The Heart of Princess Osra.
CHAPTER I.
The Happiness of Stephen the Smith.
"Stephen! Stephen! Stephen!"
The impatient cry was heard through all the narrow gloomy street, wherethe old richly-carved house-fronts bowed to meet one another and leftfor the eye's comfort only a bare glimpse of blue. It was, men said, theoldest street in Strelsau, even as the sign of the "Silver Ship" was theoldest sign known to exist in the city. For when Aaron Lazarus the Jewcame there, seventy years before, he had been the tenth man in unbrokenline that took up the business; and now Stephen Nados, his apprenticeand successor, was the eleventh. Old Lazarus had made a great businessof it, and had spent his savings in buying up the better part of thestreet; but since Jews then might hold no property in Strelsau, he hadtaken all the deeds in the name of Stephen Nados; and when he came todie, being unable to carry his houses or his money with him, having nokindred, and caring not a straw for any man or woman alive save Stephen,he bade Stephen let the deeds be, and, with a last curse against theChristians (of whom Stephen was one, and a devout one), he kissed theyoung man, and turned his face to the wall and died. Therefore Stephenwas a rich man, and had no need to carry on the business, though itnever entered his mind to do anything else; for half the people whoraised their heads at the sound of the cry were Stephen's tenants, andpaid him rent when he asked for it; a thing he did when he chanced toremember, and could tear himself away from chasing a goblet orfashioning a little silver saint; for Stephen loved his craft more thanhis rents; therefore, again, he was well liked in the quarter.
"Stephen! Stephen!" cried Prince Henry, impatiently hammering on theclosed door with his whip. "Plague take the man! Is he dead?"
The men in the quarter went on with their work; the women moved idly tothe doors; the girls came out into the street and clustered here andthere, looking at the Prince. For although he was not so handsome asthat scamp Rudolf, his brother, who had just come back from his travelswith half a dozen wild stories spurring after him, yet Henry was acomely youth, as he sat on his chestnut mare, with his blue eyes full ofimpatience, and his chestnut curls fringing his shoulders. So the girlsclustered and looked. Moreover Stephen the smith must come soon, and thesight of him was worth a moment's waiting; for he buried himself all dayin his workshop, and no laughing challenge could lure him out.
"Though, in truth," said one of the girls, tossing her head, "it'sthankless work to spend a glance on either, for they do not return it.Now when Rudolf comes----"
She broke off with a laugh, and her comrades joined in it. Rudolf leftno debts of that sort unpaid, however deep he might be in the books ofStephen Nados and of the others who furnished his daily needs.
Presently Stephen came, unbolting his door with much deliberation, andgreeting Prince Henry with a restrained courtesy. He was not very wellpleased to see his guest, for it was a ticklish moment with thenose of Saint Peter, and Stephen would have liked to finish the jobuninterrupted. Still, the Prince was a prince, a gentleman, and afriend, and Stephen would not be uncivil to him.
"You ride early to-day, sir," he observed, patting the chestnut mare.
"I have a good reason," answered Henry. "The Lion rages to-day."
Stephen put up his hand to shelter his eyes from a ray of sunshine thathad evaded the nodding walls and crept in; it lit up his flaxen hair,which he wore long and in thick waves, and played in his yellow beard;and he looked very grave. For when the Lion raged, strange and alarmingthings might happen in the city of Strelsau. The stories of his last fitof passion were yet hardly old.
"What has vexed the King?" he asked; for he knew that Prince Henry spokeof his father, Henry surnamed the Lion, now an old man, yet as fierce aswhen he had been young. "Is it your brother again?"
"For a marvel, no. It is myself, Stephen. And he is more furious with methan he has ever been with Rudolf; aye, even more than he was at all thestories that followed my brother home."
"And what is the cause of it all, sir, and how is it in my power tohelp?"
"That you will find out very soon," said the Prince with a bitter laugh."You will be sent for to the palace in an hour, Stephen."
"If it is about the King's ring, the ring is not finished," saidStephen.
"It is not about the ring. Yet indeed it is, in a way, about a ring. Foryou are to be married, Stephen. This very day you are to be married."
"I think not, sir," said Stephen mildly. "For it is a thing that a manhimself hears about if it be true."
"But the King thinks so; Stephen, have you remarked, among my sisterOsra's ladies, a certain dark lady, with black hair and eyes? I cannotdescribe her eyes."
"But you can tell me her name, sir," suggested Stephen, who was apractical man.
"Her name? Oh, her name is Hilda--Hilda von Lauengram."
