude. My venerable friend, by -the side of whose death-bed I formed the resolution of dedicating my -life to the service of Heaven, was among the dearest of those -apparitions. The hand of mortality had torn her from me; Enthusiasm -restored her to my arms. I saw her, as if she had been still alive.... I -spoke to her, and laid open the most secret folds of my heart.... I -almost fancied, that at times I heard her reply in words of comfort.... -Alas! the fatal sight of Ida and her Henry has dispelled all these -visions, which were to me the source of so much happiness! it seemed -like a flash of lightning, which penetrates through our closed eye-lids, -and wakes us suddenly from some delightful dream.—Now nothing flits -before me in my solitude, but those scenes of my melancholy life, in -which Ida and Montfort bore so great a share.—Leave me, oh! leave me, ye -cruel thoughts, which force me back to a world of sorrow; and thou, -mild-spirit of my sainted friend, return, and by thy presence aid me to -prepare for that state of bliss, which _you_ already enjoy, and to which -I feel that _I_ am hastening. - -The will of Heaven be done; but the moment of dissolution will be sweet -and welcome! - - - - - THE END. - - - ------------------------------------ - - Printed by D. N. SHURY, Berwick-street, Soho. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - ● Transcriber’s Notes: - ○ Errata listed in this volume have been applied to all volumes. - ○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. - ○ Typographical errors were silently corrected. - ○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only - when a predominant form was found in this book. - ○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - ERRATA. - - - VOL. I. - -Page 6, line 2—_for_ “to which,” _read_ “for which.” - -— 172, line 19—_for_ “niputations,” _read_ “imputations.” - -— 272, line 17—_for_ “were,” _read_ “was.” - -— 273, line 3—_for_ “confidant,” _read_ “confident.” - - - VOL. II. - -Page 29, line 11—_for_ “compelled to,” _read_ “compelled me to.” - -— 153, line 11—_for_ “which,” _read_ “as.” - -— 158, line 11—_omit_ “or.” - -— 219, line 4—_for_ “that your sex are the most fortunate,” _read_ “that - you are the most fortunate of your sex.” - -— 249, line 18—_for_ “derison,” _read_ “derision.” - -— 281, line 3—_for_ “woful,” _read_ “awful.” - -— 337, line 11—_for_ “hasten a person,” _read_ “hasten in person.” - - - VOL. III. - - -Page 29, line 12—_for_ “rung,” _read_ “wrung.” - -— 108, line 14—_for_ “has,” _read_ “had.” - -— 295, line last—_for_ “probibity,” _read_ “probity.” - -— 308, line 12—_for_ “uperiority,” _read_ “superiority.” - -— 349, line 6—_for_ “Zender,” _read_ “Bender.” - - - VOL. IV. - -Page 31, line 1—_for_ “the would,” _read_ “she would.” - -— 52, line 2—_efface the_ Comma _after_ “Rosanna.” - -— 140, line 12—_instead of a_ semicolon _put a_ comma. - -— 159, line 2—_for_ “except,” _read_ “than.” - -— 283, line 17—_for_ “confe,” _read_ “confer.” - -— 309, line 12—_for_ “dye,” _read_ “die.” - -— 311, line 14—_after_ “mentioned,” _put_ a full stop. - - --------------------- - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FEUDAL TYRANTS, VOLUME 4 (OF -4) *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c027 { border: none; border-bottom: thin solid; margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 35%; width: 30%; margin-right: 35%; } - body {width:80%; margin:auto; } - h1 {font-size: 2.50em; text-align: center; } - h2 {font-size: 1.50em; text-align: center; font-style: italic; } - h3 {font-size: 1.25em; text-align: center; } - body {font-size: 1em; } - .tnbox {background-color:#E3E4FA;border:1px solid silver;padding: 0.5em; - margin:2em 10% 0 10%; } - .fn {font-size: 0.85em; line-height: 125%; } - .blackletter {font-family: "Old English Text MT", Gothic, serif; } - </style> - </head> - <body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Feudal tyrants, volume 4 (of 4), by Christiane Benedicte Eugenie Hebenstreit Naubert</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Feudal tyrants, volume 4 (of 4)</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>The counts of Carlsheim and Sargans</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Christiane Benedicte Eugenie Hebenstreit Naubert</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Matthew Gregory Lewis</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 23, 2022 [eBook #69625]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Barry Abrahamsen and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FEUDAL TYRANTS, VOLUME 4 (OF 4) ***</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p><span class='small'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div> - <h1 class='c001'>FEUDAL TYRANTS, Volume IV.</h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c000'> - <div><span class='c002'>◆ ◆ ◆</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='c005'>FEUDAL TYRANTS;</span></div> - <div class='c006'>OR,</div> - <div class='c006'><span class='c007'><i>The Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans</i>.</span></div> - <div class='c006'><span class='c008'>A ROMANCE.</span></div> - <div class='c000'><i>TAKEN FROM THE GERMAN.</i></div> - <div class='c000'>IN FOUR VOLUMES.</div> - <div class='c006'><span class='c002'>◆ ◆ ◆</span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='c008'><span class='sc'>By M. G. LEWIS,</span></span></div> - <div class='c000'>AUTHOR OF</div> - <div class='c000'><span class='c009'><i>The Bravo of Venice, Adelgitha, Rugantino, &c.</i></span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='c002'>◆ ◆ ◆</span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='c002'>VOL. IV.</span></div> - <div class='c006'>═══════════════════</div> - <div><em class='gesperrt'>SECOND EDITION</em>.</div> - <div>═══════════════════</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The portals sound, and pacing forth</div> - <div class='line in2'>With stately steps and slow,</div> - <div class='line'>High potentates, and dames of regal birth,</div> - <div class='line in2'>And mitred fathers in long order go.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'> — <span class='sc'>Gray.</span></p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>══════════════════════════════════</div> - <div class='c000'><span class='c012'><span class="blackletter">London:</span></span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='small'>Printed by D. N. SHURY, Berwick-Street, Soho,</span></div> - <div class='c000'>FOR J. F. HUGHES, WIGMORE STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE.</div> - <div>──</div> - <div>1807</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c013'> - <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span><span class='c014'>FEUDAL TYRANTS,</span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='large'>&c. &c. &c.</span></div> - <div class='c000'>═════════════════════</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c015'><i>PART THE SEVENTH.</i></h2> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>═════════════════════</div> - <div class='c000'>CONTINUATION OF</div> - <div class='c000'>“THE SISTERS WITHOUT A NAME.”</div> - <div class='c000'><i>Written by the Abbot of Cloister-Curwald.</i></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>Oh! noble Elizabeth! you to -whom these leaves are more particularly -addrest, have you had resolution -sufficient to read thus far? will -you possess sufficient presence of mind -to enable you to continue the perusal -<span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>of this writing, now that I have -placed before you the most important -and most cruel transactions, which have -occurred throughout your whole life, -and by which your whole life has been -embittered? and will you, when at length -you reach the conclusion of my painful -narrative, magnanimously sacrifice your -long-cherished prejudices; and daring -to gaze steadily on the light of truth, -will you learn to excuse and to pity, to -regret and to forgive?</p> - -<p class='c017'>Before I relate the transactions, which -followed the fatal interview between -Ida and her lover on your bridal day, I -must request your patient attention, -while I relate those incidents of Henry -of Montfort’s earlier days, which I -believe to be still unknown to -you. It is thus only, that I can enable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>you to form a correct and unbiassed -judgment of the case.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Henry’s father stood already on the -brink of the grave, when his son was -born: he died, while Henry was still an -infant. His wife soon followed him. -The care of the little orphan now -devolved upon an uncle, who would have -been much better pleased, if the deceased -Count of Montfort had died without -progeny, and had left him the undivided -inheritance of his fertile and extensive -domains.</p> - -<p class='c017'>By his brother’s will this uncle was -appointed guardian to the young orphan, -and destined to be his representative, till -Henry should attain the age of twenty-one. -This limitation of his power was -by no means to Count Egbert’s taste. -He would willingly have disputed the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>legitimacy of Henry’s birth; but the -acknowledged virtue of the late Countess -made it impossible to fix any suspicions -upon her character. However, -by dint of solicitations, of powerful protection -at Vienna, and (above all) of -considerable sums of money distributed -among the Emperor’s favourites, he contrived -to get his nephew’s claims set -aside till after his own decease; though -the decree, which thus established Count -Egbert’s succession to the inheritance, -positively excluded any children which -he might have, and regulated, that they -should only succeed to the estates of -Montfort, in case of Henry’s dying without -heirs.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Though Count Egbert was already -advanced in years, and was still a bachelor, -nevertheless he was highly offended -<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>at the restriction thus established against -his lineal descendants, in case it should -ever please Heaven to bestow upon -him such blessings. The sight of the -child became hateful to him; and in -hopes of at once relieving himself from -its presence, and of removing an obstacle -to his contracting a suitable marriage, -he gave his little nephew in charge to -one of his servants, whom he believed -capable of executing any villainy; at -the same time telling him—“To do -with the brat whatever he thought -would be most conducive to his master’s -interests.”—Some little remains of conscience -prevented his declaring his -wishes in more express terms; but what -he said, was quite sufficient to make his -meaning very far from ambiguous.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Count Egbert’s servant was a native -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>of Switzerland. He gave his lord to -understand, that he perfectly comprehended -him, and made no difficulty of -taking a solemn oath, that he would -punctually obey his injunctions as exprest -above. After an absence of some -weeks he returned without the child; -his reward was ample; and he immediately -employed it in securing a -kind protection for the orphan Henry, -whom he had neither murdered, nor -abandoned to chance and the wide -world, but had concealed him in a -shepherd’s-cottage near the Lake of the -Four Cantons, in order the more effectually -to secure him against the malice of -his unnatural uncle. The shepherd died, -and bequeathed the child, to the care of -his master, the venerable Melthal. -Count Egbert’s servant (who occasionally -<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>visited those parts in order to -inquire after the safety of him, whom -he had rescued from destruction) was -greatly rejoiced to find him under the -protection of old Melthal, who was universally -esteemed to be one of the -wisest and best of mortals. He scrupled -not to confide to him the secret of Henry’s -birth, and they arranged together -the means of establishing him in his -rights at a future period. The servant -paid the debt of nature soon after this -discovery, and the mystery of Henry’s -rank and claims remained in the sole -possession of Melthal.</p> - -<p class='c017'>He spared no expence in rendering -the boy’s education equal to his future -hopes; and aware, that in all probability -resolution and valour would be the only -means of reinstating him fully in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>possession of his rights, at an early period -of life he sent the orphan away from his -retired and peaceful vallies, and took -measures for his being brought up to a -life of arms.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Melthal frequently forsook his cottage -to visit the young Henry, who now -began to give tokens of a real inclination -for his profession, and was more -distinguished in the Emperor’s army, -than any other youth of the same age: -but he never invited Henry to return -his visit among the mountains of Switzerland. -Now, however, that the old -man was sinking under the weight of -years, and began to feel that distant -journeys were more than his debilitated -frame could bear, he determined to send -for the son of his adoption, that he might -declare to him his real origin, and bestow -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>a blessing on him, before they should -part for ever. The young man obeyed -the call: his arrival was honoured by a -rural festival; and the young people of -those happy vallies rejoiced in the acquisition -of such a youth, who (as they -supposed) was returned home in order -to pass the remainder of his life among -them, as their friend and fellow citizen.</p> - -<p class='c017'>You are already acquainted with the -mutual attachment, to which this festival -gave rise by the meeting of Ida and -Henry under the assumed names of -Rosanna Tell and Erwin Melthal. This -attachment soon became public, and -among others came to the knowledge of -old Melthal. An union with the daughter -of an Helvetian peasant (even though -that peasant was William Tell, and -though the maiden herself was the perfection -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>of loveliness and virtue) threatened -the destruction of all those exalted -plans, which the old man had been so -long meditating in favour of his adopted -son; and he thought, nothing more -would be necessary to make Henry -break off this unsuitable connection, -than to discover his noble origin to the -youth, and to exhibit before him his -great expectations in their full splendour. -He soon found, that real love -makes the heart consider all obstacles as -trifles, and believe every thing is possible -except abandoning the object, to -whom its adoration is vowed.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Henry of Montfort continued to love -that Rosanna, to whom Erwin Melthal -had sworn eternal fidelity: Ida, Countess -of Werdenberg, (to whom her real -birth was discovered about the same -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>period) preserved her attachment to the -humble peasant, to whom Rosanna Tell -had pledged her hand and her affections. -Each had been sworn to secrecy; -both concealed the painful mystery -in their respective bosoms; but -neither suffered a day to pass without -repeating the assurance of fidelity beyond -the grave, though both were -secretly conscious, how mighty were the -obstacles which opposed their keeping -that assurance.</p> - -<p class='c017'>They were separated. The Emperor’s -commands summoned Henry to the -army; and the old Melthal thought, -that in the present position of things a -slight falsehood would be justified by -the intention, with which it was fabricated.—Accordingly, -a report was soon -circulated, that his grandson Erwin had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>fallen at the siege of Bender. It obtained -universal credit; and Ida, (for -whose sole use the artifice had been -designed) doubted not, that her lover -had perished on the field of glory. <i>One</i> -person however (and that to his great -mortification) was assured of the inaccuracy -of the report. No sooner had -Henry left Helvetia, than Melthal set -out for the Castle of Montfort; he -made known to the astonished Count, -that his nephew was still in existence, -and spared neither persuasions nor -threats to induce the old usurper to reinstate -the true heir in his rights and -titles.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Threats and persuasions from the -mouth of a man of sense and probity -came with a force, that few villains -however hardened are able to resist -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>entirely. Count Egbert trembled in the -presence of his venerable monitor; and -he presumed not to give him such a -reply, as he would willingly have done, -had he followed his heart’s instigations. -He answered him with fair promises and -professions, the trusting to which cost -the poor old man many a painful journey; -till at length highly exasperated at -having been made so long the dupe of -his soft words and endless delays, he -assumed a tone of such authority, as -almost frightened the trembling usurper -out of his senses, and made him solemnly -swear to lose no time in acknowledging -the claims of his nephew. Unluckily, -this scene agitated Melthal so violently, -that the consequence was an illness, -which soon carried him to his grave. -Count Egbert did not let slip so good an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>opportunity of annihilating the hopes -of Henry; he easily persuaded the unconscious -heirs of old Melthal to give -up to him the papers, which attested his -nephew’s birth, and which, (as they -seemed to relate entirely to the Montfort -family), they made no doubt, were -(as he asserted) his own peculiar property -and no concern of any other -person’s.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Now then who was so happy as the -crafty Egbert? in the full exultation of -triumph he was persuaded, that the -papers which he lost no time in committing -to the flames, were the only -proofs of his nephew’s existence. But -in this respect he was deceived. When -Henry departed for the army, Melthal -charged him to seize the first favourable -opportunity of laying his case before -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>the emperor; for which purpose he -furnished him with the authentic documents -of his real birth, and those which -fell into Count Egbert’s hands were -nothing more valuable than mere copies. -The favourable opportunity, of which -Melthal had spoken, was not tardy in -arriving. At the siege of Bender Henry -behaved with such distinguished gallantry -as to make it the general opinion, -that if all his companions had performed -their duty as well, the victory would -have been wrested from the hands of -the infidels.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The emperor was not the last to applaud -his gallant demeanour. He commanded -him to name a reward; and -Henry demanded to be re-instated in -those rights, to which he could establish -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>his claim by proofs, that would set all -doubt at defiance.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“I do not wish,” said he, “that -my uncle’s conduct towards me should -undergo too nice an examination; nor -during his lifetime do I insist, that my -inheritance should be restored to me. -I only demand for the present to be -acknowledged as a descendant of the -house of Montfort, and for the future -to be protected in obtaining those advantages, -to which I may be able to -substantiate a lawful claim.—I am not -desirous of expelling the old Count -from the station, which he has so long -occupied; I only demand, that when -his death shall leave that station vacant, -I may succeed to that, which in justice -is my birth right.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>The Emperor Albert, who was already -aware that under the administrations -of the debauched Venceslaus, and the -careless Sigismund (his immediate predecessors) -much partiality had taken -place in settling the affairs of the Montfort -family, and who besides wished -most anxiously to serve his favourite -in every point that was not repugnant -to justice, heard the above declaration -with pleasure, and praised the youthful -warrior’s generosity. Albert himself -was generous, and it delighted him, -when others acted, as <i>he</i> would have -acted himself.</p> - -<p class='c017'>On the next day Henry was declared -by the emperor to be a Count of -Montfort, and was allotted a command -suitable to his high rank and distinguished -services. This change of name -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>contributed to support the erroneous -belief, that Erwin Melthal had never been -heard of since the battle of Bender, and -that in all probability he had fallen in the -field. Ida therefore was sorrowing for -his loss at the very moment, that he was -hastening back to the beloved valley, -crowned with laurels, and determined to -share with her his honours and his happiness.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Alas! that beloved valley was no -longer to be recognised! dreadful storms -had laid it waste; the mountain-torrents -had deluged the country; and -when he at length with difficulty -had reached Tell’s habitation, he found -it silent and empty—the dreadful pestilence, -which had more than decimated -the unfortunate inhabitants of those -quarters, had raged with peculiar fury -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>in the house of Tell; but he was informed, -that a remnant of the family -had taken refuge (so at least it was -rumoured) in the Convent of Engelberg. -Thither Henry repaired without loss of -time, but he found no one capable of -giving him either present comfort or -future hope. His apprehensions were -converted into despair, when in reply -to his enquiries Tell’s humble grave -was pointed out to him, and when he -beheld near it two smaller graves, -which (he was assured) contained the -bodies of two of the old man’s grand-daughters. -It is probable, that this assurance -was given not without foundation, -for several of the grand-children of -Tell had followed him to Engelberg, and -had there fallen a prey to the inveteracy -of the prevalent disease.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>The wretched Henry was thoroughly -convinced, that the bones of Ida and -Constantia rested within those smaller -graves. He knelt beside them; he -watered them with his tears, and abandoned -himself to the most violent emotions -of anguish, which love and despair -ever excited in the heart of man. -It was long, before he attained any -degree of composure; and he employed -the first hour, in which his heart was -sensible of a melancholy resignation, in -hastening to the Convent, and requesting -to know every particular respecting -the death of the lovely sisters. He wished -also to enquire, why they had interred -in the open church-yard the bodies of -those angels, whose virtues should have -obtained for their tomb the most distinguished -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>spot to be found within the -Convent’s sanctuary.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The high-sounding title of “Count -Henry of Montfort” obtained for him -an easy admission into the Convent-parlour; -but he derived no benefit from -his visit to Engelberg. The old Abbess, -who had superintended the Convent -during Constantia’s residence, had paid -the debt of nature. The present superior -was totally ignorant of the history of -the sisters; and she could not help -secretly suspecting, that the young-warrior’s -understanding was not quite as -sound as it should have been, when -with considerable impetuosity he demanded -as a matter of right, that the -grand-daughters of a common peasant, -who had conferred on the institution -neither wealth nor honour, should be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>alloted a tomb in the Chapel of St. -Engeltruda!</p> - -<p class='c017'>Henry was at length made to understand, -that Ida’s remains appeared to -be sacred relics in no eyes but those of -her lover: the only comfort, which he -now felt himself capable of enjoying, -was to honour <i>her</i> in death, whom in -life he had adored so truly: accordingly -the greatest part of the wealth, which -he had earned in the Turkish wars, was -expended in raising a stately monument -to Ida’s memory in the Chapel of Engelberg. -He burned with impatience -to see (united with those of the fair -sisters) his own name engraved on the -monument’s white marble, as being -that of the person by whose directions -it was raised; and he declared, that -his heart could never taste repose, till -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>the work should be completed, and till -the bones of Mary and Rosanna Tell -(for such he still thought them) were -removed to the honourable burial-place -provided for them by his affection. -While the tomb was erecting, nothing -could persuade him to quit the holy -place even for a day; and the whole -neighbourhood was lost in astonishment -at the homage, which the Count of -Montfort thought it necessary to pay -to the relics of Tell’s daughters.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Nothing was able to rouse him from -that dangerous melancholy, to which -he abandoned himself without reserve, -till the emperor’s commands necessitated -his attendance. He arrived at Grans, -and found, that while he had been -giving up everything for the indulgence -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>of unavailing sorrow, his exalted protector -had not been equally unmindful of -his favourite’s worldly interests. The old -Count of Montfort had been summoned -to the imperial court; where he was made -so fully aware of the favourable posture -of Henry’s affairs, and was so thoroughly -convinced, that to deny the authenticity -of his claims would be fruitless, that -his nephew no sooner made his appearance, -than he came towards him with -open arms, and embraced him as his -relation and his presumptive heir. He -was then preparing to offer some excuse -for past transactions, which in their -very nature were totally inexcuseable; -but the young Count interrupted his -apologies, freely forgave him, and in -presence of the emperor assured his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>uncle, that he might depend upon his -burying his wrongs in silence and oblivion.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Still, when the arrangements respecting -Henry’s succession to the Lordship -of Montfort came under consideration, -Count Egbert earnestly insisted, that -two or three clauses should be introduced, -in order that the future heirs -of his body might not be left entirely -destitute. Henry could not conceal a -smile, while he acceded to this proposal, -and the rest of the company indulged -themselves without scruple in a -loud burst of laughter; for the old man -was still unprovided with either wife -or children, though there was scarcely -to be found in all Germany a lady of -beauty, birth, and fortune, whom he had -not honoured with the offer of his -hand and heart.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>On the other hand, Henry, whose age -would have suited much better with -such proposals, seemed not to bestow -a thought upon the subject: amidst the -throng of lovely women who graced -the court, his heart remained cold as -the marble, which covered the imagined -ashes of his loved and lamented Rosanna. -But the emperor was not equally indifferent, -respecting his young friend’s -contracting some honourable engagement.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Montfort,” said he, “I flatter -myself, that I have omitted no means -of substantiating your claims, which -lay in my imperial power: but fraud -and avarice will frequently suggest such -ingenious expedients for eluding the -execution of justice, that (should I die -before your uncle) you might still find -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>it no easy task to obtain possession of -your inheritance. While therefore I -am still in existence and able to serve -you, unite yourself by marriage with -some powerful family, whose connection -may support your claims, when -death shall have deprived you of my -favour and protection.—Your enemies -then will not dare to dispute your rights. -Tell me, Henry; is the indifference, -with which you seem to look on the -beauties of my court, real or affected?—If -your heart has not as yet made its -choice, suffer me to mention to you -the bride of <i>my</i> selection.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Henry’s reply assured him with great -truth, that there existed not a woman, -who possest any interest in his affections.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Well then!” resumed the emperor, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>“take my advice, and offer your -hand to the beautiful Elizabeth of -March, the jewel of all our German -maidens: in her you will find united -youth, charms, spirit, sense, piety, and -virtue; besides a thousand other excellent -qualities, which are seldom to be -met with but in men. Her family too -is sufficiently powerful to secure you -against the attacks of malignity and -violence, to which you will probably be -exposed after my death; an event, -which increasing infirmities make me -believe to be at no great distance.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Henry had frequently seen and admired -the noble Elizabeth. In truth, it -was considered among the young courtiers -almost as a total want of taste, and -as a proof of a cold insensible heart, to -see Elizabeth and feel nothing warmer -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>than admiration. Henry (who could -make no reasonable objection to the -match proposed, and who was unwilling -to confess the fruitless passion, which -devoured his heart, for one who had -long since rested in the grave) could -only assert the improbability of his -obtaining Elizabeth’s hand in preference -to many suitors so much more distinguished -than himself; especially as -it was reported, that her hand was -already destined to the youthful Richard -of Ulmenhorst, her father’s ward and -near relation.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Tell not me,” interrupted the -emperor, “of those reports, and of -your own consciousness of your demerits. -Go to the Castle of March; -become acquainted with Elizabeth’s virtues, -as well as with her charms. I am -<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>certain, that you will love her; I flatter -myself, that <i>she</i> too will love <i>you</i>; and -what pleasure would it give me, dear -Henry, could I see your hands united, -before I close my eyes in this world for -ever!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>An interest so warm, and expressions -so condescending in the mouth of a -sovereign, could not but produce the -desired effect. Montfort obeyed, and -visited the Castle of March. He beheld -Elizabeth; he investigated her character; -she inspired him with esteem, with -admiration ... but not with love.—yet -it was soon evident ... (will the Countess -of Torrenburg ever pardon my assertion?) -that Elizabeth had not seen Henry -with the same indifference. He felt, that -he was preferred; he could not but confess, -that the possession of such an -angel must be an inestimable treasure; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>and though the remembrance of Rosanna -rendered his heart incapable of -any warmer sentiment than friendship, -still since that beloved one was lost to -him for ever, he resolved not to let his -folly throw away the blessing, which -offered itself to his acceptance. He determined -to fulfill the emperor’s injunctions, -and to offer his hand to the -only woman, who was worthy to fill -Ida’s place in his heart. But he hesitated -so long, and took so much time -before he made his declaration, that Elizabeth’s -parents had already promised her -in the most solemn and positive manner -to the rich and powerful Count of -Torrenburg. In consequence, Montfort -was given to understand (though -with every possible mark of esteem) -that his absence from the Castle of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>March would be acceptable to its -owner.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Grieved and vexed at his having so -long delayed to explain himself, Henry -departed; the heart of Elizabeth accompanied -him. Count Egbert had never -seemed very anxious for his nephew’s -marriage, nor had given himself any -trouble, in order to forward his views -upon Elizabeth: the fact was, that in -spite of the ill success of his former matrimonial -speculations, he was at that moment -totally engrossed by a new scheme -of the same nature; and the person, -to whom his views were now directed, -was no other than ... the Lady Ida of -Werdenberg. He was not only enchanted -by her personal charms, but he -also took it into his consideration, that -after the Count of Torrenburg’s death -<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>she would possess very plausible claims -upon the valuable domains of Carlsheim -and Sargans; claims, which (as the -possibility of his own death was an -idea, which never by any accident was -suffered to enter into his calculations) -this silly old man proposed to enforce -in their fullest extent.</p> - -<p class='c017'>He had already given the Count of -Torrenburg some hints of the honour, -which he had it in contemplation to -confer upon his family. The Count in -return gave him to understand, that -if his niece had no objection to the -match, he should not oppose it: and as -the old dotard thought himself irresistible -in spite of former disappointments -(which might have taught him better) -he was on the very point of surprizing -Ida with the agreeable intelligence, that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>she had made a conquest of his heart. -It was at this juncture, that the news -reached him of his destined uncle’s -being on the brink of marriage with -the Lady Elizabeth of March.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Nothing could be more contrary to -his plans, than this intelligence; Count -Frederick of Torrenburg might have -children, and then there would be an -end of all his claims in right of his -bride, whom he loved not merely as -the beautiful Ida of Werdenberg, but -as the future co-heiress of Carlsheim -and Sargans. Now then he had nothing -more at heart, than to break off this -inconvenient marriage. To accomplish -this, no better means suggested itself, -than to persuade his nephew to a renewal -of his addresses to the intended -bride; and since her hand was no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>longer to be obtained by the ordinary -methods of solicitation, he resolved to -have recourse to a little innocent artifice, -which (he doubted not) would -soon bring the young people to -a proper understanding. Aware, that -Henry was not likely to enforce his -suit with as much eagerness as the -nature of the case required, the uncle -in his zeal for his nephew’s advantage, -or rather for the success of his own -interested views, resolved to examine -himself into the state of Elizabeth’s -inclinations, and to place Henry’s attachment -to her in the most favourable -light. He found the unhappy girl in -tears; the day was already fixed, on -which her hand was to be united with -that of the dreaded Count of Torrenburg. -It was no difficult task to make -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>her confess her disinclination to her -antient bridegroom, and her preference -for the blooming Montfort, on whom -her heart had long fixed its affections -irrevocably. She also listened without -any <i>very</i> marked signs of repugnance -to the proposal of an elopement. Her -heart and her reason both assured her, -that to avoid the union which she so -much detested, flight was the only resource -left her: her friend Ida had -advised her adopting it without delay; -and now the same proposal was made -to her from a quarter the most unexpected. -Elizabeth was at length persuaded -by the pressing entreaties of -Count Egbert to summon to her aid -the youth, who (as she was assured by -his uncle) burned for her with the -most ardent affection, and to whom -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>her union with his rival would undoubtedly -give a mortal wound.