CHAPTER XXIII.
Half Leyden had followed the brave captain's coffin, and among the othersoldiers, who rendered the last honors to the departed, was Georg vonDornburg. After the funeral, the musician Wilhelm led the son of thekind comrade, whom so many mourned, to his house. Van der Werff foundmany things to be done after the burial, but reserved the noon hour; forhe expected the German to dine.
The burgomaster, as usual, sat at the head of the table; the Junkerhad taken his place between him and Maria, opposite to Barbara and thechildren.
The widow never wearied of gazing at the young man's fresh, bright face,for although her son could not compare with him in beauty, there wasan honest expression in the Junker's eyes, which reminded her of herWilhelm.
Many a question and answer had already been exchanged between thoseassembled round the board, many a pleasant memory recalled, when Peter,after the dishes had been removed and a new jug with better wine placedon the table, filled the young nobleman's glass again, and raised hisown.
"Let us drink this bumper," he cried, gazing at Georg with sincerepleasure in his eyes, "let us drink to the victory of the good cause,for which you too voluntarily draw your sword. Thanks for the vigorouspledge. Drinking is also an art, and the Germans are masters of it."
"We learn it in various places, and not worst at the University ofJena."
"All honor to the doctors and professors, who bring their pupils up tothe standard of my dead brother-in-law, and judging from this sampledrink, you also."
"Leonhard was my teacher in the 'ars bibendi.' How long ago it is!"
"Youth is not usually content," replied Peter, "but when the pointin question concerns years, readily calls 'much,' what seems to olderpeople 'little.' True, many experiences may have been crowded into thelast few years of your life. I can still spare an hour, and as we areall sitting so cosily together here, you can tell us, unless you wish tokeep silence on the subject, how you chanced to leave your distant homefor Holland, and your German and Latin books to enlist under the Englishstandard."
"Yes," added Maria, without any trace of embarrassment. "You still oweme the story. Give thanks, children, and then go."
Adrian gazed beseechingly first at his mother and then at his father,and as neither forbade him to stay, moved his chair close to his sister,and both leaned their heads together and listened with wide open eyes,while the Junker first quietly, then with increasing vivacity, relatedthe following story:
"You know that I am a native of Thuringia, a mountainous country in theheart of Germany. Our castle is situated in a pleasant valley, throughwhich a clear river flows in countless windings. Wooded mountains, notso high as the giants in Switzerland, yet by no means contemptible,border the narrow boundaries of the valley. At their feet the fieldsand meadows, at a greater height rise pine forests, which, like thehuntsman, wear green robes at all seasons of the year. In winter, itis true, the snow cover them with a glimmering white sheet. When springcomes, the pines put forth new shoots, as fresh and full of sap as thebudding foliage of your oaks and beeches, and in the meadows by theriver it begins to snow in the warm breezes, for then one fruit-treeblooms beside another, and when the wind rises, the delicate whitepetals flutter through the air and fall among the bright blossoms in thegrass, and on the clear surface of the river. There are also numerousbarren cliffs on the higher portions of the mountains, and where theytowered in the most rugged, inaccessible ridges, our ancestors builttheir fastnesses, to secure themselves from the attacks of theirenemies. Our castle stands on a mountain-ridge in the midst of thevalley of the Saale. There I was born, there I sported through the yearsof my boyhood, learned to read and guide the pen. There was plenty ofhunting in the forests, we had spirited horses in the stable, and, wildlad that I was, I rarely went voluntarily into the school-room, thegrey-haired teacher, Lorenz, had to catch me, if he wanted to getpossession of me. My sisters and Hans, our youngest child, the boy wasonly three years younger than I, kept quiet--I had an older brother too,yet did not have him. When his beard was first beginning to grow, he wasgiven by our gracious Duke to Chevalier von Brand as his esquire, andsent to Spain, to buy Andalusian horses. John Frederick's father hadlearned their value in Madrid after the battle of Muhlburg. Louis wasa merry fellow when he went away, and knew how to tame the wildeststallion. It was hard for our parents to believe him dead, but yearselapsed, and as neither he nor Chevalier von Brand appeared, we wereobliged to give him up for lost. My mother alone could not do this, andconstantly expected his return. My father called me the future heirand lord of the castle. When I had passed beyond boyhood and understoodCicero tolerably well, I was sent to the University of Jena to studylaw, as my uncle, the chancellor, wished me to become a counsellor ofstate.