"Aye, I know the Countess Hilda. I have made a bracelet for her."
"She is the most beautiful creature alive!" cried Prince Henry, in asudden rapture and so loudly (being carried away by his passion) thatthe girls heard him and wondered of whom he spoke with so great anenthusiasm.
"To those to whom she seems such," observed Stephen. "But, pray, how amI concerned in all this, sir?"
The Prince's smile grew more bitter as he answered:
"Why, you are to marry her. It was an idle suggestion of Osra's, made injest; my father is pleased to approve of it in earnest."
Then he bent in his saddle and went on in a hurried urgent whisper: "Ilove her better than my life, Stephen--better than heaven; and my faithand word are pledged to her; and last night I was to have fled withher--for I knew better than to face the old Lion--but Osra found hermaking preparations and we were discovered. Then Osra was scornful, andthe King mad, and Rudolf laughed; and when they talked of what was to bedone to her, Osra came in with her laughing suggestion. It caught theKing's angry fancy, and he swore that it should be so. And, since theArchbishop is away, he has bidden the Bishop of Modenstein be at thepalace at twelve to-day, and you will be brought there also, and youwill be married to her. But, by heavens, I'll have your blood if youare!" With this sudden outbreak of fury the Prince ended. Yet a momentlater, he put out his hand to the smith, saying: "It's not your fault,man."
"That's true enough," said the smith; "for I have no desire to marryher; and it is not fitting that a lady of her birth should mate with asmith; she is of a great house, and she would hate and despise me."
Prince Henry was about to assent when his eye chanced to fall on Stephenthe smith. Now the smith was a very handsome man--handsomer, many said,than Prince Rudolf himself, whom no lady could look on withoutadmiration; he stood six feet and two inches in his flat working shoes;he was very broad, and could leap higher and hurl a stone farther thanany man in Strelsau. Moreover he looked kind and gentle, yet was reputedto grow angry at times, and then to be very dangerous. Therefore PrinceHenry, knowing (or thinking that he knew) the caprices of women, and howthey are caught by this and that, was suddenly seized with a terriblefear that the Countess Hilda might not despise Stephen the smith. Yet hedid not express his fear, but said that it was an impossible thing thata lady of the Countess's birth (for the House of Lauengram was verynoble) should wed a silversmith, even though he were as fine a fellow ashis good friend Stephen; to which gracious speech Stephen made no reply,but stood very thoughtful, with his hand on the neck of the chestnutmare. But at last he said: "In any case it cannot be, for I am boundalready."
"A wife? Have you a wife?" cried the Prince eagerly.
"No; but my heart is bound," said Stephen the smith.
"The King will make little of that. Yet who is she? Is she any of thesegirls who stand looking at us?"
"No, she is none of these," answered Stephen, smiling as though such anidea were very ludicrous.
"And are you pledged to her?"
"I to her, but not she to me."
"But does she love you?"
"I
think it most unlikely," said Stephen the smith.
"The Lion will care nothing for this," groaned the Prince despondently."They will send for you in half an hour. For heaven's sake spare her,Stephen!"
"Spare her, sir?"
"Do not consent to marry her, however urgently the King may commandyou."
The smith shook his head, smiling still. Prince Henry rode sorrowfullyaway, spending not a glance on the bevy of girls who watched him go; andStephen, turning into his house, shut the door, and with one great sighset to work again on the nose of Saint Peter.
"For anyhow," said he, "a man can work." And after a long pause headded, "I never thought to tell any one; but if I must, I must."
Now, sure enough, when the clock on the Cathedral wanted a quarter of anhour of noon, two of the King's Guard came and bade Stephen follow themwith all haste to the palace; and since they were very urgent and notime was to be lost, he followed them as he was, in his apron, withoutwashing his hands or getting rid of the dust that hung about him fromhis work. However he had finished Saint Peter's nose and all had gonewell with it, so that he went in a contented frame of mind, determinedto tell the whole truth to King Henry the Lion sooner than be forcedinto a marriage with the Countess Hilda von Lauengram.
The Lion sat in his great chair; he was a very thin old man, with a facehaggard and deeply lined; his eyes, set far back in his head, glowed andglowered, and his fingers pulled his sparse white beard. On his rightPrince Rudolf lolled on a low seat, smiling at the play; on his left satthat wonderfully fair lady, the Princess Osra, then in the first bloomof her young beauty; and she was smiling scornfully. Prince Henry stoodbefore his father, and some yards from him was the Countess Hilda,trembling and tearful, supported by one of her companions; and finally,since the Archbishop was gone to Rome to get himself a Scarlet Hat, theBishop of Modenstein, a young man of noble family, was there, mostrichly arrayed in choicest lace and handsomest vestments, ready toperform the ceremony. Prince Rudolf had beckoned the Bishop near him,and was jesting with him in an undertone. The Bishop laughed as a manlaughs who knows he should not laugh but cannot well help himself; forRudolf owned a pretty wit, although it was sadly unrestrained.