</p> - -<p class='c017'>She wrote to Henry, and declared herself -ready to throw herself upon his protection. -This important step was taken -by Elizabeth through anxiety and affection, -approved of by Ida out of friendship -and ignorance of the world, and -advised by the old hypocrite Count -Egbert for the sake of his own private -interest. As to Henry himself, he was -perfectly ignorant of all that was going -forward, till he received Elizabeth’s -letter: but what man with the feelings -of humanity alive in his bosom would -have disobeyed the voice of an angel -like Elizabeth, pleading for aid, and -confessing her attachment? compassion, -esteem, admiration, and gratitude, all -united to produce a sentiment in his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>heart which, if not love, was at least -very like it; a sentiment, which doubtless -would soon have been love itself, -had not unfortunately.... Oh! lady, -you for whom I trace these lines, and -for whose decision (when my task is -done) I shall wait with such anxiety, -this is a chasm, which I leave to be -filled up by <i>you</i>!</p> - -<p class='c017'>Elizabeth disappeared—the lovers -were overtaken—the Count of Torrenburg, -when the circumstances were all -made known to him, resigned his pretensions -with a good grace. The entreaties -of Elizabeth’s brother, and some -little apprehension lest her reputation -should suffer injury by this elopement, -induced her parents to withdraw their -opposition to her union with young -Montfort. The marriage-day arrived: -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>Ida flew to congratulate her friend; -and instead of the enamoured bridegroom -and the happy bride, she beheld -Erwin Melthal stretched pale and senseless -at the feet of the alarmed and astonished -Elizabeth. As Elizabeth saw -Henry’s colour change, she sprang towards -him, and clasped his hand. Hastily -he drew it back with a look of -horror, sank on the ground, and closed -his eyes as if to eternal slumber.</p> - -<p class='c017'>She now turned to Ida, who (supported -by her sister) appeared more -dead than living: she demanded the -meaning of this extraordinary scene. -Terror and astonishment sealed up the -lips of Ida; and Constantia also was -silent through doubt, whether an explanation -just then would be adviseable.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“A strange instance of love at first -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>sight!” whispered to her next neighbour, -a virgin aunt of Elizabeth’s aged -forty-seven.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“And mutual too, as it seems!” -replied the plump dowager, to whom -this audible whisper had been addrest.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ha! at those words how high swelled -the proud bosom of Elizabeth! How -fiery was the glance like lightning, which -she threw upon Ida, as she turned away! -How contemptuous was the look, with -which she eyed young Montfort, in -whom the care of his servants had just -produced some faint signs of returning -animation. Her impetuous spirit had -always rendered her too susceptible of -sudden and violent passion, and (to -confess the truth) had already betrayed -her into the commission of many a hasty -and ill-judged action. Without waiting -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>for further explanation she rushed out -of the chapel, while her eyes flashed fire -as she went. She was followed by all -those, who envied the sisters; and who -were now resolved to devote a day, long -destined to happiness, to the nourishment -of suspicion and resentment; and -who were prepared to use their utmost -arts to render the wounds lately given to -love and friendship incurable.</p> - -<p class='c017'>I will not attempt to describe the -state of Ida’s mind. Constantia (who, -though not more able to unravel the -mystery of these unexpected occurrences, -was yet more collected than her -sister) judged it prudent for them to -withdraw as soon as possible from the -curious gaze of the by-standers. Accordingly, -she conducted the bewildered -Ida to her apartment, and then hastened -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>to that of the bride, in order that, she -might at once offer explanations and -receive them in return. She had not -yet sufficiently recovered from her first -astonishment to conceive, how strong -an impression to her sister’s prejudice the -scene, which had just taken place, must -have made upon Elizabeth: much less did -she suppose it possible, that her friend -could act so unjustly as to show resentment -against herself for an action, which -(even if wrong) had at any rate been -committed by another.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Her surprise therefore was great, -when she was refused admittance to -Elizabeth, with every mark of harshness -and indignation.—She returned sorrowing -from her fruitless embassy; and she -had scarcely regained her own apartment, -before a Chamberlain made his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>appearance there to inform the sisters in -the name of the Lord of the Castle, that -in consequence of Elizabeth’s sudden -indisposition, and of the late confusion -(the cause of which was too well known -to them to make any explanation on -that head necessary) it would be adviseable -for them immediately to quit a -house, in which certainly no bridal ceremony -would be celebrated at present.</p> - -<p class='c017'>In the mean while, Henry on opening -his eyes cast his first glances eagerly -towards the spot, where he fancied, that -the spirits of Tell’s grand-daughters had -appeared to him; they were no longer -to be seen. He was now confirmed in -his visionary notions, and implicitly -believed, that he had really seen an -apparition.—He inquired for Elizabeth: -the answer was, that she had quitted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>the chapel evidently in displeasure; very -little reflection was necessary to make -him aware, that the singular part which -he had just been playing, made it necessary -for him to hasten to his bride without -delay, and explain the cause of his mysterious -behaviour. While approaching -her chamber, he considered with himself, -whether it would, or would not, be -adviseable to inform her of the vision, -which had just appeared to him, and to -lay open to her the secret history of his -early life! His deliberations, however, -were quite superfluous; for he was -denied admittance to Elizabeth with no -less positiveness and contempt, than had -been shown on Constantia’s application.</p> - -<p class='c017'>He felt, that Elizabeth had some reason -to think herself insulted; and instead -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>of repaying her scorn with scorn, -he lost no time in justifying himself in -the eyes of his offended mistress.—A -personal interview was denied him; the -explanation therefore could only be -conveyed in writing; but Henry was -not sufficiently an adept in penmanship -to permit his finishing so long an apology -with as much expedition, as the -nature of the case made desirable. He -resolved therefore to employ a secretary; -and as upon inquiry no ready writer -was to be found in the whole Castle -except the family Chaplain (whom I -have already mentioned as the secret -ally of Father Hilarius, and as being -entirely in the Count of Torrenburg’s -interests) he requested his assistance. -He might have chosen from among a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>thousand, and yet could not have confided -his affairs to a more improper -instrument. However, Henry dictated, -and the Friar wrote as follows.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span> - <h3 class='c018'><i>Henry to Elizabeth.</i></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c019'>You are offended, my beloved!—Nay, -even to myself it scarcely appears -credible, that when I stood with you -before the altar, I should have withdrawn -my hand from yours; that I should -have hesitated to pronounce the words, -which would have made you mine for -ever; that when you looked upon me -with eyes of love, I could have looked -on any other than on <i>you</i>.—No; this -never could have happened by natural -means; the enemies of our love must -have employed infernal arts to delude -my senses and interrupt my happiness!—What -past this evening in the Chapel -must certainly have been produced by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>magic; no otherwise can I account for -it!</p> - -<p class='c017'>Elizabeth, my heart was once another’s: -my heart would <i>still</i> have been -another’s, had not death torn her from -me. But my Rosanna has long been -an angel in Heaven; the truth which I -swore to her, and which (while she had -life) I never would have violated, could -not surely extend beyond the precincts -of the grave. Surely that happy-one, -to whom now all things must be known, -must also know, in what degree I once -loved <i>her</i>, and in what degree I now -love Elizabeth: Surely, she cannot envy -you, my beloved, the hand of your poor -Henry; surely, she would not forsake -her own mansions of peace and bliss, to -forbid our union and destroy our hopes -of happiness?</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>And yet, Elizabeth...! Mark, -my beloved, and conceive my astonishment, -my horror!—And yet, Elizabeth, -I swear to you most solemnly, that this -evening as you stood at the altar, I saw -the form of the long-deceased Rosanna -Tell approach, and place the myrtle -wreath upon your forehead; while by -her side stood a second apparition in a -religious habit, the exact resemblance -of Mary, Rosanna’s sister, who is buried -with her in the same tomb!</p> - -<p class='c017'>But strange as this circumstance appears, -let it not disturb your tranquillity, -my Elizabeth, nor prevent an union, -on which I depend for all the happiness -of my future life. If the spirit of Rosanna -<i>really</i> appeared, she came not to -destroy the bliss of the man who adored -her, but to give her celestial sanction: -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>but for my own part, I am persuaded, -that this appearance was some illusion, -some contrivance of those who envy us, -some magical appearance produced by -monastic arts in the night and secrecy -of the Cloister.—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Beloved Elizabeth, admit me to your -presence, and every point shall be explained -most fully. At present I must -break off, for the person (whose pen I -employ to trace these lines) has taken -offence at an expression which accidentally -escaped me, and refuses any longer -to render me his services.</p> - -<hr class='c020' /> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>In truth, Henry’s ecclesiastical secretary -was greatly displeased at the words -“monastic arts:” however, an apology -and some pieces of gold not only brought -the avaricious Monk into good-humour -again, but even induced him to offer to -be the bearer of his letter, in case the -young Lord of Montfort should still -think proper to send it, after hearing -what he (the Monk) had to say upon -the subject.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Henry gave him permission to speak, -and promised to be attentive.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“You believe then,” began Father -Jacob, “that the form, whose appearance -so greatly surprized you in the -Chapel belonged to a deceased person?—Count -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>of Montfort, it was the living -Rosanna, Tell whom you beheld; Rosanna -who has now exchanged that -name for the more lofty one of Ida of -Werdenberg—You start?—You believe -what I tell you to be impossible?—Nay, -Count, with all my heart! Number -<i>me</i> (if you like it) among those, who -wish to impede you in the gratification -of your new amours: it would be ill-breeding -in me to force upon you the -conviction of a truth, to which you -are evidently so unwilling to give -credit!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>The crafty Friar rose, as if about to -quit the apartment. It is superfluous to -say, that Henry (whose head was now -assailed by astonishment from a new -quarter) did not suffer him to depart.—Father -Jacob possest the whole of Ida’s -history, except in so far as related to her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>adventure with Erwin Melthal: he refused -to communicate any portion of his -knowledge, till this hitherto unsuspected -circumstance had been fully explained to -him. This demand was complied with, -every circumstance was confided to him; -and with astonishing quickness he discerned -in this narrative the means of attaining -an object, which he and his honest -ally, the keeper of Count Frederick’s conscience, -had very nearly at heart, but -which they had found themselves compelled -to abandon in despair.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Montfort had finished.—And now -the Monk exerted all his eloquence to -convince his auditor of that, which -Henry’s heart was already most anxious -to believe; namely, that his first oaths -of love ought to be the most binding; -that it was no less necessary to keep his -faith to Ida of Werdenberg than to Rosanna -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>Tell; and that his giving that -hand to Elizabeth, which he had sworn -to give to another, would only serve to -form an union unjust, sinful, abominable, -and accursed.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Henry was quite of the Monk’s opinion, -long before his oration came to an -end. Of much more consequence did -it now appear to him to renew his vows -to the long-lost late-found Ida, than to -appease the indignation of the offended -Elizabeth. Joy and anxiety almost -bereft him of understanding. The -Monk was commissioned to procure for -him an immediate interview with Ida; -and when Father Jacob returned to him -with the information, that an hour had -already elapsed, since the Damsels of -Werdenberg departed from the Castle, -he forgot (in his impatience to rejoin -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>his mistress) so completely all ideas of -propriety, of consideration for the feelings -of his bride, and of the misconstructions -to which he was making his -conduct liable, that without farther -deliberation he sprang upon his courser, -and pursued the way, which the Monk -pointed out to him as that, by which he -might the most speedily overtake the -sisters. In the hurry of his enthusiastic -affection, he forgot every thing else; -he left no apology for the Count of -March; no explanation for Elizabeth; -he even neglected to remind the Monk -to deliver his letter, or to desire him to -clear up the mystery of his conduct.</p> - -<p class='c017'>In fact, Father Jacob had other business -upon his hands, than to extenuate -Montfort’s offence in the eyes of Elizabeth. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>Immediately on the youth’s -departure, he lost no time in transmitting -the following letter to the family-priest -of Torrenburg.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span> - <h3 class='c018'><i>Father Jacob to Father Hilarius.</i></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c019'>Before this letter can reach you, -doubtless the occurrences of this evening -will be already known to you: but -learn from me some circumstances, -which are as yet a secret to all but -myself and the principal actors in them.—Erwin -Melthal, that peasant youth on -whose perfections and on whose attachment -you have heard Ida dwell with -such enthusiasm, proves to be no other -than Henry of Montfort.—Elizabeth is -still ignorant of this previous acquaintance, -and must remain so: with the -sisters she is likely to have no immediate -intercourse, and by my management -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>Henry has left the Castle of March in -pursuit of Ida; though to gain time, I -thought it prudent to give him a false -direction, and he is now upon the road -to the half-ruined Fortress, which the -Count of Torrenburg possesses in Thuringia.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Let your patron lose no time in hastening -hither—I will take care, that he -shall find the family disposed to consider -his renewed proposals as a most honourable -and fortunate event; and I doubt -not, in the first tumult of her passions, -of disappointed love, violated friendship, -and raging jealousy, Elizabeth may -be easily persuaded to an union, which -will make her mistress of that rival’s -fate, to whose pernicious beauty she -ascribes the loss of her own promised -happiness.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>Be assured, it will be greatly both for -your advantage and for mine, that -Elizabeth should become Count Frederick’s -wife. He is advanced in years; -it is highly improbable, that he should -have children; and a rich bequest is -already secured to our convent in the -event of his dying without legitimate -descendants. On the other hand, -should he remain unmarried, there is -every probability of his acknowledging -the Damsels of Werdenberg as -his heiresses; a step, which would ruin -all our hopes for ever, but which (you -may depend upon it) he will never be -suffered to take, if the jealous and incensed -Elizabeth becomes Countess of -Torrenburg.</p> - -<p class='c017'>With regard to these hated girls, -whose intrusion is so greatly adverse to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>our interests, no means must be neglected -for expelling them from their -guardian’s house and favour. As to -Constantia, I look upon her as little -dangerous, being (to judge by every -appearance) entirely devoted to a religious -life: it would therefore be -unnecessary to molest her, were not -her fate so closely connected with her -sister’s, that it is impossible to separate -the one from the other. But it is -against Ida that all your skill must be -directed.—Doubtless, Elizabeth’s letters -are still in her possession—Seize them, -either by art or violence, it matters not -which: they must necessarily contain -matter sufficient to convince Count -Frederick, that it was by her advice, -that her friend was persuaded to elope -from him with young Montfort: he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>will look upon her as the traverser of -his views upon Elizabeth, and that will -be sufficient to banish her from his -favour—this will be greatly confirmed -by the appearance of the sisters at Elizabeth’s -wedding, which he cannot but -consider as highly disrespectful to himself -and his feelings; but you must -carefully conceal from him, that Ida confined -in the solitude of Torrenburg -Castle, and Constantia buried in the -silence of her Convent, were both ignorant -of the rejected lover’s name till -after their arrival at the Castle of -March. The Count is noble-minded; -but he is proud, irascible, easily induced -to believe the worst of those who surround -him, and obstinate in retaining -prejudices once received—these are the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>parts of his character, upon which it -must be your care to work, till you -have kindled a flame against Ida in his -bosom, which all her tears will be unable -to extinguish. On the other hand, you -must assail Ida with terrors of her uncle’s -indignation, and with threats of an -immediate union with her superannuated -admirer, Count Egbert: and when you -have terrified her sufficiently to prevent -her conduct from being regulated by -her understanding, assure her, that there -is no way of avoiding Count Frederick’s -wrath and old Montfort’s marriage-bed, -except flight from the Castle of -Torrenburg.—That step once taken, Ida -is ruined; Constantia may easily be -convicted of participation in her sister’s -actions; the ungrateful girls will be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>banished from their uncle’s favour irrevocably, -and then the game will be all -our own.—Farewell, and let me hear -from you with all diligence.</p> - -<hr class='c020' /> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>The unconscious subject of these -abominable artifices was in the mean -while journeying homewards with a -heavy heart, doubly afflicted by the -injustice of her friend, and the supposed -perfidy of her lover. She had ascertained -no more before her departure -from the Castle of March, than that the -man, whom she had so long believed to -be a peasant’s son, was Count Henry of -Montfort; but it still remained unexplained, -how Henry could have so totally -forgotten his former vows, and have -offered his hand to another. The more -that she reflected, the less reason did -there appear to doubt, that upon discovering -his own noble origin he had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>abandoned all thoughts of an union -with the low-born daughter of William -Tell. In the opinion of love this fault -was not to be excused; she in some -degree obtained a forced tranquillity by -resolving, that his conduct had rendered -him totally unworthy of her; and that -even should the inconstant Henry return -to her chains, it would be beneath Ida of -Werdenberg to accept that hand, which -he had insolently withdrawn from the -humble Rosanna Tell.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Constantia accompanied her sister for -some part of her journey, but was at -length unwillingly compelled to separate -from her and return to her convent, -attended by the vassals whom the Abbess -of Zurich had sent for her protection. -Ida reached her guardian’s Castle -without meeting any adventure; but a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>mistake of her attendants occasioned -her to go considerably out of her road, -and this delay gave time for Father -Jacob’s letter to precede her at the -Castle of Torrenburg. Father Hilarius -lost no time in searching for Elizabeth’s -letters; he found them, and found them -also such, as he wished. Some, which -would have exculpated Ida, and made -against Elizabeth, he committed to the -flames, and then lost no time in communicating -the rest to his patron.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Count Frederick had returned home -on Elizabeth’s bridal day, which he intended -to pass with his niece in silent -melancholy. He had resolved to inquire -into her character with more attention, -than he had done hitherto; and as his -late disappointment had made him give -up all thoughts of marriage for himself, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>it was his intention to declare that the -damsels of Werdenberg were his future -heiresses, in case they should prove to -deserve so great a distinction.</p> - -<p class='c017'>On his arrival he inquired for Ida; -he was informed, that she was gone to -the wedding of the young Countess -of March.—He started in astonishment, -and father Hilarius shook his head with -a smile. Frederick enquired, how the -girl could have ventured to take a -step, which he could not but look upon -as a marked token of disrespect? or if -she were ignorant of his having payed -his addresses to Elizabeth, why had -not father Hilarius prevented her from -unconsciously offering him this public -affront? the worthy Chaplain shrugged -his shoulders, and answered that—“Good-lack! -he was too old and too -<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>simple to look after a young wanton -girl with the devil (heaven bless us!) -in her head.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“She slipped away,” continued -he, “without saying a word of her intention -to me, or to any one—and as to -her <i>ignorance</i> of your adresses.... -Blessed St. Barnabas! she knew much -more about them, than I did myself!—Why, -my lord, I have just discovered, -that she has long kept up a secret -correspondence with the Lady Elizabeth; -and I can bring you the most undeniable -proofs, that you would at this moment -have been happy in the possession of -your bride, had it not been for Ida, -for the self created heiress of Torrenburg; -who instigated her innocent -friend to refuse your hand; who fooled -her into an imaginary passion for young -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>Montfort; and when she had entangled -the poor Elizabeth too closely in this -intrigue to admit of her retreating with -honour, who finally persuaded her to -adopt the disgraceful measure of an -elopement.—Yet to say truth, there is -some excuse for Ida’s conduct, since -she could not but heartily wish to prevent -a marriage so extremely detrimental -to her own views and interests.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Frederick heard every word with -increasing amazement. In a voice of -fury he demanded, that the proofs, of -which the Monk had spoken, should be -instantly produced.—Father Hilarius -then gave Elizabeth’s letters into his -hand, accompanying them with some -reflections on the danger of teaching -women the art of writing; at the same -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>time reminding the Count, how strenuously -and how frequently he had represented -to him, that in the hands of -so forward a girl as Ida, there could -not possibly be a more dangerous instrument -than a pen; and that to leave -her to the full as ignorant as he found -her, was an object most desirable both -for the Count and for herself.—But his -remonstrances had been disregarded; -Ida was taught to write; and now see -the blessed effects of it!</p> - -<p class='c017'>Elizabeth’s hand was not to be mistaken; -and while the Count gazed -upon the writing so well known to him, -the malicious Priest inflamed his resentment -still further by relating various -passages of Ida’s early life, to which -he well knew how to give that colouring, -which suited best with his designs; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>he related, how during the time that -she was believed to be Tell’s grand-daughter, -Ida had greatly shocked her -companions by her free and dissolute -manners; he proceeded to state, that in -consequence her guardians had been -obliged to separate her from Constantia, -lest the one should be perverted by the -bad example of the other; that regret -at finding all his efforts to reclaim her -in vain, had broken the heart of her -adopted father, and sent him with -sorrow to his grave: that she had -carried on an intrigue with a man of -low birth, to whom she was still attached; -and that in all probability it -was her intention to enrich this peasant -with the valuable inheritance, which -she expected to derive from Count -Frederick’s bounty.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>—“And then” continued Father -Hilarius, casting a malicious side-glance -upon Ida’s claims; “and then how -easy will it be for the young fellow to -vamp up some fine story of an unexpected -discovery, and of a relationship -to some illustrious family long concealed, -and thus qualify himself for -assuming openly the proud name of -<i>Count of Torrenburg</i>, in right of his wife, -her generous uncle’s heiress!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>The Count bit his lip: yet after a -long silence he answered, that Ida’s -parentage and claims admitted of no -doubt; and that he wished most heartily, -that she were any other person, in -order that in pronouncing his judgement -upon her conduct, she might have -been entitled to less consideration and -respect.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>—“But in spite of all her faults,” said -he, “I cannot deal harshly with a person, -who is the daughter of my deceased -friend, and of the woman whom I once -adored. Yet on the other hand, such -mean artifices, such acts of interested -baseness, of such flagrant ingratitude, -ought not to escape without due punishment.—Ida -has destroyed the happiness, -which I promised myself in marriage; -it will be no more than a just vengeance, -if I destroy hers in return.—Should -she fail to exculpate herself, she shall -either be immured for life within the -walls of a Cloister, or give her hand -without delay to the old Count of -Montfort, from whom I this morning -received proposals for her hand.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>When he pronounced this sentence, -the Count was standing in an open -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>balcony: as the last words fell from his -lips, he saw Ida with her attendants riding -slowly towards the Castle. He hastily -drew back; and feeling, that he was at -that time too much incensed to give -her cause an impartial hearing, he -ordered Father Hilarius to fill his place—the -Friar exulted at this command: -he knew well the generosity of his -patron’s nature, and dreaded that irresistible -conviction, which ever accompanies -the pleading of injured innocence: -he therefore heard with Great -satisfaction, that the cause was not to -be tried by a judge, the goodness of -whose own heart would naturally incline -him to the side of mercy, justice, -and compassion.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ida had scarcely divested herself of -her bridal robes, when a procession -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>entered her chamber composed of the -chief officers of the Count’s household, -and headed by the reverend Father -Hilarius. The formal manner of their -entrance, and the gravity which reigned -in every countenance, were alone sufficient -to communicate to her mind -some degree of confusion and alarm.—How -greatly were these emotions increased, -when the Chaplain began his -examination, which was preceded by a -terrible description of her guardian’s -anger, and which consisted of questions -so artfully worded, that taken by surprize -and bewildered as she was, she -found herself constrained either to return -no answers at all, or such as were -apparently to her disadvantage.—Sensible -of this at length, she entreated, -that time might be allowed her for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>recollection: the greatest part of her -auditors were well inclined to the poor -suppliant, and felt for her the most -sincere compassion. The Monk therefore -did not dare to act towards her -with all the harshness, to which his -heart prompted him; the further examination -of this affair was postponed -to three hours after sunrise of the next -day, and Ida was left alone.</p> - -<p class='c017'>It was midnight.—Ida sat weeping, -while a variety of unpleasant images -crowded before her imagination, and -retraced the many singular and painful -transactions, of which that day had been -a witness. Interesting as had been the -events which took place at the Castle of -March, still her mind was most occupied -by those more recent ones, which surprized -her at her return home.—“Her -guardian Elizabeth’s rejected bridegroom.”—“Herself -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>accused of having -broken off his marriage.”—“<i>Some</i> offences -laid to her charge, which were totally -incomprehensible.”—“<i>Others</i>, of which -she was conscious, that her unguarded -conduct had made her but too liable -to be suspected.”—“The Count’s -violent resentment.”—“His threats.”—“Expulsion -from the Castle of -Torrenburg.”—“The only choice, -allowed her, the cloister for life, -or an union with the decrepit Count -Egbert.”—Poor, poor Ida! how -wilt thou find a clue to guide thy -bewildered steps aright through such a -labyrinth of dangers!</p> - -<p class='c017'>Buried in these melancholy reflections, -she heard not the door unlocked, -by which her apartments communicated -with the public gallery.—At length a -hand gently removed the handkerchief, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>with which she had covered her face. -She looked up, and beheld Father -Hilarius.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Alas! my dear child,” said the -Friar, “what avails your weeping?—believe -me, your affairs are not in so ill a -state, as you may imagine; though I cannot -but confess, that appearances are -greatly against you. Your secret correspondence -with Elizabeth has been intercepted: -I have tried in vain to convince -your guardian, that you were ignorant -of his having any concern in the affair. -Then he looks on your presence at the -marriage, as a personal and designed -affront. It appears indeed from one of -her letters, that your friend herself was -in great doubt, whether you would accept -her invitation. At the very time -of her giving it, she pointed out the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>inconveniences of your coming; she -warned you, that you would incur -your uncle’s anger.... And yet in -defiance of this warning, you went!—As -to the confusion, which your presence -produced at the wedding, of that -we can make out nothing; you either -<i>will</i> not, or <i>can</i> not explain the mystery; -one thing only I can collect from -your account, which is, that you have -made a number of enemies there, who -will spare no pains to injure you, and -to prevent your innocence from being -made clear to the Count.—For that -you <i>are</i> innocent, I have no manner of -doubt; and I will venture to assert, -that in process of time.... But time -indeed, Heaven help us! that is exactly -what is refused you—the punishment -of your supposed offences will be immediate! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>the old Count of Montfort -arrived here not an hour ago; and -your guardian is determined, that to-morrow -shall decide the destiny of -your future life. Of your guilt he is -thoroughly persuaded, and you will be -compelled to-morrow to give your hand -to Count Egbert, if he will condescend -to accept it; or if the old man thinks -that your conduct has now made you -unworthy of such an honour, you will -be immediately confined for life in the -Convent of the Grey Penitents near -Count Frederick’s Thuringian Castle.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“And what then must be done?” -cried Ida, wringing her hands in fear -and agony.—“How can I escape so -dreadful a destiny?”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Escape?” repeated the Monk.—“Ha! -right! right! my dear child, it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>was surely Heaven, that inspired you -with the thought!—Yes! you must -escape; you must fly from the Castle of -Torrenburg!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Escape? fly?”—repeated the -bewildered Ida; “and whither must I -go?”