"Oh Jena, beloved Jena! There are blissful days in May and June, whenonly light clouds float in the sky, and all the leaves and flowersare so fresh and green, that one would think--they probably think sothemselves--that they could never fade and wither; such days in humanexistence are the period of joyous German student life. You can believeit. Leonhard has told you enough of Jena. He understood how to unitework and pleasure; I, on the contrary, learned little on the woodenbenches, for I rarely occupied them, and the dust of books certainlydidn't spoil my lungs. But I read Ariosto again and again, devotedmyself to singing, and when a storm of feeling seethed within my breast,composed many songs for my own pleasure. We learned to wield the swordtoo in Jena, and I would gladly have crossed blades with the sturdyfencing-master Allertssohn, of whom you have just told me. Leonhard wasolder than I, and when he graduated with honor, I was still very weakin the pandects. But we were always one in heart and soul, so I wentto Holland with him to attend his wedding. Ah, those were days! Thetheologians in Jena have actively disputed about the part of the earth,in which the little garden of Paradise should be sought. I consideredthem all fools, and thought: 'There is only one Eden, and that lies inHolland, and the fairest roses the dew waked on the first sunny morning,bloom in Delft!'"
At these words Georg shook back his waving locks and hesitated in greatembarrassment, but as no one interrupted him and he saw Barbara's eagerface and the children's glowing cheeks, quietly continued:
"So I came home, and was to learn for the first time, that in life alsobeautiful sunny days often end with storms. I found my father ill, anda few days after my return he closed his eyes in death. I had never seenany human being die, and the first, the very first, was he, my father."
Georg paused, and deeply moved, passed his hand over his eyes.
"Your father!" cried Barbara, in a tone of cordial sympathy, breakingthe silence. "If we can judge the tree by the apple, he was surely asplendid man."
The Junker again raised his head, exclaiming with sparkling eyes:
"Unite every good and noble quality, and embody them in the form of atall, handsome man, then you will have the image of my father;--and Imight tell you of my mother--"
"Is she still alive?" asked Peter.
"God grant it!" exclaimed the young man. "I have heard nothing from myfamily for two months. That is hard. Pleasures smile along every path,and I like my profession of soldier, but it often grieves me sorely tohear so little from home. Oh! if one were only a bird, a sunbeam, or ashooting-star, one might, if only for the twinkling of an eye, learnhow matters go at home and fill the soul with fresh gratitude, or, if itmust be--but I will not think of that. In the valley of the Saale, thetrees are blossoming and a thousand flowers deck all the meadows, justas they do here, and did there two years ago, when I left home for thesecond time.