The King's fury, having had a night and a morning to grow cool in, hadnow settled into a cold ironical mood, which argued no less resolutionthan his first fierce wrath. There was a grim smile on his face as headdressed the smith, who, having bowed to the company, was standingbetween the Countess and Prince Henry.
"The House of Elphberg," said the King, with mocking graciousness, "wellrecognises your worth, Stephen, my friend. We are indebted to you----"
"It's a thousand crowns or more from Prince Rudolf alone, sire,"interrupted Stephen, with a bow to the Prince he named.
"For much faithful service," pursued the King, while Rudolf laughedagain. "I have therefore determined to reward you with the hand of alady who is, it may be, above your station, but in no way above yourworth. Behold her! Is she not handsome? On my word, I envy you, smith.She is beautiful, young, high-born. You are lucky, smith. Nay, nothanks. It is but what you deserve--and no more than she deserves. Takeher and be happy," and he ended with a snarling laugh, as he waved hislean veined hand towards the unhappy Countess, and fixed his sneeringeyes on the face of his son Henry, who had turned pale as death, butneither spoke nor moved.
"'TAKE HER AND BE HAPPY.'"--_Page 11._]
The Bishop of Modenstein--he was of the House of Hentzau, many of whichhave been famous in history--lifted up his hands in horror at Rudolf'slast whispered jest, and then, advancing with a bow to the King, askedif he were now to perform his sacred duties.
"Aye, get on with it," growled the Lion, not heeding the Countess's sobsor the entreaty in his son's face. And the Princess Osra sat unmoved,the scornful smile still on her lips; it seemed as though she had nopity for a brother who could stoop, or for a girl who had dared to soartoo high.
"Wait, wait!" said Stephen the smith. "Does this lady love me, sire?"
"Aye, she loves you enough for the purpose, smith," grinned the King."Do not be uneasy."
"May I ask her if she loves me, sire?"
"Why, no, smith. Your King's word must be enough for you."
"And your Majesty says that she loves me?"
"I do say so, smith."
"Then," said Stephen, "I am very sorry for her; for as there's a heavenabove us, sire, I do not love her."
Prince Rudolf laughed; Osra's smile broadened in greater scorn; theCountess hid her face in her companion's bosom. The old King roared outa gruff burst. "Good, good!" he chuckled. "But it will come withmarriage, smith; for with marriage love either comes or goes--eh, sonRudolf?--and since in this case it cannot go, you must not doubt, friendStephen, that it will come." And he threw himself back in his chair,greatly amused that a smith, when offered the hand of a Countess, shouldhesitate to take it. He had not thought of so fine a humiliation as thisfor the presumptuous girl.
"That might well be, sire," admitted Stephen, "were it not that I mostpassionately love another."
"Our affections," said the King, "are unruly things, smith, and must bekept in subjection; is it not so, son Rudolf?"
"It should be so, sire," answered the merry Prince.
But the Princess Osra, whose eyes had been scanning Stephen's figure,here broke suddenly into the conversation.
"Are you pledged to her whom you love so passionately?" she asked.
"I have not ventured to tell her of my love, madame," answered he,bowing low.
"Then there is no harm done," observed Prince Rudolf. "The harm lies inthe telling, not in the loving."
"Tell us something about her," commanded the Princess; and the King, wholoved sport most when it hurt others, chimed in: "Aye, let's hear abouther whom you prefer to this lady. In what shop does she work, smith? Ordoes she sell flowers? Or is she a serving-girl? Come, listen, Countess,and hear about your rival."
Prince Henry took one step forward in uncontrolled anger; but he couldnot meet the savage mirth in the old man's eyes, and, sinking into achair, spread his hand across his face. But Stephen, regarding the Kingwith placid good-humour, began to speak of her whom he loved sopassionately. And his voice was soft as he spoke.
"She works in no shop, sire," said he, "nor does she sell flowers, noris she a serving-girl; though I would not care if she were. But one day,when the clouds hung dark over our street, she came riding down it, andanother girl with her. The two stopped before my door, and, seeing them,I came out----"
"It is more than you do for me," remarked Prince Rudolf.