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>“To a retreat,” replied the Monk, -“where you may wait in security, till -your uncle’s resentment is appeased, -and your innocence can be made clear -to him.—But you shall know more, as -we go along. I know a secret passage, -by which you may quit the Castle -unobserved. Follow me, for you have -not a moment to lose!—Nay, come, -come! away!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Thus saying, he caught the lamp -from the table with one hand, and -grasping Ida’s arm with the other, he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>drew her from the chamber.—Bewildered, -terrified, she had not presence -of mind sufficient to form a resolution; -and her exhausted frame was unable -to resist the force, with which he urged -her forwards, as she followed him -through the long galleries, rather passively -submitting, than wilfully consenting -to his design.</p> - -<p class='c017'>I formerly mentioned, that Count -Frederick still resided on the spot, -which had once been the habitation of -the antient Counts of Carlsheim and -Sargans. To this he had chiefly been -induced by the beauty of the situation: -perhaps too his pride was secretly gratified -by the recollection, that his residence -was the same with that, whence -his ancestors were accustomed to extend -the sceptre of command over the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>surrounding provinces, and to set at -defiance the resentment of many a -sovereign prince, who possest much -more lofty-sounding titles but much -less real power and strength.—Still the -gloomy, half-ruined Castle of Sargans -was by no means a mansion suited to -the taste of its modern possessor. Accordingly -he had levelled to the ground -the remains of a wing of this gigantic -pile, which had formerly been destroyed -by fire, and had erected in its place a -stately palace, at once noble in its external -form, and convenient in its interior -accommodations. This was called -the Castle of Torrenburg; while the -forsaken halls and towers of Sargans -were still distinguished by the name of -the “Donat-Fortress,” the two buildings -were separated by courts of considerable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>extent; the antient one was -in a great measure suffered to go to -ruin, except a few apartments which -were kept up for the accommodation of -domestics, when on solemn occasions -the number of guests was too great to -be received within the walls of the -Count’s own residence.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Superstition had not failed to extend -her dominion over the Donat-Fortress.—Traditions -respecting the former -Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans, -which had been handed down from -father to son, and with which you, -Elizabeth, are already well acquainted, -furnished subjects sufficient for a thousand -wonderful stories. In truth, the -prejudice, in favour of the opinion that -the ruins were haunted, was so prevalent, -that not merely among the Count’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>domestics, but even among the inhabitants -of the neighbouring villages numbers -of ghost-seers were to be found, -who had beheld at sundry times (and -with their own eyes) the spirits of -Ethelbert and Urania, of Donat, Helen, -and other traditionary personages, wandering -among those abandoned halls -and moss-grown towers; and they -augured either favourable or inauspicious -events to the reigning possessor, -according as the vision represented a -lady or a Monk, an innocent wife or -her haughty tyrant husband.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ida’s character is naturally extremely -timid, and she had not escaped the -contagion of superstitious terrors. It -was therefore with no slight emotion, -that she found her conductor taking -the way, which led to the ruins.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>—“Whither are you leading me?” -said she frequently, as she followed -him with trembling steps.—“Whither -are you leading me?” she again demanded -almost with a shriek; and as -she snatched her hand from the Friar’s, -her blood froze in her veins at perceiving, -that she had now past the last -of the separating courts, and stood -before the massy walls and lofty round -towers of the Donat-Fortress, whose -colossal portal seemed to stretch wide -its enormous jaws, as if for the purpose -of devouring her.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Father Hilarius was now compelled -to stop for a moment, and support his -fainting companion. She reclined her -head against his shoulder; and when -she had in some degree recovered her -spirits, she related to him, that happening -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>once to be standing in her balcony -at midnight, she had seen with her own -eyes the apparitions of two Monks -come out of the very gate, before -which they were at that moment standing; -that they went up to the old well -in the corner, whose mouth is overgrown -with moss and weeds, and there -they seemed to vanish; and that upon -relating what she had seen the next -morning, the old portress had related to -her a terrible history of two Monks -belonging to the Abbey of Curwald, -who were starved to death in a subterraneous -dungeon by the order of -one of the tyrant-counts of Carlsheim; -that their bones were buried in that -ruined well, in which Heaven’s retribution -had ordained, that the murderer -himself should perish; and that ever -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>since that time, the place had been -haunted by the ghosts of the two unfortunate -Friars.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Father Hilarius, who frequently made -use of the deserted fortress, when he had -any secret business to transact, could have -easily removed the miraculous part of -the appearances, which Ida had seen; -but it did not suit his plans to quiet -her anxiety by letting her into the -truth. He contented himself with -painting in the strongest colours the -dangers, which awaited her on her -return to the Count’s abode; and with -reminding her, that her only chance of -avoiding those dangers was an instantaneous -flight by means, whose terrors -were merely imaginary.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The priest, in spite of all his seeming -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>simplicity, was by no means deficient -in eloquence. His descriptions were so -lively, and his arguments came so home -to her feelings, that Ida was soon convinced, -that she could meet with no -ghost more terrible or more hideous -than the old Count of Montfort. She -therefore resolved to follow her guide -without further remonstrance, and only -requested that she might shut her eyes, -and clasp one of his hands with both -of hers in the form of a cross, which -holy sign (she doubted not) would -scare all evil spirits away. To this he -consented, and promised to inform her -when she should be arrived in a place -of safety, and might relieve herself -from this voluntary loss of sight.</p> - -<p class='c017'>As they proceeded, the Monk lighted -several torches of yellow wax, which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>were fastened at intervals against the -sides of a long passage, opening into a -large hall; he took the same precaution, -as he ascended a lofty marble -staircase; and as soon as he entered a -spacious saloon, he lost no time in -illuminating twelve large chandeliers of -brass, which were suspended from the -roof.—He now desired Ida to open her -eyes, and look round her.</p> - -<p class='c017'>He could not have pitched upon a -better method for dissipating Ida’s -fears of ghosts and goblins. Darkness -is the mother of causeless terror; with -the return of light, courage and confidence -return to the trembling heart. -The lamp, with which the Friar was -still busied in lighting the last chandelier, -assured her, that there was nothing -supernatural in the light, by which she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>found herself surrounded; and her -heart expanded with the agreeable impression, -produced upon her by this -sudden and unexpected splendour.</p> - -<p class='c017'>She had always pictured to herself -the Donat-Fortress, as the residence of -crows, bats, and screech-owls, a gloomy -chaos of dirt, and dust, and fragments -of moth-eaten furniture. How greatly -then was she surprized to find, that -though everything in truth was faded -and antiquated, yet nothing could be -more magnificent than the saloon, -which she was then examining. It was -hung with tapestry richly wrought and -adorned with pictures, on whose frames -gold and carving had been lavished -most profusely: and through the open -door she looked out upon the illuminated -marble staircase, and down the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>long gallery, whose vista of lights presented -an object at once noble and -agreeable. Father Hilarius advised her -to repose herself for a few minutes, and -conducted her to an elevated seat under -a canopy, which seemed like a throne.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“It was here,” said he “that the -antient lords of the ten jurisdictions were -accustomed to receive the homage of -their vassals, while that anti-chamber -was thronged with their knights and -retainers; and it was from yonder side-chambers, -that crouds of the noblest -dames and damsels of the country -looked out, and admired the magnificence -of the powerful Counts of Carlsheim -and Sargans.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ida would not cast a single glance -towards the side-chambers, where the -dames and damsels of former days -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>used to assemble, for in these there were -no torches; and she could not help -fearing, lest she should discover in them -some inhabitant of the other world -made visible by the light of his own -burning brimstone. She therefore continued -to look towards the illuminated -gallery, and listened with pleased attention -to Father Hilarius, while he dwelt -upon the brighter parts of the family -traditions, and by descriptions of splendid -feasts and stately tournaments, -contrived to beguile the trembling girl -of her terrors.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“But we forget ourselves,” said -the Monk at length, suddenly breaking -off his narration, “we must not suffer -day-light to surprise us in these untenanted -apartments, where we should -undoubtedly be sought after, and then -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>if found what would be the consequence? -you would be consigned to the arms of -the decrepit Egbert, while I should be -sent back to my Convent with indignation -by your uncle. Come, lady, -come! follow me, where peace and -security await your arrival.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Lead on, good father!” replied -Ida; “be you but my guide, and I -will not hesitate to follow.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Good!” said Hilarius; and then -extinguishing some of the lights, he -took them from the chandeliers.—“Then -take special care of these tapers; -they will be necessary for us on the -way, by which we must escape. Now -then hasten onwards, and be alarmed -at nothing, which you may encounter. -Be assured, there is no real danger.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Thus saying, he gave her a small -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>basket, which already appeared to contain -some provisions, and in which he -now deposited the tapers. These preparations -for a long journey through -gloomy ways were by no means calculated -to preserve in Ida’s mind that -temporary tranquillity, which it had -so lately recovered. An involuntary -shuddering seized her; and as he lighted -her forwards, he assured her so often -of his acting honestly by her, that she -began to suspect, that it must be his -intention to deceive her.</p> - -<p class='c017'>They at length reached the most -remote quarter of the Donat-Fortress, -which by no means corresponded with -the magnificence of those apartments, by -which she had approached it. Here nothing -was to be seen but winding staircases, -narrow passages, low roofs, and gloomy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>vaulted dungeons, without end or number, -whose labyrinth bewildered her -memory, and whose aspect appalled -her imagination. Most of them bore -the strongest marks of the ravages of -time: and now they entered an immense -chamber, which according to the Monk’s -account had at one period been the bedroom -of the Countess Urania, and of -many of the ladies, her successors.—A -large vacant alcove still decorated with -the remnants of silken curtains, appeared -to have once been intended to contain -a bed, and confirmed the assertion of -Father Hilarius; an assertion, which -the other ornaments of the room seemed -calculated to contradict. Swords, spears, -and coats of mail were fastened against -the walls, and gave the apartment more -the appearance of a well-furnished armoury, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>than of a lady’s bed chamber. -Ida was on the point of asking the -meaning of such unusual decorations, -when her conductor removed a part of -the worm-eaten tapestry, and opened a -concealed door, through which she -descried a staircase descending to a far -greater depth, than her eye could -reach.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Here is our way,” said Hilarius, -“tremble not, my child, but follow me -without hesitation.—A few hours will -place you in safety.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ida shrunk back, and weeping through -extreme terror, inquired, whether this -was the only means of escaping?—The -Friar, who had already found out the -quickest method of removing her apprehensions, -descended part of the staircase, -and as he past, kindled some tapers -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>fixed on the balustrade. This experiment -succeeded, as it had done before—Ida -ventured down a few steps, and the -Monk returned to assist her to descend -the remainder; when suddenly springing -past her, he rushed up the staircase, -and passing through the door, closed it -after him with a loud noise.</p> - -<p class='c017'>How the blood ran cold in the poor -girl’s veins, when she found herself -forsaken by her guide; how she hastened -after him, in hopes of inducing -him by entreaties to release her from -this unexpected captivity; how she -shuddered at being able to discover no -traces of the concealed door; and how -she at length sank down upon the steps -in agony and despair, when she found -no answer returned to her shrieks for -relief and mercy, all this I need not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>describe to Elizabeth: her own good -and tender heart will make her feel for -the situation of a young creature, by -nature the most fearful of her sex, exposed -to all the horrors of night, -solitude, and silence, at the entrance of -a chain of gloomy caverns, whose existence -till that moment had been unknown -to her, and with whose outlet she was -totally unacquainted.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Though she received no answer, she -was certain, that her entreaties for help -were not unheard by the unpitying -Friar. She could plainly distinguish -his footsteps, as he hastened away from -the chamber; and the noise of closing -doors and of bolts shooting back into -their fastenings left her no room to doubt -her being totally abandoned.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>Ida was herself unconscious, how much -time elapsed, before she could summon -strength of mind sufficient to reflect, -how it would be most adviseable for -her to conduct herself in this perilous -situation. Undoubtedly, before she -could recover from the shock, a considerable -period must have elapsed; for -when she at length looked around her, -she perceived, that the torches were on -the point of expiring. The dread of -being left in total darkness recalled her -to herself: she sprang from the ground, -and lost no time in kindling one of the -tapers, with which the Monk (who was -far from wishing her destruction) had -providently supplied her basket.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“He does not then desire my -death?” said she, as she saw the flame -rise bright and cheerful, and a kind of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>doubtful joy infused itself into her almost -frozen heart.</p> - -<p class='c017'>This persuasion was confirmed, when -faintness compelled her to examine the -contents of her basket. Father Hilarius -(who was no enemy to the pleasures of -the table) had furnished it, as if he had -been catering for himself: the provisions -were the most delicate of their kind, -and a small flask of costly and cordial -wine had not been forgotten. Now -then she began to think, what could -have been his object in conducting her -to this gloomy abode? It was evident, -that he had not left her there to perish -through hunger: was it possible, that -he had meant honestly by her, and that -this was really the best path, which she -could take to quit the Castle? Suddenly, -it struck her, that during their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>midnight wandering the Monk had frequently -mentioned a subterraneous -passage, which conducted to a small -hamlet inhabited in former times by -holy Hermits, and now the abode of -simple villagers scarcely less pure in -manners than their predecessors. He -had described this passage to her with -such minuteness, that she could not -but suppose his account to have contained -instructions for the direction of -her progress; she had at the time paid -but little attention to his remarks, not -conceiving that she was at all interested -in the subject; but she now carefully -mustered up every hint which he had -let fall, and employed her whole strength -of mind in recalling the instructions, -which he had given with such apparent -indifference.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>Having at length traced the map of -her road on her imagination sufficiently -to make her hope, that she should be -able to find her way through the gloomy -labyrinth, she ventured to begin her -journey. She carefully avoided various -low-vaulted, passages, which presented -themselves on either side of her, and -which Father Hilarius had already -warned her not to enter; as he said, -that they only led to small dungeons, -in which many victims of the tyrant -Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans had -breathed their last, and which now -formed the unwholesome abode of toads, -snakes, and other loathsome reptiles. -Apprehensive that her light might fail -her, before she could reach the outlet of -these caverns, she fled onwards with all -her speed, and hoped with every moment, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>that the next would show her the -magnificent tomb, raised by Count Herman -of Werdenberg in honour of his -wife the lady Emmeline, who had been -long imprisoned in this subterraneous -abode. The sight of this monument -would assure her, that she had not mistaken -the way; and the Monk had told -her, that she would there find three -paths branching out, of which the middle -one would conduct her without a -turning to the cavern’s mouth.</p> - -<p class='c017'>But still she hastened on, and still -one taper after the other was consumed, -and still the tomb was not to be descried! -Sleep, and fatigue from the length of the -way, began to operate upon her with -force almost irresistible; yet did she -not dare to close her eyes, lest during -her slumber the taper should burn out, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>and leave her in absolute darkness to -wander through the long chain of dungeons -and passages, till she perished. -In this painful situation her only advantage -was, that her imaginary fears gradually -subsided. Custom and necessity -are frequently the parents of virtue; -and Ida, the timid superstitious Ida, who -so lately could only traverse the chambers -of the Donat-Fortress with eyes -closed, hands crost, and knees trembling, -was now able to tread firmly, as she -hurried along, and feared not to gaze -steadfastly on the surrounding gloom, -with which she was now become -familiar.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The poor wanderer could only judge -from the consumption of her tapers, -that she must have journeyed for a considerable -time, and that the mouth of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>the caverns could be at no great distance—this -belief was confirmed, when she -perceived a faint pale light glimmering -through the obscurity of a narrow passage, -which lay before her. The sight -inspired her with renewed vigour. She -hastened towards the gleam: but how -did her spirits fail her, when after proceeding -for some minutes down the -passage she found, that the light proceeded -(not from the day, as she had -fondly hoped) but from a lamp, which -served to illuminate with its blue rays -a place, the sight of which a few days -sooner would have made her swoon -with horror, and upon which even now -she had but too much reason to look -with apprehension and disgust.</p> - -<p class='c017'>It was a round vaulted room, whose -sides were hollowed out into niches, in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>each of which a coffin was placed; while -here and there the eye rested on a stately -marble monument adorned with carved -work and statues.—Ida shrieked, and -the taper fell from her hand.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Now then,” she exclaimed, “I -am lost indeed! What said the Monk?—Above -all, avoid a narrow passage, -which lies towards the left; it conducts -into the burying-place of a convent. -Should you stray thither, and be discovered -by the Nuns, the object of your -flight will be lost irrecoverably, and -you will only have exchanged one prison -for another. The Abbess is entirely -devoted to your uncle’s interests, and -will not hesitate to restore you to his -power.—Alas! alas!” she continued, -wringing her hands, “how plainly do I -now remember every word of his warning, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>though at the time I little thought -of how much consequence it was to my -safety!—Now remembrance comes too -late! I am fallen into the toils: speedy -flight indeed might perhaps yet save me; -but sleep sits too heavy on my eye-lids, -and my wearied limbs are unable to bear -me further.—I must yield to the impulse, -and repose for a few moments, for I am -fatigued almost unto death!—then -should no one discover me during my -slumbers, when I awake, I can re-kindle -my taper at yonder lamp, and shall be -able to pursue my pilgrimage with recruited -strength and courage.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>She then lay down upon the floor near -her extinguished taper, resting her head -against an adjacent tomb; nor was it long -before she sank into a profound sleep. -Little till then did Ida believe it possible, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>that she could sleep among graves -and coffins! Still less was she aware, -how near she was at that moment to -safety and protection! Oh! how would -her sorrowing heart have been lightened, -had she known, that a few hours -must necessarily compel one of her best -friends to enter her gloomy resting-place; -one, who at that moment was -grieving at the relation of her flight -from the Castle of Torrenburg, which -had reached him under the most scandalous -mis-representations, and who -was in the most painful uncertainty -respecting her fate and the means of -saving and supporting her. Ida had -unconsciously wandered into the cemetery -belonging to the Abbey of Curwald, -which was under the direction -of her friend and guardian, Abbot -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>Conrad!—Oh! how eagerly would he -have hastened to embrace and comfort -the poor forlorn-one, could some kind -angel have whispered to him in a dream.—“Ida, -the unfortunate much-injured -Ida slumbers among the mouldering -bones of the Abbots of Cloister-Curwald!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Conrad had dispatched messengers -on all sides in pursuit of Ida, as soon as -he received the news of her flight, -which Count Frederick transmitted to -him without delay. It seems, that what -Father Hilarius dreaded with so much -reason, had actually taken place at the -Castle of Torrenburg. No sooner was -the first burst of passion over, than the -Count’s justice made him resolve to -give his accused niece a personal hearing—the -morning had scarcely dawned, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>when he sought her apartments. Her -favourite attendant was ordered to -apprize her mistress of his approach: -great was his astonishment, when the -maid returned extremely agitated, and -informed him, that Ida was no where -to be found. Father Hilarius was immediately -sent for; and his explanation -of Ida’s motives for flight of course -was such, as served greatly to increase -his patron’s indignation, and throw a -still deeper shade upon the character -and conduct of the fugitive. Elizabeth’s -bridegroom had disappeared, immediately -after rejecting her hand at the -altar; Ida was now become equally -invisible: it required no great ingenuity -to connect these two events together. -Nothing could appear more probable, -than that Ida had eloped with Henry, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>and that she was gone to form an union -built upon the ruined happiness of her -best friends, and to exult at having -duped those, whose good-natured simplicity -had prevented them from suspecting -her designs.—Count Frederick’s -generous heart was shocked beyond -expression, when he thus saw the -offences of his niece presented before -him in such gigantic enormity.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Monstrous!” he exclaimed! “inconceivable! -first she plunges a dagger in -the breast of her benefactor, by robbing -him of the woman whom he adored; -next she stabs her dearest friend to the -heart by seducing away the bridegroom, -into whose arms she had herself -delivered her! now then she believes, -that her infernal work is complete; she -knows well, that all ideas of an union -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>between me and Elizabeth are prevented -for ever; she doubts not, that vexation -and disappointed love will soon conduct -me to the grave; and then she means -to divide my rich inheritance with the -partner of her iniquities, the false -capricious perjured Montfort!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Father Hilarius now stepped forward, -and represented to him, that it only -depended upon himself to ruin the -plans of those, who had so grossly -offended him; and that as to his union -with Elizabeth, he for his part saw no -impossibility in the case. The Count -eagerly desired him to explain his -meaning; and the obedient Monk proceeded -to prove with the whole force -of his eloquence, that Elizabeth deserved -pity rather than blame for her share -in these transactions; that she had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>been seduced from her duty more by -Ida’s arts than by her own inclinations; -and he declared his perfect conviction, -that if the Count would now condescend -to make the first advance towards a -reconciliation, he would find her as -full of penitence for her error, as grateful -for his proffered affection, and as -eager to unite with him in a plan of -mutual revenge, as even the Count -himself could desire.—Nor did he make -this last assertion rashly. Father Jacob -had already apprized him, that every -thing at the Castle of March was favourable -to their views; and he advised -Hilarius to send his patron thither -without loss of time, in order that -Elizabeth’s resentment (upon which he -chiefly grounded his hopes of success) -might not be allowed time to cool.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>Count Frederick took the Friar’s -advice, which was greatly strengthened -by a supposed vision of the Patron-Saint -of Torrenburg, who had condescended -in a dream that very night to -assure Father Hilarius, that the consequence -of a visit to the Castle of March -would be an union with the lovely -Elizabeth. Accordingly the Count lost -no time in setting out to renew his -once-rejected proposals, habited as a -bridegroom, and attended by a princely -retinue. In the mean while the worthy -house-chaplain did not even allow himself -time enough to say his paternoster, -before he dispatched letters to the -Bishop of Coira and Abbot Conrad, in -which he related the flight of their -ward, the Lady Ida of Werdenberg, in -all its circumstances; stating also the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>alledged motives and supposed consequences -of this step, and above all not -forgetting to place every circumstance -in the light most unfavourable to -the Heroine of the Tale. As they perused -these letters, the Abbot and the good -Bishop alternately felt indignation at -Ida’s errors, pity for her misfortunes, -and anxiety for the dangers in which -she had involved herself. Willingly -would they have believed her innocent; -but appearances were too strong against -her, and the Abbot little imagined, that -the only person capable of removing -the suspicions, which he was so anxious -to efface, at that very moment reposed -so near him.</p> - -<p class='c017'>In the mean while Ida awoke greatly -refreshed by a sound sleep of several -hours. She re-kindled her taper, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>resumed her anxious journey; yet she -delayed it for a few moments, while -she endeavoured to read the inscriptions -on the monuments, and ascertain to -what order the Abbess belonged, whom -Hilarius had described to her in such -odious and terrific colours. These -clearly exprest, that the tombs were -raised in honour of the former Abbots -of Cloister-Curwald, in whose cemetery -she was standing at that moment: what -blessed information for her agitated -heart!—the door was unguarded.—A -marble staircase conducted to the -interior of the Abbey!—But alas! the -inscriptions were composed in the Latin -language.—Ida vainly endeavoured to -comprehend the meaning; and a few -moments sufficing to convince her, that -her endeavours must be vain, the poor -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>wanderer turned away from the neighbourhood -of her friend, and hastened -to meet her ruin.</p> - -<p class='c017'>With trembling limbs and an heart almost -bursting with anxiety, she pursued -her gloomy path. She continued to -proceed for a considerable time; and -her last taper was almost expiring, when -its beams fell upon the object, which -she had wished to behold so long and -so anxiously. She was now certain of -having followed the right path, for she -saw at a distance the monument of her -progenitrix, the noble Emmeline of -Sargans.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The polished and shining surface of -the white marble reflected from afar -the gleam of Ida’s taper—the pilgrim -hastened towards it with eager joy, -not untempered by religious awe and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>reverential terror. With scarce-heard -foot-fall, as if she dreaded to disturb the -dead silence of a place thus sanctified, -did Ida ascend the steps leading to this -memorial, raised in honour of faithful -love and long suffering. It was some -minutes, before she could resolve on -venturing near enough to examine -the statues, with which it was adorned. -On one side stood a female angel (the -counterpart of the lovely Emmeline) -who trod under her feet the symbols -of cruelty and voluptuousness, and who -extended to a kneeling warrior her -right hand, on whose wrist was still -fastened part of the chain, which <i>he</i> -had broken.—On the opposite side appeared -the same warrior, who with looks -of gratitude held a ring towards Heaven, -probably in allusion to the prophetic -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>dream, which had guided Herman of -Werdenberg to the deliverance of his -mistress.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Spirits of my ancestors!” exclaimed -Ida, as overpowered by her -sensations she sank on the loftiest step, -and kist the hallowed marble; “spirits -of Herman and Emmeline, hear the -prayer of your forsaken persecuted -daughter! <i>I</i> suffer now, as <i>you</i> once -suffered;—<i>I</i> am innocent, as <i>you</i> were -then!—save me, ye blessed-ones! save -the heiress of your sorrows!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ida prayed long and fervently.—When -she arose, she found that her -last taper was exhausted, and had left -her in total darkness; this however -gave her little concern. The religious -duties, in which she had just been -engaged, had inspired her heart with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>enthusiastic courage: besides, she knew -well, that of the three ways branching -out of the circular vault in which she -was at that moment, she had only to -chuse the middle one, which (as Father -Hilarius had informed her) would conduct -her straight to the outlet of the -subterraneous passages. She ascertained -easily by examining the walls, which of -the three was the proper path to take, -and then hastened boldly forwards; -for she was now persuaded, that the -invisible spirits of her ancestors hovered -over her, and she dreaded no danger, -while protected by those celestial guardians.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The Monk had told her true—the -way was straight and unembarrassed -with windings: it soon began to ascend, -and the delighted wanderer could at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>length discover the faint glimmering of -day-light, through the distant opening. -But alas! however near may be the -goal of our wishes, who shall dare to -count himself secure of reaching it!—Ida -had for some minutes heard a dead -hollow noise behind her, and the ill-boding -sounds had already occasioned -her sufficient anxiety to make her double -her speed. Still the noise became more -audible: and now she could plainly -distinguish the steps of men, whose -arms clattered, as they past along. She -looked back, and could perceive the -glimmering of faint lights at a distance. -She rushed forwards with increased -rapidity: the sounds, which became -every moment louder, convinced her, -not only that she was pursued, but that -her pursuers gained upon her.—Fortunately, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>the opening was now at hand; -she summoned up all her strength and -activity to reach it, sprang through it, -and found herself once more restored -to air and light.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Praised be Heaven, I am safe!” -she exclaimed: when at that moment -she felt a cold hand seize her by the -arm.—She shrieked, and fell on the -earth senseless.</p> - -<p class='c017'>It was long, before her recollection -returned. When she again unclosed -her eyes, she found herself no longer -in the open air. She was placed upon -a kind of couch, in what she supposed -to be a tent; a group of men of terrible -and savage aspect surrounded her; and -seated on a chest at no great distance, -she perceived a warrior in complete -armour, whose raised visor showed a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>countenance wild, ’tis true, but still -noble and commanding.