"After my father's death I was the heir, but neither hunting nor ridingto court, neither singing nor the clinking of beakers could please me.I went about like a sleep-walker, and it seemed as if I had no right tolive without my father. Then--it is now just two years ago--a messengerbrought from Weimar a letter which had come from Italy with severalothers, addressed to our most gracious sovereign; it contained the newsthat our lost brother was still alive, lyin
g sick and wretched in thehospital at Bergamo. A kind nun had written for him, and we now learnedthat on the journey from Valencia to Livorno Louis had been captured bycorsairs and dragged to Tunis. How much suffering he endured there, withwhat danger he at last succeeded in obtaining his liberty, you shalllearn later. He escaped to Italy on a Genoese galley. His feet carriedhim as far as Bergamo, but he could go no farther, and now lay ill,perhaps dying, among sympathizing strangers. I set out at once and didnot spare horseflesh on the way to Bergamo, but though there were manystrange and beautiful things to be seen on my way, they afforded melittle pleasure, the thought of Louis, so dangerously ill, saddened myjoyous spirits. Every running brook urged me to hasten, and the loftymountains seemed like jealous barriers. When once beyond St. GotthardI felt less anxious, and as I rode down from Bellinzona to Lake Lugano,and the sparkling surface of the water beyond the city smiled at me likea blue eye, forgot my grief for a time, waved my hat, and sung a song.In Bergamo I found my brother, alive, but enfeebled in mind and body,weak, and without any desire to take up the burden of life again. Hehad been in good hands, and after a few weeks we were able to travelhomeward--this time I went through beautiful Tyrol. Louis's strengthdaily increased, but the wings of his soul had been paralyzed bysuffering. Alas, for long years he had dug and carried heavy loads, withchains on his feet, beneath a broiling sun. Chevalier von Brand couldnot long endure this hard fate, but Louis, while in Tunis, forgot bothhow to laugh and weep, and which of the two can be most easily spared?
"Even when he saw my mother again, he could not shed a tear, yet hiswhole body--and surely his heart also--trembled with emotion. Now helives quietly at the castle. In the prime of manhood he is an old man,but he is beginning to accommodate himself to life, only he can't bearthe sight of a strange face. I had a hard battle with him, for as theeldest son, the castle and estate, according to the law, belong to him,but he wanted to resign his rights and put me in his place. Even whenhe had brought my mother over to his side, and my uncle and brothers andsisters tried to persuade me to yield to his wish, I remained resolute.I would not touch what did not belong to me, and our youngest boy,Wolfgang, has grown up, and can fill my place wherever it is necessary.When the entreaties and persuasions became too strong for me, I saddledmy horse and went away again. It was hard for my mother to let me go,but I had tasted the delight of travelling, and rode off as if to awedding. If I must be perfectly frank, I'll confess that I resignedcastle and estates like a troublesome restraint. Free as the wind andclouds, I followed the same road over which I had ridden with Leonhard,for in your country a war after my own heart was going on, and my futurefortune was to be based upon my sword. In Cologne I enlisted under thebanner of Louis of Nassau, and fought with him at Mook Heath till everyone retreated. My horse had fallen, my doublet was torn, there waslittle left save good spirits and the hope of better days. These weresoon found, for Captain Gensfort asked me to join the English troops. Ibecame his ensign, and at Alfen held out beside him till the last grainof powder was exhausted. What happened there, you know."
"And Captain Van der Laen told us," said Peter, "that he owes his lifeto you. You fought like a lion."
"It was wild work enough at the fortifications, yet neither I nor myhorse had a hair ruffled, and this time I even saved my knapsack anda full purse. Fate, like mothers, loves troublesome children best, andtherefore led me to you and your family, Herr Burgomaster."
"And I beg you to consider yourself one of them," replied Peter. "Wehave two pleasant rooms looking out upon the court-yard; they shall beput in order for you, if you would like to occupy them."
"With pleasure," replied the Junker, and Peter, offering him his hand,said:
"The duties of my office call me away, but you can tell the ladies whatyou need, and when you mean to move in. The sooner, the better we shallbe pleased. Shall we not, Maria?"
"You will be welcome, Junker Georg. Now I must look after the invalid weare nursing here. Barbara will ascertain your wishes."
The young wife took her husband's hand and left the room with him.
The widow was left alone with the young nobleman and tried to learneverything he desired. Then she followed her sister-in-law, and findingher in Henrica's room, clapped her hands, exclaiming:
"That is a man! Fraulein, I assure you that, though I'm an old woman, Inever met so fine a young fellow in all my life. So much heart, and sohandsome too! 'To whom fortune gives once, it gives by bushels, and untohim that hath, shall be given!' Those are precious words!"