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“At length then we have found -her!” said the warrior in a tone of -exultation—“the lovely pilgrim is in -our power, whom we so long sought -in vain through yon gloomy vaults and -subterraneous passages.—You are welcome, -fair lady: Father Hilarius gave -us notice, that we might expect your -visit; and I rejoice to find, that the -description which he gave us of your -charms, was far from exaggerated.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Have mercy on my distress, Sir -Knight!” cried Ida, who now rose -from her seat with difficulty, and sank -at his feet, while she extended her fettered -hands in supplication towards him.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Father Hilarius assured me,” she -continued, “that I should find the habitation -<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>of some holy Hermits near the -cavern’s mouth: oh! if any such habitation -really exists, in pity guide me -thither!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Compose yourself, lovely girl,” -answered the stranger.—“Hilarius has -not deceived you, neither has he deceived -<i>us</i>.—He promised us the possession -of a treasure, and he has kept his -word, though we mean to make a -better use of it than that, for which he -consigned it over to us. He promised -you, that you should find here the -habitation of certain Hermits; and he -told you true, for you are actually in -a Hermitage at this moment: many -years ago was this the retreat of some -fugitive Monks, who were obliged to -seclude themselves from the intercourse -of mankind; and it still forms an abode -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>for a band of daring and persecuted -spirits, whom tyranny and injustice -have banished from the world. We -too are Hermits, though not quite such -holy ones as those, whom you excepted -to meet. But what does that -signify? saints, or sinners, I warrant, -you will fare better in our society, than -you would with any company of Monks, -that ever concealed hypocrisy under -sackcloth.—Take this as a specimen of -the whole canting-tribe. Father Hilarius -has commissioned us to remove -you so far from this province, that your -face may never be seen here again: -we have engaged to convey you to a -place, where beauty like yours is always -a marketable commodity, and sure of -fetching a heavy price: but you are -too fair, too good, too noble, to be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>sacrificed to the embraces of an infidel: -no, child! we mean to do better for -you. You shall remain with <i>us</i>, and -your priestly enemy shall be foiled in -his treacherous designs.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“First understand,” interrupted -Ida, whose indignation in spite of grief -and terror burst forth upon hearing -this insolent declaration of the outlaw; -“first understand, to <i>whom</i> you speak! -I am no ordinary captive, no low-born -girl the fit associate for a band of robbers!—you -see in me the niece of -Count Frederick of Torrenburg!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Indeed?” replied the outlaw,—“are -you then <i>really</i> Count Frederick’s -niece?—why, to let you into the whole -secret, we were told as much, though -we did not give the Monk full credit, -and suspected <i>that</i> part of his story to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>be an invention for the purpose of -obtaining a better price.—But since -you are in truth the person whom he -mentioned, so much the better; your -rank and expectations make your possession -doubly valuable. I have no sort -of objection to exchange my precarious -mode of life for security and opulence, -nor by laying aside the title of captain -of a band of outlaws to claim that of -Count of Torrenburg in right of my -wife, its lovely heiress. With the assistance -of my companions I will reinstate -you in your rights; the previous -possession of your hand and person -will entitle me to share your good -fortune; and I shall be indebted to you -for my restoration to my proper rank -in society, which necessity has for some -time past compelled me unwillingly to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>resign. Now then you are apprized of -my whole plan, which suggested itself -as soon as Hilarius informed us of your -rank, and in which I am fully confirmed -by the powerful impression produced -upon my heart by your beauty.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>He paused: Ida only answered with -her tears—after a few minutes past in -expectation of her reply, the robber -thus resumed his discourse.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“You are silent? you weep?—Ha! -perhaps you are offended that your -hands are fettered?—be comforted; -those white hands shall instantly be restored -to liberty!—instantly undo those -bonds, barbarians that you are! how -could it come into your heads, that it -was necessary to bind a poor defenceless -girl, whose escape is so impossible?—shame -upon your flinty hearts, how -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>could you bear to treat so inhumanly -such innocence and such charms!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>The other robbers now hurried to -remove the fetters; but their captain -drove them away with curses, and -declared, that from that moment no -one except himself should dare to approach -his lovely captive on pain of -instantaneous death.—He then kissed -the unbound hands of Ida, led her -respectfully into another tent, and there -left her alone, after entreating her to -compose her agitated spirits, and assuring -her, that she might rely upon -meeting from him with none but the -most honourable treatment.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ida, equally overcome with mental -and bodily fatigue, sank into a state of -unconsciousness and stupor, which the -sentinels who were appointed to guard -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>the entrance of her tent (and who -from time to time looked in upon their -charge) interpreted to be a tranquil -sleep, and failed not to bring this -welcome intelligence to their captain.—He -received it with the highest satisfaction, -hailed this refreshing slumber -as the first step towards the restoration -of tranquillity, doubted not that he -should find Ida more composed and -resigned to her fate on his evening -visit, and found her almost frantic -through despair.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The peremptory manner in which -Ida rejected his addresses, and the little -progress which he made in reconciling -her to her present situation, grieved -the robber-chief to the very heart, but -did not excite his indignation. He -continued to treat her with the utmost -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>respect and attention. Nothing was -denied her except liberty; and Randolf -(for that was the name of the enamoured -outlaw) carried his politeness and -deference so far, that he never even -presumed to enter her tent without -having previously obtained her permission.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ida, whose presence of mind gradually -returned, and who became collected -enough to reflect on the best means of -conducting herself in such difficult circumstances, -could not but feel, that -such attention on the part of Randolf -required some return on hers. She -was totally in his power; it was unwise -to exasperate him; and she therefore -judged it prudent to allow him permission -to pay her a daily visit of an hour, -since she feared with reason, that without -<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>this voluntary concession he might -be induced to allow himself greater -liberties without asking her leave.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“May I, lady,” said he one -morning, after she had past some days -in his power; “may I request permission -to present to you one of my -friends, who holds in this society the -next place to myself?—he is a nobleman, -whom misfortunes have compelled -like me to adopt a mode of life, which -we both look upon with abhorrence, -and which with the first opportunity -we are determined to exchange for one -more honourable.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ida was sufficiently aware, that the -<i>opportunity</i> to which he alluded, was -the possession of her hand, by which -he hoped to give himself a claim to -the Count of Torrenburg’s rich inheritance. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>He frequently in conversation -threw out hints of this nature, but -which she judged it most wise to let -pass without observation. She now -only answered that part of his speech, -which regarded the introduction of his -friend, and to which (as she feared to -irritate her jailor by a refusal) she gave -an unwilling consent.</p> - -<p class='c017'>On his next visit he was accompanied -by a man, whose countenance -was much more wild and his manners -much less prepossessing, than those of -Randolf. The latter presented the new -visitor by the name of Sir Gero of -Altheim.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The captive soon understood from -the conversation, which past between -the associates, that the antipathy, which -Gero’s first appearance had excited in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>her bosom, had not been excited without -good grounds. He possest not the -smallest share of that delicacy and -respectful attention, by which her lover -was characterized. He permitted himself -to make the most licentious and -offensive observations upon the extraordinary -charms of her person, and -raised her original disgust to abhorrence -by blaming Randolf for having suffered -his passion to remain so long ungratified; -assuring him at the same time, -that he would have dealt far differently -with his own lovely mistress, had not -her religious habit terrified him from -using force, and thereby drawing down -the vengeance of offended Heaven.—For -it seems, this wretch, though he -trampled upon all laws human and -divine, was still a slave to the grossest -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>superstition, and trembled at the very -sight of a veil or a rosary.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“She has now been some days in -your possession,” observed Randolf; -“have you made any progress with the -fair Nun?”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>“Not I!” replied Gero; “she is a -miracle of beauty, its true, but her -obstinacy equals her charms. Since the -day that I captured her on the road to -Zurich, I have been able to obtain -nothing from her but tears and entreaties -for her liberty: and as to proceeding -to violence, I am too much afraid of -the resentment of holy mother church, -or I should put an end to her resistance -before to-morrow morning.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>During this conversation Ida remained -silent, and abandoned herself to the -melancholy reflections excited by the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>increased consciousness of the execrable -society, of which she was so unfortunately -become a member. But now -when she found that she had a companion -in misfortune, and that a person -of her own sex (a virtuous and persecuted -Nun) was so near her, a sentiment -of secret satisfaction and hope -infused itself into her bosom.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Oh! Sir Knight,” she exclaimed, -addressing herself to Randolf, “how -happy would you make me, could you but -procure for me the company of Sir Gero’s -captive! it is disgraceful, it is dreadful, -for a young maiden to be alone in a -society entirely composed of men and -strangers; and I feel, that the presence -of a person of my own sex would be -to me a source of the greatest consolation! -it would conduce beyond all else -<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>to make me endure my confinement -with resignation! oh! good Sir Randolf, -plead for me with your friend, and -persuade him to allow me this unexpected -pleasure!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>The smile, with which she accompanied -this request (’twas the first -which played upon her lips, since she -became a captive) was irresistible. As -she pronounced the last word, she extended -her hand towards him, and he -kissed it with rapture. A wish, exprest -in a manner so fascinating and so -unlooked for, was a law to the enamoured -robber; and addressing himself immediately -to his companion, he enforced -her request with so much energy, -that Gero though with a sorry grace -found himself compelled to grant it.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Now then” said Randolf, as he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>left the tent with Gero, “now then -you can judge for yourself, which of -our modes of treating our captives is -the most likely to succeed at the long -run. When did your Nun ever speak -to you with such gentleness, or favour -you with so sweet a smile? when did -she ever extend her hand towards you -of her own accord, and suffer you -to press your lips upon it? credit me, -Gero; send her to my mistress, and I -will bet my head upon it, that before -long half her obstinacy and aversion -will have disappeared. You see, how -complaisant I have made the lady Ida; -and it only requires a little kindness -and flattery well applied to make our -religious ladies, just as tame and as -obliging as their sisters of the wicked -world.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>In the course of the day Randolf -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>returned to inform Ida, that she must -not expect the visit of the captive Nun -till after midnight.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“My friend,” said he, “is obliged -to keep it a profound secret from the -greatest part of our companions, that -such a prisoner is in his possession. -That he has a mistress, indeed, they are -aware; but it would make a terrible -uproar in our community, were it -known that Gero had carried off a Nun; -and many among our associates, who -would think nothing of half a dozen -murders, would expect the rocks to -fall and crush us the very next moment, -for daring to lay sacrilegious hands -upon a damsel dedicated to Heaven. -To be sure, we violated no sanctuary -to get at her, for we found her trotting -along the high road, when she ought to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>have been quiet within the walls of her -Convent: but still the very sight of -a veil has such influence over the -common rabble, that Gero does not -think it prudent to bring her to your -tent except under the protecting shadow -of night. He also implores you by me -to reward him for this compliance with -your wishes, by persuading her to lend -a more favourable ear to his passion: -he is also desirous of learning her name, -which hitherto she has obstinately concealed; -and above all he is anxious, -that she should lay aside her religious -habit, which hourly exposes him to -danger from his superstitious associates. -I know, what you are going to observe: -you believe, that it is nothing but respect -for this habit, which preserves her -from Gero’s violence; but I swear to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>you by everything that is most sacred -and solemn, that neither she nor yourself -have anything to fear from the -men who adore you. Our intentions -towards you are the most honourable: -we have great designs in hand, whose -nature I am not as yet permitted to -disclose to you; but be assured, that -should they succeed, the Countess of -Werdenberg and the fair Nun will have -reason to bless the day when they fell -into our hands, and thus escaped the -being immured for life within the -gloomy walls of a Convent; a fate, -from which <i>she</i> has been rescued, and -to which <i>you</i> were doomed.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>The prudent Ida, (who saw that -favours, which had cost her so little, -were so well rewarded by her grateful -admirer) took good care not to contradict -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>the robber. She answered him -by a thousand thanks for his intercession -with Gero, and for his assurances of -regard for her welfare; and she then -dismissed him with a smile so gracious -and so sweet, as riveted his chains for -ever. When beauty, and sense are -united in the same woman, alas! what -puppets in her hands are the mighty -lords of the creation!</p> - -<p class='c017'>Midnight arrived—the hearts of both -the captives throbbed with impatience -for the moment of meeting, though -they knew not, what made them so -impatient. Never seemed time to move -so slowly with Ida, as while she waited -for the stranger’s arrival; and on her -side the lovely Nun quite trembled -with joy, while she followed her conductors -to the tent, in which (so Gero -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>had informed her,) she should find a -companion in captivity, whose heart -was prepared to sympathize in her -misfortunes—the robbers conducted her -to the door of the tent; but thinking -it would be most agreeable to the ladies, -that their first interview should pass -without intruders, they suffered her to -enter alone.</p> - -<p class='c017'>It was well for both the captives, -that this meeting took place without -witnesses.—Ida was sitting in a melancholy -posture, when she heard an approaching -footstep.—She started up, -and beheld by the pale gleams of her -lamp a tall light figure, whose face was -covered with a thick veil, advancing -from the entrance of the tent. She -hastened to meet her, but uttering a -loud cry, she started back again. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>religious habit worn by the stranger -was but too well known to her.—It -was the long grey garment decorated -with a golden cross upon the breast, in -which she had so often seen the Nuns -gliding through the cloisters of Engelberg; -and the white veil, edged with -black and falling to the very ground, -was of that particular form appropriated -to the order of the Zurich Sisters. The -veil was now hastily thrown back; Ida -gazed eagerly upon the Stranger’s features, -and astonishment, joy, and tenderness -were carried to the highest -pitch.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Constantia!” exclaimed Ida.—“Oh! -Heaven! it is my Constantia!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Ida! my Ida!” shrieked the Nun, -and clasped her almost fainting sister -to her bosom.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>And now the Sisters wept for joy to -think, that they were once more -united; and now they wept for grief -at reflecting, that this union had only -made each a partner in the other’s captivity. -At length having sufficiently -collected their scattered thoughts, they -made mutual enquiries as to the events, -which had produced a meeting so unexpected. -Ida related the long and -fearful tale of adventures, which had so -rapidly crouded upon her since Elizabeth’s -wedding: on the other hand, -Constantia briefly stated, that on her -way back to her Convent at Zurich, her -party had been encountered by a band -of robbers: the Cloister-Vassals, whom -the Abbess had sent to protect her, -were soon put to flight; and thus was -she brought into the hands of Gero, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>whom she had the misfortune to inspire -with so violent a passion, that he purchased -her from his companions with -his share of the booty arising from the -whole produce of their excursion.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The night past away in mutual congratulations -on this meeting so unexpected; -and when morning broke, they -recollected, that their plans for the -future were still unarranged. They -had now only time to settle, that as -the knowledge of Ida’s rank had only -served to make the robbers consider -her possession as of double value, it -would be most prudent to conceal -Constantia’s real title; and accordingly -she resolved to resume her former appellation -of Mary Tell, an appellation under -which she had past the only happy -part of her existence.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>When Randolf the next morning -inquired of Ida, what she thought of the -fair Nun, she replied, that her society -was extremely pleasing, and would be -much more so, were it not for a certain -coldness and reserve, which probably -would wear off upon further acquaintance. -In a few days she informed Gero, -that she had discovered the name of his -mistress to be Mary Tell; and thus did -Constantia avoid the dangerous importance -attached to the title of a Countess -of Werdenberg. By her sister’s advice, -she abated somewhat of the haughty -coldness, with which she had hitherto -represt the addresses of her ferocious -lover; though they both judged it -unwise for her to comply with his -request, that she should lay aside her -religious habit. This had hitherto been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>the means of protecting her against -more violent means of enforcing his -passion; and they were of opinion, that -too many restraints could not well be imposed -upon an affection so ill-regulated -as the sentiment, which Gero dignified -with the name of love. However, gentle -looks and expressions of gratitude -for his attentions were not occasionally -refused by Constantia: Gero had -been so little accustomed to be thus -mildly treated by her, that even -these trifling condescensions appeared -to him of inestimable value; and when -in return for his assurances of future -respect, she one day deigned to extend -towards him her alabaster hand, the robber -was so transported, that he took the -first opportunity of thanking Ida upon -his knees for a change, which he attributed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>entirely to her powerful influence, -and which he implored her to exert still -further in his behalf.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Noble lady,” said he, “you have -often heard Randolf hint, that we have -great plans in agitation, whose chief -object is the promotion of your interests; -nor are they unconnected with the happiness -of myself and my adorable Nun. -A dreadful oath forbids my saying -more on this subject at present; but rest -assured, when the time for explanation -arrives, that explanation will be such, as -must perforce content you. In the -mean while suffer me to make to you -one request. It is necessary for the -success of our undertaking, that yourself -and the lovely Mary (together with our -jewels, gold, and all things which we -possess of value) should be removed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>from this valley to a retreat at some -distance. During the journey, and -your residence at this new abode, promise -me, that you will keep a watchful -eye over your fair companion, on whose -attachment I can by no means rely with -the same confidence, which Randolf -places on yours. In this respect, he is -far more fortunate than his friend; -since the kind reception, which he never -fails to meet from you, in spite of -the awe with which your modest air -and dignified demeanour inspires him, -leaves but little doubt, that you are sensible -of his worth, and will in time -be disposed to reward so steady an -attachment. Besides this, I am convinced, -that you have too much solid -understanding to think of escaping from -a place, whose very nature will convince -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>you on your arrival, that any such -attempt must be unsuccessful: but no -one can say, what dangerous impossibilities -a Nun may not be induced to undertake, -animated by religious enthusiasm, -and confident in the supposed -protection of the Saint, to whom her -service is dedicated. These illusions -may heat her brain, till she desperately -braves every peril, overlooks every difficulty, -and will draw down inevitable -ruin on her own existence, while she -leaves me to lament over my baffled -hopes. Then mark me, Lady!—watch -over Mary’s steps with unceasing assiduity: -when we again meet, restore her -to me safe and lovely, as I now leave -her; or never hope to see yourself re-instated -in your claims by the valour -of my arms and those of my companions, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>nor restored to society by the -acknowledged title of Countess of Werdenberg, -and heiress of the wide domains -of Torrenburg, Carlsheim, and Sargans.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>This speech, which was begun in a -kneeling posture and in the softest tone, -which a voice so naturally rough could -adopt, assumed as it proceeded an air of -menace, and was terminated by Gero -with a terrible frown and a loud stroke -upon the brazen pommel of his sword. -Nearly the same discourse was repeated -to her in the evening, (though conveyed -in much milder language) by Randolf. -She delivered such a reply, as circumstances -compelled her to give, and trembled, -as she listened to some obscure -hints and disjointed observations, which -fell from the outlaw, but which no solicitations -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>could induce him to explain. -However, she had heard enough to -excite in her mind the most painful -apprehensions, though not enough to -certify their being well-grounded.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The preparations for setting out were -soon completed: the treasures were -packed up; and the Sisters were now -informed, that the place of their destination -was a narrow valley situated in -the heart of the Mountains of Hapsburg. -Gero and Randolf took a tender but -respectful leave of the fair travellers, -who were escorted by a small band of -soldiers, composed of such members of -this lawless society as were unfitted by -advanced years for taking part in that -great undertaking, to assist in which, -the young and active were detained. -The ladies set forward, but not till Ida -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>had made some observations, which -rendered her doubly impatient to commence -her journey.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Oh! my sister,” she said, as -soon as she found an opportunity of -conversing without being overheard, -“did you not observe among Randolf’s -followers countenances, which you -had seen before? In spite of their -change of dress, I am certain, that the -two who rode next to Gero were Friars, -who often visited the Castle of Torrenburg.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Alas!” answered Constantia, “it -is not now, that I learn for the first time, -that a perfect understanding subsists -between these robbers and the unworthy -members of some religious community. -During my confinement in Gero’s -tent I frequently observed monks among -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>his visitors; of whose principles you -will judge, when I inform you, that they -made no scruple to counsel my encouraging -the licentious addresses of my -jailor, though they were thoroughly persuaded, -that I was a dedicated Nun: -they offered to release me from my -vows, laughed at (what they termed) -the absurdity of my prejudices, promised -me entire absolution, and advised -me to pay no more respect to my veil, -than they did to their cowls and scapularies. -Conceive, dear Ida, my sufferings, -while compelled to listen to such profane -suggestions, and to repress the indignation, -which they excited in my -bosom.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“And have you then no guess,” -demanded Ida, “what is the object of -an union so singular?—Did they never -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>let fall a syllable, whence you could -collect the nature of this mysterious -enterprize, on which they are now -departed?”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Constantia declared her perfect ignorance -on the subject.</p> - -<p class='c017'>“Alas! alas!” resumed Ida, -“dreadful apprehensions force themselves -upon my mind! Randolf frequently -suffered hints to escape him, -which the more that I reflect on them, -serve but to confirm my fears the more. -The robbers have a private understanding -with the false Hilarius.—The Monks, -whom I discovered in Randolf’s train, -are of the same order with that betrayer!—It’s -true, Count Frederick has treated -me cruelly and unjustly, and now little -merits, that I should feel anxiety on his -account. Yet, oh! that I were but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>near him for one half hour, that I might -warn him of the dangers, which hang -over him and his, and which I would -willingly avert, though the price were -the last drop of my blood and the last -breath existence.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>The Sisters had full leisure in the wild -solitude to which they were conveyed, -to communicate to each other their -mutual fears and melancholy forebodings. -Ida’s insinuating manners soon -rendered her a favourite with her grey-headed -guards; and the persuasion of -Constantia’s religious vocation made -them bow with superstitious reverence -at her approach, and hold it an honour -to be suffered to kiss the hem of her -sanctified garment. In consequence of -these prepossessions in their favour, the -Sisters had no other reason to complain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>of their treatment in confinement, than -the confinement itself.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The place, in which they now resided, -was inaccessible to all, except the robbers, -and the rays of the sun. It was a flat -spot surrounded by a chain of snow-covered -mountains; one narrow footpath -hewn in the rock was the only -entrance, whose windings were known -to none except the ferocious inhabitants -of this valley; and which the sudden -descent of weights of snow and of ice-splinters<a id='r1' /><a href='#f1' class='c021'><sup>[1]</sup></a> -from the over-hanging rocks -frequently rendered for some time impracticable -even for them. The Sisters -shuddered, as they gazed upon the gigantic -masses of rocks of ice, which glittered -coldly around them as far as the eye -could reach; and they could not conceal -their terrors at reflecting, that a single -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>motion of those cloud-covered summits -would be sufficient to convert the valley -into their inevitable grave. The chief -of their guards, however, upon hearing -them make this remark assured them, -that this never <i>would</i> happen, because it -never <i>had</i> happened yet.</p> - -<div class='fn'> - -<div class='footnote' id='f1'> -<p class='c022'><span class='label'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. </span>Avalanches.</p> -</div> - -</div> - -<p class='c017'>—“You must know, fair ladies,” -said he, “that I am one of the most -antient among the heroes, who have the -honour to serve under the banners of -Sir Randolf of Mansfeld. While I was -but a child, I fled hither with my poor -father, then the innocent victim of -monkish persecution, and we found a -kind refuge in the bosom of these -mountains. The man, who was then -at the head of this hospitable community, -had been acquainted with the first -institutor of the band, and had learned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>from him many remarkable particulars -respecting this valley; some of them in -good truth enough to curdle the young -blood in your veins with very terror: -but as to such an accident as that which -you apprehend, never had such a thing -been known to happen. Therefore set -your hearts at rest, ladies: the valley -lasted out <i>his</i> time; you see, it has -almost lasted out <i>mine</i>, and I warrant -you, it will last out yours also.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>The Sisters had no better means of -passing the tedious hours of captivity -than in listening to the old robber’s -never-ending narratives: besides, they -thought it by no means impossible, that -in the warmth of discourse some particulars -might escape him, which might -tend to the improvement of their own -situation. They therefore often entreated -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>him to relate the adventures of -his father, who had been so unjustly -persecuted; as also to tell them, what -he had learnt, from his first captain, -respecting the original founder of this -society of freebooters, and to give them -some account of the various singularities -of the mountains. They could not be -better pleased to listen, than the old -man was to talk; and he answered these -inquiries at much greater length, than I -shall repeat at present: with his persecuted -father we have no occasion for -concerning ourselves; and as to the -wonders of the mountains, we are likely -to obtain a more particular description -of them from another quarter: the only -point then, which need be repeated for -the gratification of the curious, is the -manner, in which the habitation of holy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>Anchorets became converted into a retreat -for banditti.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Whoever is acquainted with the -antient history of Sargans, cannot but -remember, that these private recesses of -the mountains were inhabited by a -society of fugitive Monks from Cloister -Curwald. The institution of this society -took place in the time of Count -Ethelbert of Carlsheim; and it was -continued by the occasional reception of -new members, as often as death reduced -the number, to which it had been -limited by its founder, Abbot Christian. -That number was six; but for want of -novices it was reduced to two, at the -period, when Luprian, the licentious -Abbot of Cloister-Curwald, (flying from -the vengeance of Count Herman of -Werdenberg, and from the punishment -<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>due to his inhuman treatment of the -Lady Emmeline) was conducted by -chance to this secluded Hermitage.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The pious Anchorets received him -with the most benevolent welcome: -they gave full credit to his tale of persecuted -innocence, and looked upon the -virtuous sufferer as an angel conducted -thither by the hand of Heaven, that he -might comfort and sustain them under -the infirmities of age, and might close -their eyes, when death should draw -nigh their stony couches. This last -piece of service Luprian lost no time in -rendering them. He imagined, that -they possest concealed treasures of immense -value, which would enable him -to lead once more a life of luxury in -some foreign country, could he but -obtain the inheritance of his hosts. In -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>consequence of this persuasion, the old -hermits slept in the grave sooner, than -nature had intended; and Luprian -without an hour’s delay ransacked every -corner of the cave. His expectations -were cruelly disappointed. He found -nothing more than the usual possessions -of an Anchoret; cowls, scapularies, -crosses, and a few relics of saints -and martyrs. But of gold or jewels -there appeared not the slightest vestige; -and Luprian had the mortification to -find, that he had committed one of the -most horrible crimes ever perpetrated -on earth, without deriving from it even -the most insignificant advantage.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Yet was it not its guilt, which made -him lament the commission of this -action; no, ’twas its having been committed -without reward. His conscience -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>was by no means of so delicate a -texture, as to make him feel uncomfortable, -while inhabiting the scene of this -atrocious murder. On the contrary, -he resolved on making this well-concealed -retreat the theatre of fresh -offences, and immediately employed -himself in collecting a set of men, -whose hearts were depraved, whose -characters were blasted, and whose prospects -in the world were ruined like his -own. These he conducted to the -mountain-valley, and became the founder -of a band of free-booters, which had -now existed above a hundred years, -and which had brought inexpressible -calamity on all the neighbouring country. -The rich and the poor, the nobleman -and the peasant, alike mourned -over their ravaged fields, and plundered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>dwellings, their murdered children and -dishonoured wives; and yet did the -authors of all this mischief set punishment -at defiance, protected by their -secret caverns and their snow-clad impracticable -rocks.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Their numbers had gradually increased. -Hither fled for refuge many a ruined -nobleman, no longer able by honest -means to supply his pampered appetites -with those indulgencies, which habit -had now made absolutely necessary: -many a fugitive Monk, who dreaded -the chastisement so justly due to his -violated vows: many a blood-guilty -culprit, to whom the world offered no -happier prospect than the gibbet or the -rack: and alas! many an innocent sufferer, -driven by the persecution of the -powerful or by the bann of the church to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>this wild society, in whose polluted -bosom he for the first time became -acquainted with guilt. The numbers -of these banditti now considerably exceeded -a thousand, all of whom acknowledged -as their chiefs Randolf and -Gero.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Besides the above information, the -old robber communicated to his fair -questioner many particulars respecting -the neighbouring mountains, every succeeding -one of which was more wonderful -and terrific than its predecessor. -The Sisters believed no more of these -extraordinary tales than they thought -proper: however, they obtained much -more credit with the one, than with -the other. Ida’s solitary wanderings -through the subterraneous caverns of -her uncle’s castle had given her a degree -<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>of confidence in danger, which before -was totally wanting in her character: -and the experience which she had thus -acquired, in addition to her natural high -spirits and enthusiastic imagination, converted -her from being the most timid -of created beings into a kind of demi-heroine, -ready for adventures, and disposed -to set all perils at defiance.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“All things well considered,” -said she to her sister, as they sat one -star-light night before the door of their -cavern, round which their guards lay -sleeping; “all things well considered, -I am convinced, that flight is absolutely -necessary, and by no means unlikely to -be attended with success. Whether -Randolf and Gero prosper in their plans, -or fail, their return will equally bring -with it our certain ruin. Then before -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>that dreaded return takes place, let us -summon up our resolution, and seize -the first favourable opportunity to explore -the way through yonder chain of -mountains, which old Hugo has described -to us in such terrible colours. -The way, by which I fled from the -Castle of Sargans, was not without its -horrors: yet I soon grew accustomed -to them; and how far inferior were -they to those, which I had heard attributed -to the caverns, and which I believed -to be real, till experience convinced -me of my error! Oh, be assured, -Constantia! we shall find, that a similar -deception has been used in the present -case. Yonder mountains, I am persuaded, -are not entirely covered with -ice and snow; between them may be -found, no doubt, many a green and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>sheltered valley, where we may rest -occasionally, and recover strength sufficient -to endure and to conquer the -dangers and difficulties of the way, which -still remains to be traversed. Who knows, -but their lofty heads conceal from us -some happy smiling regions, where we -may pass the rest of our lives unknown -and unnoticed in innocence and peace, -and may become once more as happy, -as we were in the morning of our -youth on the banks of the Lake of -Thun and in the green vallies of Frutiger?—Dearest -Constantia, be resolute, -and let us hazard the attempt! For the -worse, our situation cannot change: -we can lose nothing, even should we -fail; we may gain every thing, if we -succeed: even at the worst, the attempt -however unprosperous must obtain for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>us <i>one</i> advantage, a release from captivity -by death without dishonour.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>In answer to these representations, -Constantia reminded her sister of the -fearful traditions, which Hugo had -related to them, respecting the mountains, -and the fantastic beings supposed -to inhabit them. She pointed to the -Halsberg Rock, whose steep and lofty -head rose exactly opposite to them, -glittering through the gloom of night -like an immense star; and she inquired -of Ida, to what cause she attributed this -extraordinary splendour? Was it by -any means improbable (she asked) that -these inaccessible heights were appropriated -to the residence of evil spirits; -who by night endured there the -punishment due to their crimes in sulphureous -fires, of which that light was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>the reflection; and who by day employed -themselves in leading astray such -unwary travellers, as ventured too near -the place of their mysterious torments, -and in hurling them down frightful -precipices into depths and abysses, never -to rise again?</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ida replied, that it was by no means -her intention to travel into the clouds -so far as the place, whose dazzling -brightness had induced her sister to -people it with such terrific inhabitants: -and she added, that being determined -on flight, she was better pleased to -believe, that the brightness itself, which -seemed like a crown of diamonds encircling -the brows of the venerable Halsberg -and his brethren, proceeded merely -from the reflection of the moon and -stars on the ice-covered cliffs and crags, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>than from brimstone and sulphur burning -in a terrestrial Hell.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Constantia’s long abode in a convent -and her visionary turn of mind, made -it difficult for Ida to get the better of these -superstitious terrors: yet at length she -succeeded. They began to make the -necessary preparations for their attempt. -They lost no opportunity of secreting -such provisions, as were not of a very -perishable nature and were easy of conveyance; -they also endeavoured to -accustom themselves to taking but little -sustenance in the course of the day; and -they soon flattered themselves, that -whatever might otherwise be the dangers -of their expedition, they were at -least secure against suffering from the -attacks of those two most cruel enemies -of poor pilgrims, hunger and thirst. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>As to pretences for absenting themselves -from the valley, they were easily to be -found. The robbers were too thoroughly -persuaded, that flight was -impossible, and too strongly imprest -with the idea, that women were too -great cowards to hazard such an attempt, -for them to keep any very strict watch -over their prisoners.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Constantia was particularly dexterous -in laying springes for snipes, woodcocks, -and other birds, which frequented -these rocks in great numbers; and the -light-footed Ida would often explore -places in search of their eggs, where the -chamois himself would scarcely have -ventured to climb. Then when the -Sisters were successful, they knew so -well how to prepare their booty for the -table in a manner the best calculated to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>please the palate, that even old Hugo -did not think it beneath him to accept -a part of the savoury repast. Sometimes, -the eagerness of this pursuit prevented -the girls from perceiving the flight of -time; and night was already closing in, -before they regained the cavern. However, -as they seldom returned with -empty hands, and as they always did -return at last, these long excursions -were seldom found fault with.—One -of the robbers indeed thought proper -in a moment of ill-humour to remonstrate -with Hugo on the too great -liberty allowed the captives, and to -represent the possibility of their seizing -the opportunity to escape; but the -old man was faithful also on this occasion -to the opinion, which he had -formerly given respecting the fall of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>the ice-crags; and continued to content -himself with thinking,—“that which -never had happened, in all probability -never would happen at all;” indeed -this was on all occasions a favourite -maxim with him: and he frequently -averred, that his adhering to it through -life had saved his head many an unnecessary -care, and his limbs many an -unnecessary journey.</p> - -<p class='c017'>In the course of these excursions, the -Sisters had examined the lower part of -most of the mountains towards the -north. They agreed, that a particular -path, which seemed to lead straight -over the Halsberg Rock, appeared to -offer the most convenient passage and -the greatest prospect of a successful -end to their journey. By this path -then they determined to set forward, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>as soon as they could summon up resolution -sufficient to enter upon so dangerous -an undertaking; but this was -no easy matter, and they still thought it -better with every succeeding day to -postpone their journey to the next.</p> - -<p class='c017'>In the mean while, it appeared that -Gero and Randolf had not found their -plans so easy of execution, as they had -flattered themselves would have been -the case. This was evident from their -thinking it necessary to send for the -greatest part of those of their associates, -who had been appointed to watch over -the captives and treasures concealed in -the secret valley; and who, being chiefly -men, whose strength was considerably -impaired by age or wounds, could only -be required to give assistance in some -case of most urgent necessity. This -<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>unexpected demand for their services -produced much disturbance among the -grey-headed miscreants. The Sisters -thought this a favourable opportunity -for putting their design in execution. -Their preparations were already completed: -each took a basket well-filled -with wine and provisions in her left -hand, and grasped with her right a -strong and knotted staff to support her -tottering feet, as she traversed the slippery -paths of the mountains: and then -with hearts beating anxiously, and with -cheeks, almost as pale as the snow-hills -to which their steps were addrest, they -set forward to pursue a path till then -never trodden by the foot of mortal.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Each was persuaded, that she was -thoroughly acquainted with the nature -of these mountains, because they had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>examined the two or three first miles -of them. They dreamed of green vales -and silvery fountains, because they had -occasionally found such among the -lower parts of the Halsberg Rock. -But how bitter were their sensations, -when they perceived, that with every -moment the path became more rough -and difficult; when they found, that -their endeavours to keep on the same -level were in vain, and that they were -compelled to ascend into the more bleak -and lofty regions of the mountain! at -length they stopped in despair: they -exchanged looks of terror, and murmured -a few broken words, respecting -the hopelessness of their attempt and -the necessity of returning. They embraced -each other with a sigh of anguish, -and then began to retrace their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>way to the robber’s valley; for even -this now appeared to them an object -less terrible, than certain death in this -kingdom of frost and desolation. However, -they had not proceeded far, before -they discovered, that (miserable as it -was) even this last resource was denied -to them. It was evident, that they had -missed their way; to which ever side -their course was directed, they still -found themselves compelled to ascend. -It seemed, as if they were inclosed in -some magician’s circle, from whence -there was no escaping; or as if incensed -at their invasion of his territories, the -spirit of the mountain had so fascinated -their eyes, that they could only see the -paths which led upwards to his cloudy -palace, but none which by descending -into the vale would enable them to -escape from his vengeance.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>As yet they had not felt themselves -quite solitary in these realms of terror. -Sometimes a chamois bounded by them; -sometimes their footsteps, echoing from -the frozen rock, scared from its nest a -screaming eagle: but still the further -that they advanced, the more silent and -awful seemed all around them; and the -greater that the number became of those -gigantic masses of ice, which they left -behind, the greater number still were -seen towering before them in the distance. -Here all animation seemed to -end: here the stillness of death appeared -to have fixed its everlasting dwelling. -No solitary weed, no single blade of -grass showed itself from between the -frozen rifts. Only here and there -appeared some scanty patches of moss, -and of another plant without colour, -taste, or smell; thin, frail and white as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>the snow, from which it was produced.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Constantia paused for a moment: -she prest her sister’s hand, and silent -tears streamed down her cheeks, while -she pointed to a pair of milk-white -butterflies; the only living creatures -to be seen in this melancholy place, and -perhaps the last, which <i>they</i> should ever -see. It was clear, that not their own -sport or inclination had brought the -insects thither, but that some unlucky -gust of wind had forced them into -these inhospitable desarts. The poor -little flutterers flew round each other -for a while in still contracting-circles, -and then sank on the ground, overpowered -by the killing wind which blew -from the Ice-hills. The Sisters gazed -upon them with looks of compassionate -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>anguish; in the fate of these two unfortunate -wanderers they read their -own. Their feet were already seized -by the frost; it would have been impossible -for them to have proceeded -much further, had not a better path -presented itself before them. This, it is -true, was free from ice and snow; but -on the other hand it was much more -difficult and rough, on account of immense -masses of fallen rock, which -occasionally barred up the path completely. -Over these they were obliged -to climb, not without danger; neither -did they suffer themselves to be scared -from proceeding by the precipices, -which frequently yawned on both sides -of them, and threatened the poor -Pilgrims with death in their abysses. -But oh! how amply were they repaid -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>for all which they had suffered in -traversing this path, when they perceived -some narrow planks laid from one of -those precipices to another. Here then -were certain proofs, that human beings -had past this way before them; had -performed the journey with success; -and had left these memorials to assure -any wanderers who might follow them, -that it was not impossible for patience -and perseverance to overcome the -obstacles, which opposed their painful -progress. Now then the Sisters hastened -onwards with fresh spirits and recruited -hopes. Alas! it was not long, before -each separately perceived skulls, and -other fragments of human skeletons, -which told them but too plainly, how vain -was the attempt of escaping from these -rocks with life! each knew but too -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>well the object which shocked her; -each felt but too plainly the truth, which -the sight of that object conveyed: but -neither told what she had seen to the -other, lest she should make her sister’s -bosom share the anguish of her -own.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Thus did the poor weary girls continue -to wander onwards, till day-light -faded; the increasing gloom made the -surrounding objects appear doubly terrific. -At length the moon rose. Ida -and Constantia were passionate admirers -of the charms of nature: it is true, -that their hearts were too full of anxiety, -and their limbs too much tortured by -the severity of the frost, to admit of -their feeling in its whole strength of -beauty the admirable scene, which the -moon-beams now exhibited to their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>view: yet was not that beauty entirely -disregarded by them. Each called her -sister’s attention to the dazzling and -indescribable splendour, which now unexpectedly -surrounded them: each, in -hopes of imparting a gleam of momentary -satisfaction to the other, exaggerated -her admiration at the pompous -show, and forced an expression of -pleasure into her countenance, which -was totally foreign to her heart. The -moon rose still higher; her image was -reflected a thousand-fold from the -enormous crystallizations, which presented -themselves on all sides, hanging -from the broken crags, and threatening -every moment to fall into the profound -gulphs beneath them. The objects -around seemed on a sudden like some -region described in romance, where -<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>diamond-rocks and palaces of precious -stones are raised in an instant in a wild -desart by the wand of some arch-magician: -everything appeared enchanted, -and the Sisters, as they now hastened -onwards, seemed wandering in a flood -of silver light: but alas! that light was -cheerless and unwarming. It only enabled -them to contemplate the regions -of frost around them, but gave them -no relief from the pain, which that -frost inflicted! with a sentiment of -sorrow not to be exprest, they folded -each other in a strict embrace.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“All around us is so bright and -fair!” said Ida; “alas! and <i>we</i> are so -wretched!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Constantia only answered her with tears—yet -after remaining for a few moments -in this attitude of tender sorrow, they -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>were sensible, that a kind of cheering -warmth had communicated itself from -each bosom to the other. Yet Constantia -now declared, that she found it -impossible for her to proceed onwards: -but if any place could be found, not so -totally frozen as to threaten any one, -who should rest there, with the sleep -of death, she trusted, that after a short -repose she should be able to resume her -journey with recruited strength and -spirits. They had fancied for some -time, that they could distinguish the -distant murmur of a stream of water; -and they now naturally concluded, that -a place, where water was still unfettered -enough to flow, could not be altogether -destitute of warmth.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ida encouraged her fainting sister to -drag herself a few paces further, in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>hopes of discovering that place of rest, -which she had just declared so necessary.</p> - -<p class='c017'>They ventured to enter one of the -enormous caverns, which the penetrating -moon-beams deprived of some part -of its natural terrors. As they proceeded, -they were sensible of a different -temperature of air from that, which -they breathed in the more exposed -parts of the mountain: by comparison -they could almost call the sensation, -which they now experienced, by the -pleasing name of warmth; and the feel -of something like soft moss under their -feet encouraged them with the conviction, -that here at least all vegetation -was not completely at an end. The -roar of the water-fall by this time was -almost deafening; but no persuasions -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>could induce the timid Constantia to -advance one step further into the -cavern, than where it was illuminated -by the moon-beams.</p> - -<p class='c017'>She sank almost insensible upon the -mossy carpet; while the more active -Ida bethought herself of every possible -means of alleviating the sufferings of -her fellow-Pilgrim. The contents of -their baskets remained untouched, for -anxiety of heart had prevented them -hitherto from being sensible either of -thirst, or hunger. Ida now bathed her -sister’s pale lips with some drops of -wine; she then splintered the staves, -which had guided their tottering steps -in this hazardous journey; and she -hastened to collect a few precious fragments -of broken wood, which while -entering the cavern she had remarked -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>in the moon-shine; probably they were -the remains of a plank, which had served -some former traveller as a bridge over -the wide chasms between the rocks.</p> - -<p class='c017'>With a flint and the steel clasp of -her girdle she contrived to strike out a -few sparks of fire. It was not long, -before she had the satisfaction to see -the wood blazing; and she started in -admiration and astonishment at the -magnificent show, which the strengthening -fire-light presented before her; the -Sisters were at the entrance of an immense -and vaulted cavern, whose sides -and roof appeared to be entirely formed -of ice: from the extreme end of it the -rush of the water-fall proceeded and -was repeated by innumerable echoes: -while the flames played sometimes on -large sheets of crystal, smooth, bright, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>and polished as Venetian mirrors, and -sometimes fell upon the broken crags -of the rock, whence they were reflected -in a thousand ways, and which they -tinged with a thousand colours.</p> - -<p class='c017'>But this was not the time for amusing -herself with unprofitable observation, -and Ida soon recovered herself -from her momentary enthusiasm. Constantia -lay by the side of the little fire, -still in great need of comfort and assistance; -and it was long, before her -sister’s efforts to revive her produced -the desired effect. The first favourable -consequence of these endeavours was -a gentle slumber, as she lay reclined -upon the moss, which by this time, -had acquired a slight degree of warmth; -Ida seated herself close by the fire, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>occupied in feeding and preserving it, -and determined not to allow her eyes -to close, in order that she might -devote herself to watching the slumbers -of her sister.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Yet the night appeared so long, that -she would have found it impossible to -resist her inclination to sleep, if she had -not sought some more active employment. -Accustomed by her adventures -in the Donat-Fortress to long wanderings -in caves and darkness, she resolved -to beguile the tedious hours with exploring -the more retired depths of the -rock, and tracing to its source the -water, whose distinct roar assured her, -that it could be at no great distance. -The kindly warmth of the fire had -recruited her spirits and restored her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>strength in a great measure; and she -found herself able to undertake the -task of wandering through the frozen -cavern, without being in danger of -yielding to the cold. Midnight was -past, when guiding her course by the -light of a blazing fire-brand she drew -near the thunders of the cataract, -and her limbs trembled less with cold, -than with expectation of the sight -which she was now on the point of -witnessing. Who can penetrate without -emotion into the earth’s interior -sanctuary? who can presume to pry -into Nature’s secret abodes, where the -great Mother brings forth those children -of her strength the mighty Floods, without -feeling awe-struck by the bold and -desperate undertaking?</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>The blazing fire-brand was here unnecessary. -An opening in the cavern’s -roof gave free admittance to the moon-beams, -and the whole extent was brilliantly -illuminated. Ida now beheld a -spectacle, to which she doubted whether -the whole universe could produce a rival. -From the summit of a rock of ice, whose -height the eye measured with difficulty, -and which was entirely formed of the -river’s own frozen evaporations, did -the rapid torrent of the Aar precipitate -the whole volume of its waters headlong, -till it reached an enormous mass of -broken pieces of rock, the probable accumulation -of ages. Here it divided -itself into more than twenty lesser -rivers, which sought their passage into -the vale below, in a variety of directions.—The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>scene was most splendid, but also -was most awful!—the moon-light made -the foaming flood appear like a torrent -of liquid silver; which produced the -most singular and fantastic effects, as it -rushed with rebellowing roar among -the groupes of colossal rocks around -it, and interrupted with the glitter of -its streams, the deep gloom occasioned -by their shadows, Ida looked up to -the awful height, whence the torrent -descended, covering her with the light -sprinkling of its foam: she looked down -into the fearful gulph, in which its -waters were buried: she looked upon -the cavern’s glittering walls, covered -with incrustations of innumerable shapes -and colours, and upon the moving -shadows, which fell from the surrounding -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>gigantic rocks. The sight was too -much for her; she felt her head grow -giddy; the fire-brand dropt from her -grasp, and she sank upon the ground -almost insensible.</p> - -<p class='c017'>She soon recovered herself, and -hastened to quit a scene, whose awful -beauties were more than she could bear -in the weak and agitated state of her -nerves. She could discern the glimmerings -of the distant fire, and hastened -back to the outward cavern; where -she found Constantia still buried in -repose. The flame was now getting -low, and more fuel was not to be procured: -but it had already warmed the -cave sufficiently to remove any apprehension, -lest the sleeper should be frozen. -Since therefore her watching ceased to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>be necessary, Ida no longer resisted -the drowsiness, against which for -some time past she had found it so -difficult to contend. Besides, through -the opening of their resting-place she -could already discern the first faint -reddening of the approaching morn; -she therefore laid herself down by -Constantia’s side with the pleasing reflection, -that the cave would soon be -warmed and gladdened by the power -of the sun; and that when her still-slumbering -sister should open her eyes, -she would not behold those gloomy -appearances, which during that long -sad night had produced upon herself -such deep and melancholy impressions.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ida had not long closed her weary -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>eye-lids, before Constantia awoke greatly -refreshed. Unconscious of the manner -in which her sister had past the night, -she lost no time in waking her, and -advising the prosecution of their journey. -Ida was contented with her short repose, -and obeyed the summons. Yet -before they quitted the hospitable -cavern, to whose shelter from the -night-blast they undoubtedly were indebted -for life, Ida led her sister to -the place, which had appeared to her -so awfully splendid when viewed at -midnight; but which (she doubted not) -would produce a different impression -than in those moments, when her -fortitude was completely subdued by -anxiety of mind and lassitude of -body.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>The beams of the morning-sun now -stained the waters of the Aar with -crimson light: its streams, as they -precipitated themselves into the vales -beneath, glowed with a thousand beautiful -colours. A shower of diamonds -seemed to fall from the summit of the -ice-rock, and the clifts, which during -the night had thrown such deep and -solemn shadows around them, now -were gaily arrayed in verdant moss -and covered with such hardy plants, as -can endure cold without inconvenience, -and which generally fasten their -roots in the fissures of stones and -among the broken crags of mountains. -The sight was at once majestic and -enlivening! the two pilgrims sank upon -their knees opposite to the newly-risen -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>sun, and poured out the sentiments -of pious enthusiasm, with which -they felt their hearts overflow. Not -complaints, not murmurs, not sighs -proceeded from the lips of these poor -forlorn-ones: no; they exprest their -delight at this wonderful creation and -their admiration of its Creator, though -at that moment they were themselves -struggling against calamities so desperate, -as scarcely to afford them the -remote possibility of a rescue. Never -perhaps was a nobler sacrifice offered -up by suffering humanity to the power -and magnificence of the Supreme!</p> - -<p class='c017'>Yet Ida’s sacrifice was the greatest, -since Constantia possest a source of -satisfaction in her bosom, of which her -sister was not yet aware.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>—“To-day,” said she, while her -countenance was brightened with smiles, -at the same time detaining Ida, who -(having finished her orisons,) was on the -point of turning from the cave; “to-day -it is my turn to be the guide through -our doubtful journey. Ida, I dreamt -last night, that we were still wandering -along the paths, which we traversed -yesterday: methought, that you went -foremost, and bewildered yourself in a -narrow nook, where precipices on all -sides impeded your further progress. -I was lamenting over your distress; -when lo! on a sudden St. Engeltruda -stood before me, such as she is represented -on the altar-piece in her Chapel -at Engelberg. A ray of golden light -detached itself from the aureol, which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>blazed round her head, and guided -me to a small opening in a rock, exactly -resembling <i>that</i>, which caught my -eye in the first moment of my entering -this cavern. I past through it: a -narrow winding-way descended gradually -into the valley. Suddenly, as if it -had been by some magic spell, we were -transported into those happy plains, -where we past the years of infancy, and -which I shall never cease to regret our -ever leaving: there we became once -more Mary and Rosanna Tell, and -forgot in the humble tranquillity of -Rutelis the sorrows and sufferings of -our lofty hateful station.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ida gave way to the enthusiastic -hopes of her sister, and followed her, as -with difficulty she forced her way -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>through a narrow opening, which she -had discovered at no great distance -from the torrent. After springing -boldly at the hazard of their lives over -a few wide-yawning chasms, they -reached a kind of green plain, where -it was possible for them to proceed -above a hundred yards without meeting -any obstacle. A circumstance so new -in their painful journey inspired Constantia -with added confidence. She -turned smiling to her sister, and pointed -out two small white butterflies, who -were sporting in the sunshine, and -which (she was firmly persuaded) were -the very same, whom she had seen -sinking exhausted to the ground on -the day before.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Yesterday,” said she with exultation, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>“yesterday they were the emblems -of our distress; to-day they are -the prophets of our speedy rescue. See, -see! a favourable western gale wafts -them kindly to the lower vallies, where -they may flutter through fields of flowers, -and forget how much they suffered -from the frost, while they bask in the -bright and cheering sunshine.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Her long undisturbed night’s rest, -and her confidence in the protection of -her Patron-Saint had greatly improved -Constantia’s spirits: Ida’s on the contrary -were much more deprest than at -the beginning of their journey. They -soon reached the termination of their -easy road; and as fresh obstacles seemed -again to impede their progress with -every step, Ida asserted, that the difficulties, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>which they found in their present -path were sufficient to prove, that -they had judged ill in altering their -direction. It was in vain, that Constantia -attempted to demonstrate, that -the course, which she so much regretted, -would have led them into the most -remote recesses of the Grimsel-Mountain, -which towered above them on the <i>one</i> -side; or that she pointed out the Tempest-horn, -which rose on the other like -some threatening giant, and on whose -ice-covered limbs no path was discernable, -which could possibly have been -trodden by any mortal feet.</p> - -<p class='c017'>A narrow passage between two almost -joining rocks guided them to the mountain -of Gemmi: and now they perceived -with joy, that instead of being -one unvaried acclivity, their road every -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>now and then suffered them to descend. -It’s true, this road seemed rather calculated -for the clambering of goats, than -for the use of human beings: but though -it was frequently interrupted by extensive -chasms, they frequently found themselves -assisted in passing them by broad planks, -already laid over them by some friendly -hand. Where there were none, and the -Sisters were obliged to traverse the abyss -with extreme hazard on some narrow -shelf by clinging to the broken crags, still -Constantia never would proceed, till she -had discovered either an unemployed -plank, which she brought from some -other place, or the shattered branch of -some wild fig-tree; in order that she -might stretch it across the chasm, and -enable any future wanderer to cross it -with less trouble and risque. She also -<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>(as they proceeded onwards) began to -relate a wonderful legend, which had -been told her by one of the nuns of -Zurich, explaining, why of all these -mountains that of Gemmi alone was -observed never to be whitened with -snow or ice. But Ida was too much out -of heart, and too fearful of their being -engaged in a wrong direction, to permit -herself to pay much attention to the -legend; and as <i>she</i> did not think it -worth notice, there can be no sort -of occasion for my repeating it here.</p> - -<p class='c017'>From a rock, whose height made their -heads giddy, they had ventured at mid-day -to cast their eyes down into the -regions beneath them, and which the -sinking heart of Ida now made her -despair of ever reaching. They could -perceive from hence several dark spots, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>which Ida pronounced to be abysses, in -which their path would at length terminate: -and this decision she delivered -with such positiveness, that Constantia -would undoubtedly have consented to -return, or else have chosen a different -path, had either a return been now -practicable, or another path been to be -found. But as the day advanced, and -the road still continued to sink itself -lower and lower, with what rapture did -they ascertain, that these supposed abysses -in fact were parts of a village; whose -smoking chimnies announced to them -the neighbourhood of domestic comforts, -and to whose peaceable shelter the cattle -were at that moment returning from -pasture.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The quick-sighted Ida was the first to -make this discovery. She sank weeping -<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>upon the bosom of her sister, and -entreated her to forgive the wayward -humour, with which she had embittered -their journey. Constantia folded the -suppliant to her heart, and the Sisters -united in offering up a prayer of fervent -gratitude to the Saint, who had guided -their wanderings so wonderfully and so -well.</p> - -<p class='c017'>They resumed their journey, and now -how easy did it seem to them! As they -descended, the path gradually enlarged -itself; and before the shutting in of -night they found themselves safe under -one of the cottage-roofs, where they -learned for the first time after a long, -long interval, what it was to rest without -anxiety: in truth the short and -broken slumbers, which visited them in -the robber-valley, were scarcely worthy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>of being called by the sweet name of -rest.</p> - -<p class='c017'>While the Damsels of Werdenberg -were engaged in the above adventures; -while one of them was anxiously and -vainly expected at the Convent of Zurich, -and while the other was most unjustly -censured and despised for her supposed -elopement with the acknowledged bridegroom -of her friend; Count Henry of -Montfort was eagerly pursuing the -wrong track, into which he had been -enticed by the perfidious chaplain of -Castle-March. Persuaded that he should -soon overtake Ida, he continued to rush -forwards without allowing himself to -rest for a moment; till in a little village -belonging to the Canton of Glarus he -was attacked by a severe fever, produced -by the violence of his mental -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>agitation, and by the inconsiderate -speed, with which his journey had -been performed. Nature at length -yielded, and Henry was compelled to -stop, and make his option either of -recovering slowly, or of dying at -once.</p> - -<p class='c017'>According to the established custom -of all knight errants, he had commenced -his expedition, not merely without -forming a plan or consulting common -sense, but without furnishing himself -with a necessary supply of cash. He -had left all his attendants far behind him; -and as several days had elapsed since his -separation from them, and as he had -not thought proper to inform them of -the object of his journey, they were -totally unable to form even a guess as -to the place, where it would be most -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>likely for them to rejoin their master. -Luckily for Henry, in the paroxysms of -his fever he frequently pronounced the -name of Montfort. From this the good -simple people of the village (who in -truth had rendered him all the assistance, -which their sorry means could -allow) concluded, that the invalid must -certainly belong to the old Count of -Montfort. A messenger was dispatched -to verify the fact: and Count Egbert -lost no time in sending able physicians -to his nephew’s aid, by whose care the -fever was at length vanquished. As -soon as the step could be taken without -endangering his life, the Convalescent -was removed to his paternal mansion, -where he saw nothing but frowning -countenances, and heard nothing from -morning till night, except reproaches -<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>for his extraordinary conduct on his -bridal day with Elizabeth. It seems, -that Count Egbert now thought himself -entitled to assume a higher tone of -authority with his nephew, since the -news was just arrived, that Henry’s -firm friend and powerful patron, the -Emperor, was no more. He perished, -in consequence of a malady which he -contracted during an expedition against -the Turks, and was no longer able to -vindicate and enforce the claims of his -favourite.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“You cannot but acknowledge,” -said the old Count one day to his pale -and still emaciated nephew, “that I -have done every thing in my power to -establish your happiness on a firm basis. -Elizabeth of March, young, lovely, wise, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>powerful, and (above all!) enormously -rich, would have been your own at -this moment, if you had not thought -proper to abandon her for the laudable -purpose of scampering away after a -will-o’-the-wisp!—But now the business -is over! No regrets can now put matters -to rights again! Elizabeth is -Countess of Torrenburg, is lost to you -for ever, and what counsel to give you -now, I protest, I know not!—Truly, -your affairs are in a wretched condition: -your claims on my succession cannot -avail you till after my decease; and -even then, they stand a fair chance of -being worth but little, since I am now -seriously thinking of contracting a matrimonial -engagement: though you -thought proper to break off my former -<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>match by running away with my intended -bride, the light and wanton -Ida!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Here Henry assured him for the -twentieth time, that he had not beheld -Ida since the bridal day at the Castle of -March; and his uncle for the twentieth -time replied, by assuring Henry, that in -that case it was very extraordinary, that -nobody else should know any thing at -all about her. However, whether she -had gone off with Henry or with any -other person, for his own part he was determined, -that anxiety about her should -never turn one more hair of his head -grey; but that he would marry the first -woman of a decent family, whom luck -or accident should throw into his way.</p> - -<p class='c017'>In the course of his reproaches the -old Count had mentioned Elizabeth’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>marriage: this was a fact. Within a -few days after Ida’s disappearance, Elizabeth -became Countess of Torrenburg. -It has already been mentioned, that -Count Frederick set forward for the -Castle of March, in all the pomp of a -bridegroom, to renew his addresses, -fortified by an encouraging vision of his -patron-saint, and assisted by the prayers -of the worthy Father Hilarius. On the -other hand, the house-priest of March -had managed to screw the indignation -of Elizabeth and her relations to the -highest pitch against the fugitive Montfort -and the Heiresses of Sargans; and -the lady’s parents were proportionably -penitent for the ill-judged rejection of -Count Frederick’s addresses. Finding -his mistress and her friends in a temper -of mind so favourable to his wishes, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>the superannuated lover needed only to -make his proposals, in order to have -them accepted. But little discussion -was necessary; all parties were soon of -the same mind, and Elizabeth in a few -days entered the Castle of Torrenburg -as its mistress. From that hour her -every word, her every action was such, -as proved her to be worthy of the high -station, in which she was placed by the -choice of this excellent nobleman; -against whom no possible objection -could be suggested, except that he was -old enough to be the grand-father of -his blooming wife. But to Elizabeth’s -disappointed heart his age was rather a -recommendation than an objection. -After Montfort’s perfidy she felt it -impossible for her ever to love another -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>man as her husband; but she loved -Count Frederick as her father; she -esteemed and reverenced him, nor from -her conduct towards him would any -one have supposed, that her happy husband -was not still in possession of all -the advantages and charms of youth. -All affection for the ungrateful Henry -seemed extinguished in her bosom, and -the good old Count enjoyed with her a -much greater share of happiness, than -he had any reason to expect would have -been the case. Nor was her behaviour -towards her husband alone praiseworthy: -she conducted herself on all -occasions with so much discretion, and -displayed throughout such winning -graces and enlarged benevolence, that -she became the object of universal -<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>respect, and was proposed as a model to -be admired and imitated by all the -daughters of Helvetia.</p> - -<p class='c017'>In one point alone her prudence was -in default. There was an individual in -the Castle of Torrenburg, whose influence -with her husband was omnipotent; but -for whom she felt an aversion so insurmountable, -that scarcely could she endure -him in her presence; and whom she -was rash enough to endeavour at removing, -before she had examined whether -her strength was equal to the undertaking, -and whether this offence -offered to the antient household gods, -might not draw down some heavy -punishment upon her own unsuspecting -head.</p> - -<p class='c017'>This detested and persecuted object -of Elizabeth’s efforts was no other, than -<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>the keeper of all the consciences in the -Castle of Torrenburg, was no other -than the devout Father Hilarius! She -was not aware, that it was to him and -his saints, that she was chiefly indebted -for the illustrious title which she bore, -and the splendid station which she occupied. -Perhaps, even had she been -conscious of her obligation, she would -have but little approved of the crooked -paths, by which the Friar had contrived -to conduct her to her elevated situation.</p> - -<p class='c017'>In fulfilment of his vow, Count Frederick -had recompensed the patron-saints -of his two clerical allies most liberally -for the possession of his adored Elizabeth. -The chaplain of Castle-March -(whose only capital fault was avarice) -was well contented with the reward of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>his exertions: not so was Hilarius! -He had formed far greater plans, and -indulged more glorious expectations. -He had made no sort of doubt, that he -should gain no less a share of the wife’s -confidence, than he already possest of -the husband’s. Instead of this, he obtained -from her nothing but aversion -and contempt; and from the moment -of his being convinced, that such were -her sentiments towards him, fury took -entire possession of his misanthropic -heart, and he brooded day and night -over plans of swift-coming vengeance.</p> - -<p class='c017'>His disappointment in the present was -greatly embittered by his foreseeing the -failure of all those hopes, which he had -long grounded upon the future. Much -time had not elapsed since his marriage, -when the superannuated Frederick communicated -<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>to the chaplain in confidence -certain dispositions of his estates after -his death, which could not fail to be -highly disagreeable to the avaricious -Monk. Every day more fascinated by -the perfections of his beautiful wife, the -Count tortured himself to discover -some means, by which he might express -in the most striking manner his gratitude -to her, whose attentions shed a -gleam of such bright sunshine over the -evening of his closing life. He secretly -bequeathed to her every thing, which it -was possible for him to give, without -entirely laying aside all justice to the -young Countesses of Werdenberg: since -much as he held himself insulted by -their late conduct, still he was too generous -to deprive them of any thing, to -which the name which they bore could -<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>enable them to advance the claims of -justice.</p> - -<p class='c017'>His confessor was initiated into all -these mysteries. Scarcely while he -listened to them, could Hilarius restrain -his rage within the bounds of decency. -He saw all the fond hopes, which he had -built upon Frederick’s want of heirs -and attachment to the church and its -servants, destroyed at one blow; and -he gnashed his teeth for spite to think, -that it was out of his power to prevent -the Count’s benevolent intentions towards -his wife from being carried into -immediate and complete effect.</p> - -<p class='c017'>As for Elizabeth, she was entirely -ignorant of those weighty proofs of his -affection, which Count Frederick designed -for her after his decease. She was -equally ignorant of the spite and envy, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>which this large bequest had excited -against her in one of the most malignant -of human hearts. She continued to proceed -in her straight-forward benevolent -course without turning to the right or to -the left: she treated her decrepit husband -with unabated kindness and attention -unwearied; and she denied herself no -opportunity of convincing Hilarius, that -he was the object of her fixed aversion, -and that she was decidedly bent on procuring -sooner or later his expulsion -from the Castle of Torrenburg.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Oh! that she had carried that design -into execution before one of the basest -attempts, that ever was plotted by a -villain’s brain, was ripe enough for -action! Yet perhaps the will of Heaven -ordained, that this plan should be suffered -to ripen, in order that it might effect -<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>the overthrow of its guilty author, and -exhibit the merits of the noble lady of -the Castle in the fullest blaze of all their -purity and lustre!</p> - -<p class='c017'>Oh! generous Elizabeth! you for -whom I write, and for whom I trust, -that I have not written in vain! Is it -permitted me to relate your own glorious -actions to yourself? Yet why -do I hesitate?—She, who (I doubt not) -while perusing these leaves has not hesitated -to bestow many a tear of compassion -on the undeserved sorrows, many -a tribute of admiration on the heroic -patience, many an expression of delight -and gratitude at the fortunate escape, -of those whom she calls—“<i>her enemies</i>,”—surely -<i>she</i> need not avert her eyes, -while my faithful hand places her before -the glass, in which she may behold the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>reflection of her own excellence! She -knows well, that I am no flatterer. I -have not concealed from her, that she is -proud, rash, not disinclined to resentment -for injuries, and obstinate in -adhering to her determinations, however -inconsiderately those determinations -may have been formed. But -neither will I conceal, that I know her -to be generous, benevolent, courageous, -resolute, disinterested; an avowed -enemy of vice, however fascinating be -the shape which it assumes; an enthusiastic -adorer of virtue, however humble -be the station which it occupies, however -lowly be the habit which it wears. Such -is the faint portrait of her, whom future -historians will paint in far more brilliant -colours; such is the portrait of Elizabeth -of Torrenburg!</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>Hilarius had long been secretly connected -with a society of mountaineers, -who (by means of the private entrance -to the Donat-Fortress) might be reckoned -the Count’s nearest neighbours. -The precise nature of this union between -the Monk and the Banditti belongs to -the secret history of these miscreants, -in which we are not sufficiently well -instructed to authorize our giving any -account of it in these memoirs. Let it -suffice, that the union was a very close -one; perhaps, it was a long-established -custom for the robbers to connect themselves -with some ecclesiastic, in memory -of the original founder of their society, -the celebrated Abbot Luprian. Alas! -it is a very painful task for me, myself -an ecclesiastic, the successor of that -Abbot Luprian, the cotemporary of this -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>Monk Hilarius, to point out the stains, -with which the vices of individuals have -polluted the sacred habit!—Yet it is -essential, that the whole truth should be -laid before Elizabeth’s eyes, and I will -not hesitate to perform my duty to the -full.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The avarice of Hilarius was insatiable. -The custody of that deserted quarter of -the Count’s residence, which was now -only known by the name of the Donat-Fortress, -was intrusted to him; nothing -could be more convenient for the robbers -than such a retreat, where they -could either take refuge, when the -pursuit after them was too hot to admit -of their venturing back to their valley; -or where they could remain concealed -and unsuspected of being in the neighbourhood, -till the precise moment should -<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>arrive for executing their plans of -devastation with the most complete -success. Accordingly, no sum appeared -to them to counterbalance the value of -such a refuge; and Hilarius annually -received an immense tribute for allowing -them the use of the subterraneous passage, -and also of such of the apartments -of the Donat-Fortress, as were best -adapted to their purposes and profession. -Here they had a well-appointed armoury; -here they deposited their prey, -till circumstances admitted of its removal -to the valley; and here (among many -other precautions for their safety) they -had not neglected to lay in a large stock -of provisions, and above all several -hogsheads of the best old Rhenish -wine.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>But though they did not neglect any -occasion of increasing their wealth by -the plunder of passengers and of the -country at large, still there was one vast -undertaking, which lay most at the -hearts of <i>the Warriors of the Mountains</i>; -for that was the title, by which the -free-booters preferred being distinguished.—Of -this undertaking Hilarius was -the original suggestor, and without his -aid they were well aware, that it never -could be carried into execution. The -object of it was nothing less, than to put -the Warriors of the Mountains in possession -of the whole domains of the Count -of Torrenburg, with the exception of such -parts as his pious enthusiasm should have -induced him to bequeath to the Convent, -of which Hilarius was a worthy member. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>The plans were so well arranged, that -nothing could seem more improbable -than a failure: nothing indeed prevented -their having been already carried -into execution except the immoderate -price, which Hilarius demanded in -recompense of his services.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Matters, however, were so nearly concluded -between the contracting parties, -that Hilarius had occasionally introduced -some of the principal robbers into the -Castle in various disguises, in order -that they might become thoroughly -acquainted with the nature of the place, -which they were to attack; might spy -out the weaker parts of its defences; -and by being aware of the obstacles to -their designs, might be prepared to -overcome them. Confiding in the terrific -tales respecting the ghosts, which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>haunted it, he had even ventured frequently -to give his allies midnight -entertainments in the deserted chambers -of the Donat-Fortress. The superstitious -domestics shook with terror, as -they saw gleams of light streaming -through the worm-eaten casements, -and doubted not, that the ghosts of the -antient tyrants of Carlsheim and Sargans -had invited all the other infernal -spirits to a feast in their former earthly -residence. In this manner had the -Count’s enemies frequently been within -a few hundred yards of him unsuspected; -while he (good man) was dreaming, -that his barred portals and lifted draw-bridge -secured him against any possible -attack.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Yet his good fortune so ordained it, -that the striking this important blow, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>was still delayed from time to time: -Hilarius too was of opinion, that the -fittest time for making the long-meditated -attack would be immediately after -the Count’s decease, when the want of -lineal heirs must necessarily produce -much confusion among the numerous -claimants, and when in all probability the -Castle’s inhabitants would be found -entirely off their guard. The impatient -robbers were by no means satisfied with -this opinion: they were for making the -attempt immediately; but unless they -could convince Hilarius, their opposition -availed them nothing. He consented -to their taking possession of the Donat-Fortress; -but he took care to keep it -well locked and bolted, so that the -supposed spectres could not by any -means invade the inhabited part of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>Castle, till it should be his own good -will and pleasure to admit them.</p> - -<p class='c017'>It was at this period, that the Countesses -of Werdenberg were acknowledged -by Count Frederick, and were -immediately considered by the Monk -as obstacles to his designs. Looking -upon Constantia as destined to the veil, -his whole undivided hatred was monopolized -by Ida; and he never rested, -till he had ruined her in her uncle’s -good opinion, nay (by means of her -mysterious flight) in the good opinion -of the world. I have already related, -in what manner he delivered her into -the power of the robbers; who gratified -him doubly, first by relieving him -from a person whose absence he wished, -and whose blood he was not quite -villain enough to shed with his own -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>hands, and secondly by rewarding him -for the possession of so lovely a girl -with a considerable sum of money.</p> - -<p class='c017'>As to what became afterwards of -the unhappy Ida, that was a matter of -little interest to Father Hilarius: but -it would have been a matter of very -<i>great</i> interest, if he had guest Randolf’s -intention of giving himself a -legal claim to the inheritance of Sargans -by the possession of her hand, and of -reinstating the detested Ida hereafter -in those rights, of which the Monk had -taken so much trouble to deprive -her.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The daily presents, which Frederick’s -generosity bestowed on his spiritual -guide, made the latter by no means -anxious to see the moment of his -patron’s dissolution. He had forwarded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>to the utmost of his power Elizabeth’s -marriage, not only on account of the -advantages promised both to himself -and his Convent by the superannuated -lover, whenever this union should be -accomplished, but also from being persuaded, -that the affectionate care of -such a wife would be giving the Count -a new lease for many years of existence.</p> - -<p class='c017'>But when the Monk perceived Elizabeth’s -decided aversion to himself, and -that her remonstrances had already -produced a degree of coolness in her -husband towards both his person and his -counsels, he found it necessary to hasten -the execution of his plans. The venom -of spite and vengeance, which had so -long been working in his heart, at -length overflowed; the glimmering -sparks of treason broke into flames; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>his intercourse with the Warriors of the -Mountain grew more close than ever; -and the peaceable inhabitants of the -Castle were almost terrified out of their -senses at the frequent feasts given by -the ghosts of the antient Lords of -Sargans.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The reports relative to the goblins -of the Donat-Fortress at length reached -Elizabeth. She had the rashness on -one of these terrific nights, when all -the other inmates of the Castle went -about obstinately with their eyes and -ears shut, as obstinately to keep hers -wide open. Unattended, she ventured -to approach the deserted chambers; and -the sounds which reached her, as she -stood without, convinced her, that if -they really proceeded from spirits, those -spirits must needs have retained a considerable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>portion of their former earthly -habits.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Not the most distant suspicion of -what really was the occasion of this -uproar, was likely to suggest itself to -her mind. She only concluded, and -very naturally, that the belief in apparitions -served some of her domestics -as a cloak to hide their midnight and -dissolute entertainments from the -knowledge of their superiors. This -was a practice, to which as mistress of -the family she thought it absolutely -necessary to put an immediate stop. -Accordingly, without loss of time she -informed her husband of what she had -observed, and of what she supposed to -be the fact: the household was immediately -summoned, and ordered to -attend their Lord and Lady to the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>haunted chambers, which they were -determined to examine without a moment’s -delay.</p> - -<p class='c017'>But the uninvited guests were already -aware of their approach. One of Elizabeth’s -women was in the confidence of -the Monk, and hastened to warn him -by a signal previously agreed upon, that -danger was at hand. Hilarius immediately -insisted, that the lights should -be extinguished, and that the Banditti -should retire with all speed through -the secret passage, which (he asserted) -would be the most spirit-like way of -taking their departure. But the robbers, -who were heated with wine, declared, -that it was high time for them to lay -aside the characters of spirits, and that -they never should find a more prosperous -moment for making their long-meditated -<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>attack, than the present. -The continual postponement of this -attack had long made them suspect -their ally of playing them false, and -they had prepared themselves for taking -the power out of his hands with the -very first favourable opportunity—the -caverns below were filled with Banditti: -those who were in the fortress were no -inconsiderable number; and confident -of a fresh supply of troops if necessary, -they rushed forwards to meet the -Lord of the Castle, without deigning -to summon to their assistance their -friends in the cavern. Indeed, they -looked upon victory not only as certain, -but easy, when their only antagonists -were terrified domestics, headed by no -better generals than an inexperienced -female, and a gray-headed man just -<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>escaped from the bed of sickness, and -weighed down by the number of his -years. Accordingly, without listening -to the Monk’s remonstrances, they -rushed towards the great portal; and -Elizabeth with her followers no sooner -entered the court, in which the Donat-Fortress -was situated, than to their -utter surprize they found themselves -attacked on all sides.</p> - -<p class='c017'>How lively were the colours, in -which the enraptured Frederick described -to me this the most glorious -transaction of Elizabeth’s life!—with -what enthusiasm did <i>he</i> relate, with -what enthusiasm did <i>I</i> hear, how in -this moment of consternation Elizabeth -alone preserved her presence of mind -and the look of undaunted resolution; -how, when her terrified attendants recoiled -<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>at the approach of the supposed -spectres, she showed them the sword, -which gleamed in the weak hands of -their aged master, urged them to -defend a life so precious, and shamed -them by reproaches into following his -example; how she wrested from the -hand of a beardless robber the weapon, -which he already pointed against her -husband’s heart, and instantly buried it -in the assassin’s own; how when the -weak old Frederick was at length struck -to the earth, she threw herself before -him, and made her breast his shield; -and how while occupied in this generous -office, and while thus devoting her -own life in order to preserve his, she -received a wound upon her brow, -whose scar now forms the noblest ornament -of the most lovely face in all -Helvetia!</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>Frederick was wounded, and his -attendants conveyed him away from the -scene of action; but Elizabeth still -maintained her post, directing by her -advice, and invigorating by her presence -the small but faithful body of her -retainers. The Banditti found by this -time, that victory was not to be so -easily gained, as they had hitherto expected; -and they thought it prudent -to summon to their assistance the -lurkers in the subterraneous caverns. -Elizabeth perceived, that the numbers -of the assailants was suddenly and -alarmingly increased. Every moment -seemed to add to their strength, and -it was evident, that unless some means -of preventing the foe from profiting by -this new accession of power could be -discovered, every thing was lost. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>Fortunately, in this critical moment the -eye of the Heroine rested upon the -portcullis, which on account both of -its weight and workmanship was -esteemed a master-piece of art. She -sprang forwards; she still grasped the -sword, of which she had deprived the -robber, and with a single blow she -severed the sustaining cord. It fell -with a heavy crash, and destroyed in -its descent several of the new-comers, -who were over-hasty in flying to -the assistance of their hardly-pressed -companions.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Courage, my friends!” exclaimed -Elizabeth with a sudden burst of joy; -“resist your enemies but for a few -minutes longer, and we are safe! hark, -how the alarm-bells make the air resound! -and see! the castle-portals are -<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>thrown open! rejoice! rejoice! our -preservers are at hand!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>It had been one of the Countess’s -first orders, that the alarm-bells should -be sounded without delay, and as soon -as any signs were observed of obedience -to the signal for assistance, that the -Warder should set wide the gates for -the reception of those, who might -hasten to their relief. She was obeyed; -but no one expected, that these precautions -would bring them any more -powerful succour than the presence of -a few bands of peasants, armed in haste, -and unaccustomed to such midnight -attacks; or else perhaps the troops of -some of the neighbouring noblemen, -but who were all at too great a distance -to admit of their reaching the Castle -of Torrenburg, before the business -should have been finally decided.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>But Elizabeth, when she gave these -orders, was better aware of their importance. -The terrible event, which I -have just been describing, took place -on the night preceding St. Martin’s -festival. St. Martin’s day was also the -birth-day of the Count of Torrenburg; -a day, which Elizabeth now celebrated -for the first time, since she became a -wife, and which she was determined to -distinguish by a most splendid entertainment. -For many weeks had her -messengers been employed in traversing -the neighbouring provinces, for the -purpose of inviting the most distinguished -noblemen and their families to -be present at a tournament, to be held -at the Castle of Torrenburg in honour -of the nativity of its Lord. Count -Frederick, though he was now too much -enfeebled by age to admit of his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>taking a part in them himself, still -delighted in witnessing such martial -sports: they recalled to him many a -pleasing and many a glorious occurrence -of his honourable life; and Elizabeth -had not failed to select for his amusement -on his birth-day that particular -species, which, her own observation -and the experience of others had given -her reason to know, would be most -acceptable to her husband.</p> - -<p class='c017'>It was on this very night, that the -invited guests were expected at the -Castle, accompanied by their wives and -daughters with a numerous retinue. -It had been settled, that they should not -arrive till after midnight, in order that -their being in the Castle might continue -unknown to the Count till the -next morning; when it was Elizabeth’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>design to conduct him (still -ignorant of what was going to take -place) to the prepared lists, where he -would unexpectedly find himself seated -in the circle of his best friends and -well-wishers, in order to witness that -kind of entertainment, in which he -most peculiarly delighted. All her -preparations had been made with the -greatest secrecy; none but a few of -her most immediate friends and domestics -were in her confidence; and -therefore few except herself were aware, -that the alarm-bells were sounded for -the purpose of calling to her assistance -those expected guests, who (she was -certain from the lateness of the hour) -must needs be at no great distance.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Her hopes were soon verified. The -draw-bridge had scarcely fallen, when -<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>it re-echoed under the hasty trampling -of horses’-hoofs. The court-yard was -soon filled with soldiers, who without -staying to demand what was the matter, -hastened with drawn swords to assist -the Countess and her faithful supporters. -Elizabeth was a heroine in the -moment of need; but her heart was -still that of a weak and tender female. -She was anxious to rejoin her bleeding -husband; her wound was painful; and -still more painful to her feelings was -the sight of the blood, which streamed -around her, and of the mangled corses -with which the pavement was strewed. -Most joyful was she, when she found -herself at liberty to resign her dangerous -and hateful post; her friend of -youth, Richard of Ulmenhorst, and -Count Oswald of March (her brother) -<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>took the command of her forces; and -she now flew to the chamber of that -husband, who but a few minutes before -had been indebted to her for his life. -She found, that his wound (it was but -a slight one) was already drest; and -that he was earnestly insisting, that his -attendants should lead him to rejoin -his glorious wife, and suffer him either -to conquer by her side, or perish with -that dear one: they sank into each -other’s arms, and melted into tears of -joy at finding themselves once more in -safety. Seldom have youthful lovers, -even in their happiest moments, felt -such unmixed pleasure, as was now felt -by Elizabeth, while she clasped the -decrepit Frederick to her heart.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Before day-break the victory was -complete. The knights, who had been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>invited to a mock-fight, and had found -one so serious, did not leave their work -only half finished—the portcullis was -raised again; every corner of the Donat-Fortress -was investigated: the entrance -to the subterraneous vaults was found -open and unguarded, and these also -underwent an examination. Here a -considerable number of the free-booters -were discovered, and after an obstinate -resistance slaughtered; but a few of -them found means to effect their escape -from the caverns, and carried the news -of this disaster to their associates in -the valley of Halsberg.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Gero was one of the first, who fell -in the assault; Randolf was taken -prisoner: as to the author of all this -mischief, the infamous Hilarius, he was -found to all appearance lifeless in one -<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>of the caverns, whither he had retreated -during the heat of the combat. He -had suffered so severely both in the -conflict, and from the pressure of those, -who (like himself) crowded to take -refuge in the secret vaults, that though -life was not quite extinct in him, he -expired, before he had time to acknowledge -his numerous transgressions, and -receive their absolution. My knowledge -of his private transactions and -views was gleaned from the writings, -which were afterwards found in his -chamber, and in his cell at the Convent, -of which he was so unworthy a member. -These papers were confided to me by -the Bishop of Coira; and their contents -were such as rendered them highly -improper to meet the eyes of the -laity; who are already but too apt to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>scoff, when a church-man slips, and -from whom the servants of Religion -ought carefully to veil the errors of -her unsteady children.—But the love -of truth, the interests of justice, and the -welfare of two poor persecuted creatures, -made it necessary for me to place -everything in the clearest light before -the eyes of her, who (I am certain) -needs only to be convinced, that they -are <i>really</i> persecuted, in order to become -their most strenuous defender.</p> - -<p class='c017'>So entirely had their evil star the -ascendant, that even this overthrow of -their enemies only served to make the -Sisters appear in the eyes of the world -in a still more odious point of view. -Hilarius died without having time to -acknowledge the pains, which he had -taken to effect Ida’s ruin: it was not till -<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>lately, that I obtained the certainty of -the Monk’s perfidy, and of the innocence -of my poor wards; facts appeared -so strong against her, that even I for -a considerable time was compelled to -give up the fruitless office of defending -her; and the proofs, which spoke so loudly -in her disfavour, seemed to increase -in number with every fresh occurrence. -Several of the robbers had been made -prisoners, and underwent a close examination -respecting the authors of their -enterprize and its object. Among -other things, they confest, that a damsel, -understood to be a Countess of Werdenberg, -had made a long abode in -their society; that she was evidently -the object of their captain’s affection; -and that it was reported among the -Banditti, that she had consented to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>become his wife, on condition of his -establishing her claims to the domains -of Sargans and Carlsheim by force of -arms. Randolf, being questioned respecting -these assertions, in a great -measure confirmed them; he only -denied, that Ida had ever given her -consent in express words to the enterprize; -but he profest his firm belief, -that on those conditions he had every -reason to believe her disposed to unite -her fate with his. He had dropped -such plain hints of his designs against -the Count, that she could not possibly -have misunderstood him, though her discretion -made her prefer the appearing -ignorant of a scheme, whose object was -the ruin of her former benefactor: but -as she must have gathered his intention -from various circumstances, and as she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>continued to treat him, not merely -with unabated, but even with increased -complaisance, he had certainly good -reason to suppose, that his meditated -plan was by no means disagreeable to -her.—Alas! poor Ida! had she dared -to abate that complaisance, and to express -the sentiments of abhorrence, with -which the robber’s views inspired her, -what would have been her reward?—ill -usage; death perhaps; or what -would have been still worse, life with -the loss of honour!</p> - -<p class='c017'>But these reflections did not occur -to Randolf or his hearers; they believed -his arguments to be well founded, and -that Ida had approved of the design, -which had so nearly terminated her -benefactor’s existence. That she had -been privy to it, is true: she had not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>misunderstood Randolf’s hints, though -she was not aware of the exact nature -of his intentions; but no sooner was -she in safety, than her first object was -to provide for that of the Count of -Torrenburg.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The village, which at length afforded -them security and rest, was called Edel-Bothen: -here they were compelled to -pass the night and the succeeding morning, -in order to recover from the -fatigues of their late painful journey; -and it was from hence, that a messenger -was dispatched to the Castle of Torrenburg -with a letter, written by Constantia -in a disguised hand and without -a signature. Ida, who still trembled at -the thoughts of being either compelled -to give her hand to the old Count of -Montfort, or to seclude herself for life -<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>within the dreary walls of a cloister, -was unwilling to let her incensed uncle -know, where she might be found; -and Constantia, though she had herself -no motive for concealment, was afraid -of being the means of discovering her -sister. With much difficulty, and after -many unsuccessful attempts, the following -lines were at length completed, -and a peasant was dispatched with them -to the Castle of Torrenburg.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span> - <h3 class='c018'><i>Count of Torrenburg!</i></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c019'>Peruse these lines from an unknown -but sincere friend, who trembles, lest the -warning should come too late. In your -domestic priest, the worthless Hilarius, -you nourish a traitor, whose plans if -successful will terminate in your destruction. -He has already driven many -innocent persons into the jaws of ruin: -and now to finish his career with a -master stroke of villainy, he meditates -the overthrow of his generous benefactor. -Secure him, and let him and -his papers undergo a strict examination. -Above all, set a watch over the Donat-Fortress, -and let the private entrance -<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>be carefully closed up, which you will -find on the left hand of the window in -the large chamber, which terminates the -southern wing of the ruins. That -entrance communicates with a subterraneous -passage, well known to the robbers, -who have so long been the terror -of Helvetia, and with whom Hilarius -carries on the most intimate correspondence. -Hasten then to prevent their -making any ill use of their knowledge -of this communication; and if this -warning should be in time to save you -from danger, the writers of this letter -will thank Heaven as for a benefit conferred -upon themselves.</p> - -<hr class='c020' /> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>This well-meant epistle did not reach -the Castle of Torrenburg till several -days after St. Martin’s day. It was read -aloud at the Count’s table, when the hall -was almost filled with knights and ladies, -who were assembled there on account -of the festivities, with which Elizabeth -thought it right to celebrate her Lord’s -escape from the perilous Banditti. The -letter, while reading, was frequently -interrupted by loud bursts of scornful -laughter and expressions of derision -from the whole assembly; yet ’tis said, -that Frederick and Elizabeth did not -laugh, and were quite silent. It was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>easily guest, from whom this unavailing -warning came; and Count Oswald of -March, (whose family pride had been -stung to the quick by young Montfort’s -conduct on the bridal day, and whose -affection for his sister made him the -inveterate enemy of any one, who -offered her any injury or unkindness) -insisted upon being allowed to answer -the letter.</p> - -<p class='c017'>According to her instructions, Ida’s -messenger had no sooner delivered the -letter, than he hastened away from the -Castle: but two horsemen were dispatched -after him in all haste, and the -peasant was compelled to return for an -answer. That answer pained the Sisters -to the very heart; they preserved it -carefully; they read it over and over -again, and every time with fresh pain; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>and they at length showed it to me, as -a proof of their total renunciation by -their uncle. Count Oswald had written -as follows.</p> - -<hr class='c020' /> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>The fair Ida’s well-conceived letter -arrived at the very time, which she intended; -that is, when it was too late to -be of any use. First to invent schemes -of treachery, and then when they fail, -to assume the part of a warning friend -against those very schemes, was certainly -one of the most dexterous artifices, -that ever was produced by female -ingenuity! Unfortunately, there are -some people, who are not deceived even -by artifices so dexterous. The Count -of Torrenburg has been rescued from -the Banditti, not by the fair Ida’s warning -<i>after</i> the event had taken place, but -by the courage and affection of an angel, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>whose name was once Elizabeth of -March; whose name would have been -Elizabeth of Montfort, had it not been -for the fair Ida’s coquetry; and whose -name is now Elizabeth of Torrenburg, -in spite of all the pains, which the fair -Ida gave herself to prevent her ever -bearing that illustrious title. Yes! Elizabeth -is Countess of Torrenburg: I -protest, I cannot but pity the poor damsel -Ida for so severe a disappointment, as -this union must give to her views upon -Count Frederick’s inheritance. Besides -the loss of her benefactor’s good opinion, -she has also to regret that of her lover -the robber Randolf, who inhabits one of -the Count’s dungeons; so that all her -hopes in that quarter are completely -annihilated. It seems too, that she has -not even contrived to secure the light and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>worthless heart of Henry of Montfort, -who (probably grown already weary of -her) has returned to his uncle’s residence; -as report says, a sincere penitent -for having suffered himself to lose such -a treasure as the hand and heart of -Elizabeth through the artifices of a perfidious -coquette. Probably by this time -the fair Ida has found out, that this -maxim contains more truth than she -supposed; viz. “that crooked paths -lead to precipices.”</p> - -<p class='c017'>Randolf, the fair Ida’s lover, is a -prisoner; Henry of Montfort, the fair -Ida’s dupe, has recovered his senses; -Gero and Hilarius, the fair Ida’s friends, -are both dead; and Count Frederick, the -fair Ida’s intended victim, is aware, that -Hilarius is not the only snake, whom he -has warmed in his bosom.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>Count Frederick of Torrenburg sends -the fair Ida his best wishes for her -speedy repentance, and ventures to -suggest, that a convent will be in future -her fittest residence.—He begs however, -that this may only be considered as his -<i>advice</i>; since looking upon her no -longer as his relation, he has no longer -any right to give her a command. At -all events, he begs, that whether she -takes that advice or not, she will not -think it necessary to inform him of her -proceedings, since he has now but one -wish on earth respecting her; to hear of -her no more!</p> - -<hr class='c020' /> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>Ida’s tears streamed plentifully, -while she read these cutting lines. She -gave the letter in silence to Constantia, -who felt the unmerited reproaches no -less acutely than her sister. A long -pause ensued, which at length was -broken by Constantia.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“There is no mention made of <i>me</i>!” -said she,—“no more, than if I were no -longer in existence!—Well! well! it -is better to be quite forgotten, than to -be so remembered!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“How could they guess,” exclaimed -Ida, “that <i>I</i> was the writer of -that letter?—a letter, which He, who -sees the heart, can witness for me, I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>wrote out of pure good will to my -unkind uncle.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“And how strange,” rejoined -Constantia, “that they should misunderstand -your character so completely, -as to believe you capable of such perfidy! -And how cruel of them to insult -your misfortunes by such an unfeeling -taunting letter!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>With such inquiries did they torture -themselves during a whole tedious day; -and they endeavoured in vain to discover, -what part of Ida’s conduct could -have authorised a man, who had once -shown her so much benevolence, to -view her on a sudden in a light so perfectly -odious. It appeared too from this -letter, that Count Frederick’s ill opinion -of her was also the opinion of the -world; and what had she done to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>deserve this universal ill opinion?—The -Sisters were not aware, that a prejudice -once conceived gains strength with every -minute, and presses into its services the -most insignificant occurrences: till the -supposed offence from a molehill is -swelled into a mountain, and shade -added to shade gradually makes the -detested object appear in colours sufficiently -black, to <i>justify</i> its being made -the object of detestation.</p> - -<p class='c017'>No mention had been made of Constantia -in Count Oswald’s letter, because -on the one hand her gentle inoffensive -manners had prevented her having -any enemies; and on the other -hand, her supposed participation in her -sister’s plans prevented the parties concerned -from being her friends.—It -appeared, that after quitting the Castle -<span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>of March on the memorable day of -Elizabeth’s intended wedding she had -not thought proper to return to her -convent. She had been way-laid by -those robbers, who (as it was now -believed) were at that very time in confederacy -with her sister. No one -doubted, that the free-booters had acted -under Ida’s directions, and with Constantia’s -concurrence; that the latter -was totally under the influence of the -former; and that if the one sister was -not quite so deserving of censure as -the other, she was at least equally unworthy -of protection. It was concluded, -that she was at that moment -Ida’s companion; and it was agreed by -all, that the most proper mode of treating -her, was not to bestow on her even -the slightest notice.</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>When the bitterness of the first shock -was over, the Sisters found, that they -had no reason to consider their situation -as at all altered for the worse by the -perusal of this insulting letter. It had -not been in their contemplation to effect -a reconciliation with the Count of Torrenburg; -after so much as they had -suffered, they no longer indulged a wish -for any thing except retirement and repose. -Ida’s resentment against her -lover, for having offered his hand to -Elizabeth, was not yet appeased: and -after the injurious suspicions, to which -her conduct at the Castle of March had -(as she learned from Count Oswald’s -letter) given rise, she thought it highly -incumbent on her to make no inquiries -respecting him. She accordingly resolved -to verify the remainder of her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>sister’s fortunate vision, and re-assume -the name of Rosanna Tell.—Constantia -for a while refused to follow her example, -and declared her determination of -hiding herself for ever from the world -in the Convent of Engelberg: but Ida -besought her, with so much earnestness -and with so many tears, “not to deprive -her of the society of the only person, -who still loved her, and whom she -still dared to love,” that Constantia was -compelled however reluctantly to give -way.</p> - -<p class='c017'>A ring of some value, which Ida wore -on the day, which made her a captive, -and of which Randolf’s respect had -prevented his depriving her, purchased a -small hut and garden, in which the -Countesses of Werdenberg were but too -happy to obtain a shelter. Here then -<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>they remained in tranquil obscurity, -unknowing and unknown: till the -decease of the Count of Torrenburg and -its consequences compelled them once -more to take a part in the world, and -again become acquainted with its splendours, -and its cares.</p> - -<p class='c017'>By the will of Count Frederick, the -whole of his domains descended to his -wife; the Damsels of Werdenberg were -disinherited, nor was this sufficient. -A clause of the most disgraceful import -declared the Count’s reasons for renouncing -them, and thus held them up -to the world as proper marks for the -finger of contempt. It seems, that there -still existed a younger branch of the -House of Werdenberg, but with whose -members the Sisters had never held any -intercourse. The ignominious clause in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>Count Frederick’s will greatly offended -the pride of these high-born noblemen. -That any persons belonging to their -family should deserve to be mentioned -upon record in such opprobrious terms, -appeared to them the most intolerable -of all offences; and they vowed never -to rest, till they had compelled the -delinquents to renounce their title to a -name, which (till they assumed it) had -never been stained with disgrace.—They -agitated this business with so -much effect, that at length an act was -obtained from the Emperor, enjoining -two Damsels calling themselves by the -names of Ida and Constantia, Countesses -of Werdenberg, to lay aside those titles, -as having forfeited them by their disgraceful -conduct, even supposing that -they really possest by birth a right to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>bear them; a fact, of which, the act professed -to doubt the veracity.—It also -forbade the reception of the said Damsels -into any religious community, except -such as were specified by name, and -which were those only, whose institution -(as was universally known) permitted -the acceptance of persons of -dissolute characters for the laudable -purpose of reformation.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The Lords of Werdenberg were so -diligent in making this act public, that -it even reached the obscure valley, in which -the Sisters had sheltered themselves -under borrowed names. Little -as they valued the pride of birth, and -the empty boast of high-sounding title, -the disgrace thrown upon them by this -so public act was too insulting to be endured -even by their humility. It was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>absolutely necessary, that some steps -should be taken to vindicate themselves -from such undeserved aspersions. Accordingly -without loss of time they -addrest letters to the Abbess of Zurich -and to their guardians, Abbot Conrad, -and the good Bishop of Coira. They -disclosed the place of their concealment, -asserted the gross injustice of the Emperor’s -act, and avowed their willingness -to lay every particular respecting themselves -or their conduct before either of -their guardians, or the respected Abbess.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Till this period they had neglected to -apply to these firm friends; because -they felt a total indifference to the -station, which they had lost; considered -the pleasures of the great world as -withdrawn from them for ever; and -only wished to pass the remainder of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>their lives in tranquillity and oblivion. -Their letters communicated the greatest -joy to those, to whom they were addrest; -and Abbot Conrad lost not a moment -in hastening to comfort the poor -afflicted ones, and to assure them of his -unabated regard and anxiety for their -welfare.</p> - -<p class='c017'>It was no difficult task for the Sisters -to convince this partial friend of their -innocence. He insisted upon the necessity -of their returning to the world, -and Constantia consented to quit her -solitude: but Ida was resolute never -again to resume her proper station, till -her honour and reputation were re-established -in their full purity and with -undiminished lustre.</p> - -<p class='c017'>And how is this to be effected? Oh! -Elizabeth, it is you alone, who can -<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>answer that question. You have seen, -how these unjustly persecuted Girls -have been deprived of every thing, of -their inheritance, of their fair fame, of -the very name, to which their birth -entitled them: you have seen their innocence -and your own error. Your -generosity, your love of justice will tell -you, what you ought to do: to those -noble sentiments, to your own noble self, -I dare trust my cause without a single -terror.—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Henry of Montfort’s illness had been -long and dangerous. He was scarcely -recovered, when two successive attacks -of apoplexy convinced his uncle of a -truth, which he had long been unwilling -to confess to himself. He could no -longer deny, that it would be more -suitable at his time of life to turn his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>thoughts towards the grave, than the -bridal bed; but still though he was himself -no longer the hero of them, his -marrying-plans preserved their long-established -dominion over his fancy. -Henry was his undoubted heir; his -attention to Count Egbert during his -illness had made a deep and very favourable -impression upon the old man’s -mind; he suddenly became a favourite, -to secure whose happiness in life was -now Count Egbert’s chief and almost -only object; and in the old man’s -opinion, happiness in life was to be -obtained by no other possible means, -than by marriage. Henry was nearly -of the same opinion with him. Unluckily, -the only point, on which they -differed, was the only material point in -the whole affair. Both agreed, that a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>marriage ought to take place; but each -proposed a different person, and neither -would give up the object of his choice. -Henry insisted upon his engagement -to Ida, and declared, that while she -existed, honour as well as love forbade -his offering his hand to another: while -Count Egbert protested with equal vehemence, -that he never would consent -to the union of his heir with a girl, -whom the last will of her nearest relation -had deprived of her inheritance -and devoted to disgrace. The bride of -his selection presented herself in a far -more flattering light; ’twas Elizabeth, -the young and admired heiress of Torrenburg, -whose hand would confer -wealth and power on her husband, and -whose heart had formerly been warmly -disposed in Henry’s favour. As he -listened to this eulogium upon Elizabeth, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>an involuntary sigh escaped from the nephew’s -bosom. Ah! he felt but too -sensibly the whole value of Elizabeth, -and was fully conscious, how dear she -would have been to him, had not Ida -possest prior and more forcible claims -on his affections. Now all thoughts of -Elizabeth were quite unavailing: his -heart by right was another’s, and was -no longer worthy of Elizabeth’s acceptance. -This he declared to his uncle, -and exprest his resolution of keeping -his engagements to Ida in terms so -strong, that the old Count lost his -patience completely. In the heat of -passion, he ordered Henry to quit the -Castle that instant, nor ever presume to -come again into his presence.</p> - -<p class='c017'>He was obeyed; but the command -was scarcely given, before it was repented -of. He reflected, that this very -<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>banishment would leave his nephew at -liberty to contract the union, which it -was so much his wish to prevent. The -old man was little acquainted with Ida’s -character and turn of mind: he knew -not, that delicate as were her notions -on the subject of honour, the warmest -entreaties of her beloved Henry would -by no means be sufficient to persuade -her to become Countess of Montfort.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Count Egbert’s guards followed -Henry, overtook him, and brought him -back to his paternal Castle, where he -was ordered into close confinement. -How little did the writer of these lines -ever imagine, that he should live to see -menaces and chains employed, in order -to compel a youth to give his hand to -Elizabeth of March!</p> - -<p class='c017'>Henry exclaimed loudly against such -injustice! He demanded, that the opinion -<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>of his proposed bride should be -taken in this affair. He declared himself -convinced, that he could not possibly -appeal to a more just tribunal, and that -after what had past, a proposal of marriage -would be rejected with no less firmness -by Elizabeth, than by himself. The -old Count denied this last assertion most -positively. He maintained (and not -without some show of plausibility) that -in spite of his past offences Elizabeth -was still weak enough to cherish a secret -attachment to the man, by whom she -had been so unworthily forsaken: nay, -he even went so far as to profess his -firm belief, that the severity, with which -she had treated the Damsels of Werdenberg, -had its origin in this attachment; -and that nothing but female spite and -jealousy against a successful rival, made -<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>her so obstinately shut her eyes and -ears against the justice of those claims, -which in the opinion of many persons -(thoroughly capable to decide upon such -matters) were held to be most just, and -founded on an unquestionable basis.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Such indeed was now the general -opinion. Time, and the exertions of -their guardians had cleared up many -suspicious circumstances respecting the -Sisters; and the popular cry was fast -turning to the side of Count Frederick’s -lineal heirs. Their uncle’s testament -underwent much censure, and created a -kind of prejudice and ill will against Her, -who had benefited by it so largely. -Elizabeth herself was in some measure -the cause of this loss of public estimation, -which in truth every day diminished. -She had accustomed the world -<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>for so long to see her act with uniform -generosity, and to consider her as a -person totally exempt from the ordinary -imperfections of her sex, that as soon as -her husband’s will was made public, -every one prepared themselves for some -decided act of heroic self-denial in favour -of the disinherited Sisters; and which -perhaps they would not have expected -from any other than Elizabeth, because -they would not have believed any other -capable of such an act. However, it is -certain, that from Her they <i>did</i> expect -it; it is also certain, that their expectations -were disappointed; and unwilling -to allow, that they had themselves -required too much, they were extremely -displeased with Her, whom they accused -of not having done enough. Besides -this, Elizabeth evidently fell into a great -<span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>error, in dealing with her inherited -possessions, as if they had been her -own purchased and personal property. -Formed by nature to be no less rash -than generous, she gave away whole -districts, castles, and towns with as little -concern, as if they had been of no more -value than the roses, which encircled -her head or bloomed upon her bosom.</p> - -<p class='c017'>This inconsiderate liberality produced -the greatest discontent among those -subjects, whom she bestowed away -with so little ceremony. She is already -informed of the uproar and confusion, -which ensued; but she is by no means -aware of the extreme danger, in -which she was at one time involved. -The discontented vassals denied her -right to make them over to another, -and declared themselves to be lawfully -<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>the vassals of the young Countesses of -Werdenberg: they entered into a secret -correspondence with the neighbouring -Switzers: they dispatched messengers -to the valley, where the Sisters had -taken refuge, and assured them of their -firm resolution to support their rights. -Constantia was already departed; they -found Ida alone in her humble cottage, -and made the purport of their coming -known to her. Tears of joy trickled -down her cheeks as she listened, and -her first words were prayers of gratitude -to Heaven.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“My worthy friends,” said she at -length, “your words have given me -the only comfort, which I now could -look for on this side the grave! The -Ida, whom a whole good and honest -people demands for their sovereign, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>can never be that traitress, that unprincipled -wanton, that ungrateful snake, -which I have been termed so publicly -and so unjustly. Your application has -given me back my honour, has reconciled -me with myself: this is all I could wish -for; now leave me, my friends, and -bear with you my warmest thanks. Be -faithful to your liege-lady; Heaven and -my uncle’s will have destined her for -your protectress, and you will find -her a noble one. I know well her -merits, and admire them; I envy her -not her good fortune; but be assured, -that even did my happiness depend on -my establishing those rights, which you -state me to possess, the Ida whom your -deputation has thus signally honoured, -at least deserves that honour too well, -to seek any benefit however great by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>clandestine, and therefore by unworthy -means.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>The deputies listened to her with -astonishment; they requested her to -reflect coolly upon their proposals, and -left her with a promise to return.</p> - -<p class='c017'>And they <i>did</i> return, furnished with -new and much more forcible arguments;—and -yet those arguments were employed -in vain. They had discovered -Ida’s former affection for Henry: they -applied to Count Egbert, and laid their -plans before him. As they appeared to -reconcile all differences between his -nephew and himself, he readily promised -his assistance: and the deputies -now delivered a letter to Ida, in which -Count Egbert assured her of Henry’s -unabated attachment: he magnified the -fortitude, with which his nephew had resisted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>all attempts to shake his fidelity; -and he conjured her to accept the title of -Countess of Montfort, since without the -possession of her hand there was no -happiness in life for Henry.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The poor Ida wept, as she read this -letter: every line seemed an arrow in -her very heart. She was conscious, -that in her present humble state she -could never become her lover’s bride, -and that the old Count’s consent was -entirely grounded on the prospect of -her succeeding to Count Frederick’s -inheritance.—Yet she still shuddered at -the thoughts of obtaining the accomplishment -of her fondest wishes by -means, which she felt to be unworthy -of her; she still positively rejected the -proposals of the embassy, and declared -herself convinced, that Henry of Montfort -<span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>was as little disposed as herself to -assist any plan, whose object was to -injure Elizabeth. The deputies still -prest her to comply; they would take -no refusal; and at length to free herself -from their importunity she left the -valley privately, and took refuge within -a Convent, the name of which she concealed -from every one except her sister -and the Abbot of Cloister-Curwald.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Elizabeth’s knowledge of these transactions -was confined to their mere outward -appearance. She knew, that she -was calumniated by secret enemies, and -justified by unknown friends; but little -did she suspect, that these favourable -judges of her conduct were those very -persons, against whom she had nourished -in her heart the most inveterate -prejudice. Its true, that she was not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>without real friends, willing even to -risk her displeasure, rather than suffer -her to labour under such gross errors: -the Abbot of Curwald often endeavoured -to lay the history of the unfortunate -Sisters before her eyes, but in vain: -No one understood better than Elizabeth -the secret of imposing silence on those, -whom she suspected of an intention to -say that, which it was by any means -disagreeable to her to hear.</p> - -<p class='c017'>She suddenly thought fit to take up -her abode in the Convent of Zurich, -and there indulge her grief for the loss -of Count Frederick without restraint. -This was a step, which her differences -with her discontented vassals rendered -both agreeable to herself, and proper in -the eye of the world: into the bargain, -it possest the further advantage (though -<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>she thought it as well to confine this -motive for her seclusion to her own -bosom) of freeing her from the wearisome -remonstrances of the Abbot, and -from the truths, which he was so obstinately -bent upon placing before her eyes. -It’s true, she was still exposed to receiving -letters from him; but those it was -in her power not to answer; or indeed -not even to read, if the first lines gave -her reason to believe, that the remainder -would afford her but little satisfaction.</p> - -<p class='c017'>But Elizabeth was too good, too -noble, to be entirely deserted by truth -and virtue, however sedulously she -strove to shun them. They pursued -her to the Convent, and their imploring -voices often spoke to her in the stillness -of her solitary cell. I know from good -authority, that many a seed of good has -<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>fallen upon her heart, which she has vainly -endeavoured to choak in brambles: and -should I succeed in my attempt to seduce -her unconsciously into perusing the history -of the Damsels of Werdenberg, -under the title of “The Sisters without -a Name,” (a title, which describes them -but too well, since injustice and error -have robbed them of their proper one) -I shall look upon the victory as already -won.</p> - -<p class='c017'>And yet by such a victory, what will -be gained? How is it in Elizabeth’s -power to benefit these persecuted girls? -Constantia, who (unknown to her former -friend) now inhabits the same -Convent with her, demands nothing in -this world except permission to take the -veil: Ida is contented with her humble -habitation near the Lake of Thun; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>and far from requiring from Elizabeth -anything more than mutual forgiveness, -she is willing to compensate for the involuntary -mortification, which she caused -to her on her bridal day, by the sacrifice -of every thing; even of that, which she -holds dearest! Yes, Elizabeth; she -is willing to sacrifice even the hand and -affections of her Henry!</p> - -<p class='c017'>The proposal made by the deputies of -Elizabeth’s rebellious vassals was laid -before Henry by his uncle. The plan, -whose object was the ruin of the unsuspecting -Countess of Torrenburg, was so -well laid, and the preparations were in -such forwardness, that it seemed almost -impossible for the design to fail. Henry -gave a feigned compliance to the old -Count’s proposals, and was rewarded -with his liberty. The first use, which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>he made of it, was to hasten to Richard -of Ulmenhorst, to whom Elizabeth had -entrusted the government of her domains -during her seclusion in the Convent. -To him did young Montfort -discover the conspiracy against the -Heiress of Torrenburg, and they agreed -upon measures for defeating it. The -noble Richard had loved Elizabeth in -the earliest spring of his life, and had no -reason to despair, till the blooming -Henry appeared and won the prize, -almost before he himself desired it. -Richard now first knew the real character -of his so long-hated rival: and -to know it, and admire it, were but the -same. The conspiracy was defeated; -the new friends separated; and Henry -hastened to the Lake of Thun.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Ida!” he exclaimed, “I am thine, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>and for ever! I have broken through -every obstacle, which divided us; I have -severed every chain, which detained me -from your arms. I renounce the name -of Montfort, which has inflicted upon -me nothing but misfortune: never shall -the man, who so unjustly lords it over -my possessions, hear of his persecuted -nephew more. You, Ida, must renounce -the title of Werdenberg, which has been -the cause to you of so much sorrow, -and resume that beloved name, which -you bore, when we first met. This -cottage, this garden, and this little flock -are enough to content all the wishes of -two loving hearts; and Erwin Melthal -and Rosanna Tell will pass together such -days, as even, the happiest might look -upon with envy.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Ida felt in her bosom a painful conflict -<span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>between love and duty. She had -renounced wealth and splendour for -herself without a pang; but ought she -to renounce them for Henry? Ought -she to suffer him to quit for her a station, -on which he was calculated to -confer such lustre? Such were her -doubts; yet undoubtedly love would at -length have triumphed, had not a report -reached her, that Elizabeth’s situation -was become more difficult than ever. -Her vassals had given up in despair all -hopes of persuading the Sisters to contest -the Count of Torrenburg’s will. -They found, that Elizabeth was destined -to remain their sovereign: yet they -protested (with such violence as gave -reason to apprehend the most dangerous -consequences from a refusal) that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>on one condition only would they return -peaceably to their obedience. That condition -was, that if Elizabeth was to be -still their liege-lady, Henry of Montfort -should become their liege-lord: and they -swore, that she never should enter the -Castle of Torrenburg except as Henry’s -wife, unless she chose to see her way -strewn with bleeding corses.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Letters from Richard of Ulmenhorst -confirmed this report; and the generous -Ida’s resolution was taken without a -moment’s delay.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Go, my beloved!” she exclaimed -and embraced him for the last time. -“You were not born to waste your -days in the obscurity of these shades. -Power and splendour form the proper -sphere for you to move in, and those it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>is not in the poor Ida’s power to bestow! -Go then, Henry; protect Elizabeth; -content her people; make your wife, -make your vassals, make <i>yourself</i> happy; -your praises will reach me even in this -secluded valley.... Then <i>I</i> shall -be happy too!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>Henry obeyed her: to refuse was in -truth impossible! With every hour -and from every quarter fresh entreaties -arrived, all assuring him, that if he -meant to rescue the Countess of Torrenburg -from the fury of her rebellious -subjects, not a moment must be lost.—He -determined to sacrifice every other -consideration, to that of Elizabeth’s -welfare: he is arrived at Zurich: he -has renounced his claims to Ida’s affections; -Ida has renounced her rights to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>her uncle’s inheritance; and to-morrow -will see Henry of Montfort kneeling at -the feet of Elizabeth, and will hear him -offer her his hand for the second time.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span><span class='c008'>ELIZABETH OF TORRENBURG.</span></div> - <div class='c006'>═════════════════════</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c015'><i>PART THE EIGHTH.</i></h2> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>═════════════════════</div> - </div> -</div> - -<h3 class='c018'><i>Elizabeth, Countess of Torrenburg, to Conrad, Abbot of Cloister-Curwald.</i></h3> - -<p class='c019'>Conrad! Conrad! how was it possible -for me to mistake for a moment -the characters of <i>your</i> pen, for those of -any other? Of that pen, which like its -master’s persuasive tongue, knows how -<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>to blend truth, raillery, and praise together -so artfully, that the heart feels itself -irresistibly subdued, irresistibly compelled -to follow, whither-soever it is -your pleasure to conduct it!</p> - -<p class='c017'>I was aware of your power: it was -therefore that I fled from your presence, -that I shunned your conversation, that I -declined your correspondence. I knew -well, that your eloquence could give a -fair appearance even to the worst cause; -and at that time Ida’s cause was believed -by me to be one of the worst, -otherwise I would not have fled from -its discussion.</p> - -<p class='c017'>But now how are my sentiments -changed! Helen, sainted Helen! now -then the time is arrived for my imitating -thy glorious example: Ida is a second -<span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>Amalberga: Elizabeth shall be a second -Helen!</p> - -<p class='c017'>No: Helen’s curse shall not fall upon -<i>my</i> head: I will not hate those, whom -<i>she</i> has blest; I will not rob her beloved -ones of their inheritance. Look down -on me, fair saint! Behold; I sacrifice -to Ida that, which is most precious to -me, the affection of my heart, the happiness -of my life, the hand of Henry: -and can you doubt, whether I will restore -to her that which I prize so little, a few -handfuls of sordid earth?</p> - -<p class='c017'>Conrad, my whole soul is in a storm! -I scarcely know, what I say ... what -I write ... what I think ... in -the present moment, I can only feel!—Yet -ere I close my letter, learn thus -much. Constantia is with me; yesterday -<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>I clasped her to my heart. Alas! -for the gentle, innocent, suffering girl! -Never did my bosom harbour against -<i>her</i> one spark of ill-will: her intercourse -would have been like balsam to the -wounds of my heart, even while I hated -Ida as the inflictor of those wounds. -It was cruel in you, my good Abbot, to -let me inhabit the same dwelling with -her for so long, and yet keep me in -ignorance, that such a blessing was so -near me.</p> - -<p class='c017'>In truth, you have not dealt well with -me throughout; neither yourself, Conrad, -nor your confidante the Abbess of -Zurich. The most secret recesses of -my soul were known to you, while I -believed them to be closed against all -the world; you knew much, of which I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>would have purchased the knowledge -with my whole wealth, and which you -concealed from me far too long. I -thought, that I acted without being -observed: and you were busied in -watching and numbering every step -which I took. I cannot feel quite satisfied -with your proceedings towards me; -my heart involuntarily breaks out into -reproaches and complaints. Yet neither -complaints nor reproaches can now -avail. The die is cast; I cannot avoid -following the path, which is pointed out -by duty—<i>cannot</i>, did I say?—No; let -me not wrong my feelings: I <i>would</i> -not, if I <i>could</i>!</p> - -<p class='c017'>Oh! that I could paint to you in -colours sufficiently vivid the scenes, -which followed my perusal of your manuscript!—the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>Abbess is ill.... I fear -ill unto death!—I flew to her sick bed, -and with the enthusiasm of my sensations -forced her back from contemplating -the fields of blessedness, to -which she is already so near, that she -needs but to close her eyes in order to -behold the reflection of their glories! -She smiled at what I said to her, and which -must have appeared to her so trifling, so -unworthy of a thought, when compared -with those images by which her mind -had just been occupied.—Her words -inscribed themselves upon my heart in -characters of flame: you will soon be -informed of their effects.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Constantia was summoned—the Abbess -joined our hands; we sank upon -each other’s bosom. No explanation -<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>was necessary; no one spoke a word; -we understood <i>her</i> ... we understood -ourselves.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Now then,” said the invalid in -a soft faltering voice, which seemed a -middle tone between a mortal’s and a -spirit’s: “now then nothing is wanting -... but the presence of Ida!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“Of Ida,” I repeated, “and of -her Henry!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>And Henry came; came the next morning, as -you had assured me that he would, -and for that purpose which you mentioned. -He has vindicated my cause like an -hero, and has fully established my authority -and my rights: he has knelt at my -feet; he has offered me his hand. He has -named love as the reward of his services, -and has obtained the boon: how could -<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>I refuse the reward of love to the most -pure, the most tender, the most unfortunate -of lovers?</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span> - <h3 class='c018'><i>Constantia, Countess of Werdenberg, to Abbot Conrad.</i></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c019'>Elizabeth’s letter must already -have apprized you, my kind protector, -of the favourable change, which has -taken place in the situation of your -wards. Count Henry has been here, -and is again departed. He came by -Ida’s command to offer his hand to -Elizabeth: he is returned at Elizabeth’s -desire to salute her rival as joint-heiress -with myself of the rich domains of -Torrenburg.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“I do no more than my duty,” -said Elizabeth, when Henry endeavoured -<span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>to express his gratitude. “Your heart -belongs to Ida, and never <i>ought</i> to be -another’s, therefore never <i>can</i> be mine. -As to Count Frederick’s inheritance, -demand of this venerable man, whose -claim to it is the most just; that of -Elizabeth, or of the Damsels of Werdenberg.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>As she spoke, the door opened, and a -silver-haired stranger entered the apartment. -It was the Sage of Zurich, the -well-known Albert Reding, to whom -Elizabeth had referred her disputed -claims, previous to your unveiling the -truth of our history, and removing her -prejudices against us. Yes, Conrad, -yes! even had she still continued to -abhor us, so sure as I have life, Elizabeth -would still have acted by us with -justice!</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>The venerable Albert confirmed Elizabeth’s -declaration; he even consented -to accompany the enraptured Montfort -to Ida’s valley, and make known to her -this sudden change in her situation. -They would fain have persuaded me to -join their party: but I could not endure -the thoughts of quitting my generous -friend, at a moment, when she so greatly -needs support after this difficult self-victory, -and under the deep affliction -which she feels at the approaching dissolution -of our worthy Abbess.—Farewell, -dear father, and believe, that -the memory of your kindness shall live -in my heart for ever!</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_316'>316</span> - <h3 class='c018'><i>Abbot Conrad to Sigisbert, Bishop of Coira.</i></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c019'>Count Henry of Montfort and his -bride are established in the Castle of -Torrenburg. Their arrival threw the -populace into an ecstasy of joy, and all -inclination to uproar and revolt seems -to be completely annihilated. Neither -is Elizabeth any longer an object of -aversion to her former subjects; you -are already informed of the laudable -manner, in which she past the -month immediately succeeding the death -of the Abbess of Zurich, and which she -entirely dedicated to providing for the -future benefit of those, over whom she -was so soon to renounce all jurisdiction, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span>and who (while under her command) -had been so little sensible of the value -of such a mistress.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“The few minutes,” said she, -when she addrest them for the last -time; “the few minutes, during which -I can still consider you as my subjects, -shall be employed in convincing you, -that you mistook my character; and -that your welfare neither is now, nor -ever was, indifferent to the heart of -Elizabeth. I am preparing to resign -my authority into the hands of the -Damsels of Werdenberg; but that -authority shall be the only one worth -having, authority over a <i>free people</i>.”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>What she promised, she has performed -most amply. Everything in -these regions breathes freedom and -happiness; she has established the privileges -<span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>of this people on grounds so firm, -that even were the antient Tyrants of -Carlsheim and Sargans to resume their -abused authority, they would be compelled -to leave their subjects in possession -of their unviolated freedom.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Henry and Ida would fain have exprest -to her their gratitude in person; -but she has declined receiving them for -the present, under colour of too great -affliction for the late loss of her friend, -the Abbess. How say you, my Lord -Bishop?—I fear, the heart of our Elizabeth -is by no means healed, since she -cannot prevail on herself to endure the -sight of her rival’s happiness, even -although that happiness is a work of -her own creation.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Well! well!—time I hope, will do -much; and (unless I flatter myself with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_319'>319</span>believing too ardently what I wish) the -attentions of Richard of Ulmenhorst -will do more. This excellent young -man is full of hope, that he may yet -be able to establish his former claims on -the heart of Elizabeth; Ida and Henry -encourage him in his sanguine expectations; -and no efforts of mine, that can -advance his wishes, shall be wanting, -you may be sure. However, nothing -can be attempted, till St. Helena’s Festival -arrives; on that day Elizabeth has -promised to receive all her friends -(Henry and Ida not excepted) and every -one looks forward with the utmost -impatience to this appointed day.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Of course Constantia did not fail to -be present at the wedding of her beloved -sister. Methinks, her passion for the -Cloister is sensibly diminished since her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_320'>320</span>re-establishment in her legitimate claims. -With my whole heart shall I say—“Amen!”—to -her resolution to lay -aside the veil: she is so well calculated -to form the blessing of an earthly -bridegroom, that it would be a sin to -bury her within the walls of a Convent. -She already numbers many powerful -noblemen in the list of her admirers; -but no one hangs upon her smiles with -more perfect adoration, than Count -Oswald, Elizabeth’s brother. He has -confided his passion to me, and I am -best able to judge the nature of his -sentiments. No contracted views of -interest (as many unjustly suppose, and -as perhaps Constantia herself suspects) -induce him to kneel at the feet of the -rich Heiress of Sargans: no one can -imagine such a motive, who is acquainted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_321'>321</span>with the real character of the -proud but noble Oswald, the lustre of -which is bright and glorious as the -light of the sun; though like that luminary -it is now and then obscured by a -few dark spots, moveable and insignificant. -No; he seeks the hand of -Constantia from no other cause than -the consciousness of her perfections; -except that he repents of his former -injustice towards the Sisters, and is -anxious to express his present respect -in the most marked and striking -manner.</p> - -<p class='c017'>I know not, what hopes he is authorized -to nourish. The quiet retired -Constantia gives encouragement to none -of her admirers, and observes an obstinate -silence respecting her intentions -even to me: however, Count Oswald -<span class='pageno' id='Page_322'>322</span>possesses a powerful interest in her -opinion from his being the brother of -Elizabeth.—I expect that the festival of -St. Helena will decide much.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_323'>323</span> - <h3 class='c018'><i>Conclusion—written by Abbot Conrad.</i></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c019'>That the readers of the fore-going -manuscripts may not be left with their -curiosity entirely ungratified, I will -endeavour to fill up the chasm, which -otherwise would appear in the Memoirs -of Elizabeth. Let me obtain their -pardon, if I relate as briefly as possible -the circumstances of a scene, which -produced upon my heart an impression -very painful at the time, and never to -be obliterated.</p> - -<p class='c017'>St. Helena’s festival arrived. All -those, whom Elizabeth had invited, -failed not to attend at the appointed -place and hour; among them were the -Heiresses of Torrenburg, Count Henry -<span class='pageno' id='Page_324'>324</span>of Montfort, Count Oswald of March -(Elizabeth’s brother) Richard of Ulmenhorst, -the Bishop of Coira, and myself.</p> - -<p class='c017'>It is the pious and laudable custom -of our days (a custom, which I hope -will be preserved even to the latest -posterity) that all our most distinguished -festivities should commence by -offering an homage of adoration to -the Supreme: it was therefore natural, -that immediately on our arrival we -should be conducted to the church -belonging to the Convent of Zurich. -Yet we could not help feeling some -surprize, that Elizabeth as our hostess -did not welcome us at the church-door, -and place herself at the head of our -procession, while it moved through the -cloisters towards the chapel; that being -<span class='pageno' id='Page_325'>325</span>the established custom on such occasions. -However, we had scarcely time -to make any reflections, before we found -ourselves within the chapel.</p> - -<p class='c017'>It was most gorgeously adorned, as if -set out for some great solemnity. The -walls were decorated with wreaths of -flowers; the reliques were exposed, the -pictures were uncovered: the whole -wealth of the Convent was displayed, -and blazed on every side; innumerable -tapers in chandeliers of gold, intermingled -with silver lamps, dispelled the -gloom of the long aisles; and clouds -of incense rolled along the fretted roof, -which echoed back the melodious -sounds of lutes and voices, as they -swelled in full chorus from the adjoining -choir. At that moment our -knowledge of church-customs naturally -<span class='pageno' id='Page_326'>326</span>made the Bishop and myself conceive -a suspicion of the purpose, for which -we had been conducted thither: perhaps -too, the same thought suggested -itself to Constantia, for on a sudden her -tears began to flow. The situation of -Richard of Ulmenhorst was most distressing: -he ceased not to enquire, why -Elizabeth did not appear; and it was -with difficulty, that Montfort, Ida, and -Count Oswald (who preserved their -presence of mind better than the rest) -could persuade him to observe that -silence, which was necessary in so holy -a place.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Unhappy Richard! for many weeks -past had his friends conspired to buoy -him up with hopes, which this single -moment was destined to destroy for -ever: for now the curtain, which concealed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_327'>327</span>from us the chapel’s sanctuary, -was withdrawn, and all our worst -fears were confirmed. Elizabeth, adorned -with all the pomp and splendour of -wealth, and still more with all the -charms, which nature had bestowed -upon her superior to her whole sex, -knelt before the altar, and offered up -at the footstool of the Almighty’s -throne the greatest sacrifice, which a -mortal can ever make; the sacrifice of -youth, love, beauty, liberty, and life!</p> - -<p class='c017'>What impression this unexpected, -this unwished for scene made upon the -assembly at large, it is neither in <i>my</i> -power to describe, nor (I believe) in -the power of any one of those, who -were personally interested about Elizabeth. -Each individual felt so much -upon his own account, that he was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_328'>328</span>rendered incapable of attending to the -sensations produced upon others. It -was not till the awful ceremony of pronouncing -the great and total renunciation -was on the point of taking place, -that I turned my eyes upon the countenance -of the unhappy Richard: it was -pale as that of a corse; and yet with -every moment it seemed to grow still -paler, till his eyes closed, and he sank -into my arms without sentiment.</p> - -<p class='c017'>—“My soul,” said Elizabeth in a -firm voice, “I bequeath to him, who -gave it! my body I bequeath to the -grave; my wealth to the church; the -domains of Torrenburg to its legitimate -possessors; the recollection of Henry -of Montfort to his beloved Ida; Richard -of Ulmenhorst.... Richard, my friend -of youth, and the truest of all lovers.... -<span class='pageno' id='Page_329'>329</span>Richard, whom I ought never to -have quitted for the sake of any -Montfort.... Ah! to what consoling -Angel shall I consign the noble Richard, -that she may heal the wounds inflicted -by my caprice on his honest suffering -heart?—Constantia! friend of my -bosom, be thou that Angel! thou art -far more worthy of his love than the -inconstant Elizabeth, who in resigning -<i>him</i>, resigns every prospect of earthly -happiness; who in sacrificing <i>him</i>, offers -up to Heaven the greatest sacrifice, of -which her nature is capable.—Be he -thine, dear injured Constantia; accept -from me his hand, his heart! my injustice -to Ida I have repaired by the -resignation of Henry; but I still -owed thee a mighty sacrifice, to efface -the memory of many a bitter hour -<span class='pageno' id='Page_330'>330</span>occasioned by my obstinacy, my persecution, -my self-will.—Now then I have -done with the world for ever!—Beloved-ones! -I bless you!—Pray for -me, and farewell!”—</p> - -<p class='c017'>The Bishop (though greatly affected -by this whole unexpected scene) thought -it right to wait till the conclusion of -the ceremony: But anxiety for Richard, -whose indisposition had occasioned the -bye-standers to remove him into the -open air, furnished me with an excuse -for leaving the chapel, which I seized -with eagerness. To say the truth, I -was far from satisfied with Elizabeth’s -determination. I shall no doubt be -severely censured by my more devout -successors; yet I needs must confess, -that in spite of my own vows (which I -pronounced with the most heart-felt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_331'>331</span>joy, and never have felt the slightest -wish to retract) yet still I say, in spite of -my own vows, I never have seen without -a pang society deprived of a valuable -member, and those talents buried within -the solitude of the Cloister, which might -have made its owner a blessing to the -world at large.</p> - -<p class='c017'>When the first shock was past, -Richard recovered his resolution, and -endeavoured to conceal the agony of -his feelings under the veil of seriousness -and silence. A splendid entertainment -was spread before us, at which none of -the holy Sisters appeared; consequently, -we were at liberty to communicate our -sentiments on what had just past without -restraint. ’Twas the most melancholy -feast, at which I ever assisted; a -feast, which I shall never forget, as long -<span class='pageno' id='Page_332'>332</span>as I possess existence; it seemed to me -Elizabeth’s funeral-feast! we soon rose -from the table, on which the viands -remained untouched, and we prepared -for our departure; for we thought -it vain to expect admission to the newly-profest -Nun, and indeed in our present -temper of mind that admission was -scarcely to be wished—the Bishop, however, -delivered it as his opinion, that -propriety required us at least to give -Elizabeth the option of seeing us. Accordingly, -a message informed her of -our approaching departure; her answer -was, that she must decline all visits, -except those of Constantia and of -Richard of Ulmenhorst.</p> - -<p class='c017'>They obeyed her orders. Elizabeth -received them with joy and tenderness. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_333'>333</span>She doubted not the success of her -proposal, and addrest Constantia as the -heiress of Richard’s heart: but she was -speedily undeceived. Richard declared, -in terms so express as left no doubt of -his decision, that since Elizabeth was -lost to the world, no refuge was left -for him but the Cloister; while on -the other hand, Constantia confest, that -her heart was no longer in her own -power. After a long and unavailing -discussion, Elizabeth dismist them, -whether satisfied or displeased by the -firmness of her two dearest friends, -it may be difficult to say: but unless -I am totally ignorant of the female -mind, she could not help being flattered -by Richard’s refusal to admit any rival -to her in his heart, but God; and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_334'>334</span>probably she was secretly not much -incensed against Constantia for having -bestowed her affections else-where.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Count Oswald, who had been by no -means pleased by his sister’s endeavours -to unite Richard and Constantia, now -felt his hopes revive: he flattered himself, -that <i>he</i> was the unknown object -of Constantia’s choice; but in this -belief he was mistaken. There was a -young knight, who had offered her his -heart and hand at a time, when she -had nothing but a heart and hand to offer -in return. Conradin, an ill-portioned -brother of the Landgrave of Thuringia, -would have loved her, had she been no -other than Mary Tell; Conradin had -been faithful to Constantia of Werdenberg -under all the scorn and obloquy, -under which she at one time laboured; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_335'>335</span>and Conradin was now the man, for -whom the wealthy Heiress of Sargans -rejected every other. <i>He</i> deserved the -inestimable treasure of a wife like -Constantia; and <i>she</i> was well worthy -to be the mistress of a heart, whose -tenderness and generosity could only be -excelled by her own.</p> - -<p class='c017'>It was long, before Elizabeth acquired -sufficient firmness to receive -the personal thanks of Ida and Henry -for that felicity, of which she was herself -the authoress; but on the day -when she was consecrated as Domina -of Zurich, this long-delayed interview -took place. The impression, which it -made upon her mind, will be best explained -by the following letter.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_336'>336</span> - <h3 class='c018'><i>Elizabeth to Constantia.</i></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c019'>At length then this dreaded interview is -over: I have seen Ida and her happy -husband.—Wrong me not, Constantia, -by suspecting, that resentment or pique -has made me delay this meeting for -so long; oh! no! it was the consciousness -of my own weak heart!—Even -Helen of Homburg could not at -once resolve to witness the happiness -of Eginhart and Amalberga; and alas! -I am no faultless Saint like Helen!—the -Cloister is the palace of enthusiasm, -is the native land of visions; its inhabitants -are only happy in proportion, -as those visions are sweet and soothing. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_337'>337</span>I had formed for myself a little circle -of ideal companions, whom at my pleasure -I could summon to dispel my -solitude. My venerable friend, by the -side of whose death-bed I formed the -resolution of dedicating my life to the -service of Heaven, was among the -dearest of those apparitions. The hand -of mortality had torn her from me; -Enthusiasm restored her to my arms. -I saw her, as if she had been still -alive.... I spoke to her, and laid open -the most secret folds of my heart.... -I almost fancied, that at times I heard -her reply in words of comfort.... -Alas! the fatal sight of Ida and her -Henry has dispelled all these visions, -which were to me the source of so much -happiness! it seemed like a flash of -lightning, which penetrates through our -<span class='pageno' id='Page_338'>338</span>closed eye-lids, and wakes us suddenly -from some delightful dream.—Now -nothing flits before me in my solitude, -but those scenes of my melancholy life, -in which Ida and Montfort bore so -great a share.—Leave me, oh! leave -me, ye cruel thoughts, which force me -back to a world of sorrow; and thou, -mild-spirit of my sainted friend, return, -and by thy presence aid me to prepare -for that state of bliss, which <i>you</i> already -enjoy, and to which I feel that <i>I</i> am -hastening.</p> - -<p class='c017'>The will of Heaven be done; but the -moment of dissolution will be sweet -and welcome!</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c013'> - <div>THE END.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c023' /> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>Printed by D. N. SHURY, Berwick-street, Soho.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> -<p class='c017'> </p> -<div class='tnbox'> - - <ul class='ul_1 c006'> - <li>Transcriber’s Notes: - <ul class='ul_2'> - <li>Errata listed in this volume have been applied to all volumes. - </li> - <li>Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. - </li> - <li>Typographical errors were silently corrected. - </li> - <li>Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a predominant - form was found in this book. - </li> - </ul> - </li> - </ul> - -</div> -<p class='c017'> </p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c024'>ERRATA.</h2> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>VOL. I.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c025'>Page 6, line 2—<i>for</i> “to which,” <i>read</i> “for which.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 172, line 19—<i>for</i> “niputations,” <i>read</i> “imputations.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 272, line 17—<i>for</i> “were,” <i>read</i> “was.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 273, line 3—<i>for</i> “confidant,” <i>read</i> “confident.”</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>VOL. II.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c025'>Page 29, line 11—<i>for</i> “compelled to,” <i>read</i> -“compelled me to.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 153, line 11—<i>for</i> “which,” <i>read</i> “as.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 158, line 11—<i>omit</i> “or.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 219, line 4—<i>for</i> “that your sex are the most -fortunate,” <i>read</i> “that you are the -most fortunate of your sex.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 249, line 18—<i>for</i> “derison,” <i>read</i> “derision.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 281, line 3—<i>for</i> “woful,” <i>read</i> “awful.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 337, line 11—<i>for</i> “hasten a person,” <i>read</i> -“hasten in person.”</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_339'>339</span>VOL. III.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c026'>Page 29, line 12—<i>for</i> “rung,” <i>read</i> “wrung.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 108, line 14—<i>for</i> “has,” <i>read</i> “had.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 295, line last—<i>for</i> “probibity,” <i>read</i> “probity.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 308, line 12—<i>for</i> “uperiority,” <i>read</i> “superiority.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 349, line 6—<i>for</i> “Zender,” <i>read</i> “Bender.”</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>VOL. IV.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c025'>Page 31, line 1—<i>for</i> “the would,” <i>read</i> “she -would.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 52, line 2—<i>efface the</i> Comma <i>after</i> “Rosanna.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 140, line 12—<i>instead of a</i> semicolon <i>put a</i> -comma.</p> -<p class='c025'>— 159, line 2—<i>for</i> “except,” <i>read</i> “than.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 283, line 17—<i>for</i> “confe,” <i>read</i> “confer.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 309, line 12—<i>for</i> “dye,” <i>read</i> “die.”</p> -<p class='c025'>— 311, line 14—<i>after</i> “mentioned,” <i>put</i> a full -stop.</p> -<hr class='c027' /> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FEUDAL TYRANTS, VOLUME 4 (OF 4) ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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