Stephen smiled, but continued his story. "I came out; and she whom Ilove gave me a bracelet to mend. And I, looking at her rather than atthe bracelet, said, 'But already it is perfect.' But she did not hear,for, when she had given me the bracelet, she rode on again at once andtook no more notice of me than of the flies that were crawling up mywall. That was the first and is the last time that I have spoken to heruntil this day. But she was so beautiful that there and then I sworethat, until I had found means and courage to tell her my love, and untilshe had thrice refused it, I would marry no other maiden nor speak aword of love."
"It seems to me," said Prince Rudolf, "that the oath has some prudencein it; for if she prove obdurate, friend Stephen, you will then be ableto go elsewhere; many lovers swear more intemperately."
"But they do not keep their oaths," said Stephen, with a shrewd look atthe Prince.
"You had best let him alone, my son," said the old King. "He knows whatall the country knows of its future King."
"Then he may go and hang with all the country," said the Princepeevishly.
But the Princess Osra leant a little forward towards Stephen, and theCountess Hilda also looked covertly out from the folds of her friend'sdress at Stephen. And the Princess said:
"Was she then so beautiful, this girl?"
"As the sun in heaven, madame," said the smith.
"As beautiful as my pretty sister?" asked Rudolf in carel
ess jest.
"Yes, as beautiful, sir," answered Stephen.
"Then," said the cruel old King, "very much more beautiful than thisCountess?"
"Of that you must ask your son Henry, sire," said Stephen discreetly.
"Nevertheless," said the King, "you must put up with the Countess. Wecannot all have what we want in this world, can we, son Henry?" and hechuckled again most maliciously.
"Not, sire, till my lady has thrice refused me," the smith reminded theKing.
"Then she must be quick about it. For we all, and my lord Bishop here,are waiting. Send for her, Stephen--by heaven, I have a curiosity to seeher!"
"And, by heaven! so have I," added Prince Rudolf with a merry smile."And poor Henry here may be cured by the sight."
The Princess Osra leant a little further forward, and said gently:
"Tell us her name, and we will send for her. Indeed I also would like tosee her."
"But if she refuses, I shall be worse off than I am now; and if she saysyes, still I must marry the Countess," objected the smith.
"Nay," said the King, "if she does not refuse you three times, you shallnot marry the Countess, but shall be free to try your fortune with thegirl;" for the smith had put the old Lion in a better temper, and hethought he was to witness more sport.
"Since your Majesty is so good, I must tell her name," said Stephen,"though I had rather have declared my love to herself alone."
"It is the pleasantest way," said Prince Rudolf, "but the thing can bedone in the presence of others also."
"You must tell us her name that we may send for her," said the Princess,her eyes wandering now from the Countess to the smith, and back to theCountess again.
"Well, then," said Stephen sturdily, "the lady who came riding down thestreet and took away my heart with her is called Osra, and her father isnamed Henry."
A moment or two passed before they understood what the smith had said.Then the old King fell into a fit of laughter, half choked by coughing;Prince Rudolf clapped his hands in merry mockery, and a deep flushspread over the face of the Princess; while the Countess, her companion,and the younger Prince seemed too astonished to do anything but stare.As for Stephen, having said what he had to say, he held his peace--athing in him which many men, and women also, would do well to imitate;and, if they cannot, let them pray for the grace that is needful. Heavenis omnipotent.
The old King, having recovered from his fit of laughing, looked round onthe smith with infinite amusement, and, turning to his daughter, hesaid: "Come, Osra, you have heard the declaration. It remains only foryou to satisfy our good friend's conscience by refusing him three times.For then he will be free to do our pleasure and make the Countess Hildahappy."
The heart of women is, as it would seem, a strange thing; for thePrincess Osra, hearing what the smith had said and learning that he hadfallen passionately in love with her on the mere sight of her beauty,suddenly felt a tenderness for him and a greater admiration than she hadentertained before; and although she harboured no absurd idea oflistening to his madness, or of doing anything in the world but laugh atit as it deserved, yet there came on her a strange dislike of theproject that she had herself, in sport, suggested: namely, that thesmith should be married immediately to the Countess Hilda by the LordBishop of Modenstein. The fellow, this smith, had an eye for truebeauty, it seemed. It would be hard to tie him down to this dusky,black-maned girl; for so the Princess described the lady whom herbrother loved, she herself being, like most of the Elphbergs, rather redthan black in color. Accordingly, when the King spoke to her, she saidfretfully:
"Am I to be put to refuse the hand of such a fellow as this? Why, torefuse him is a stain on my dignity!" And she looked most haughty.
"Yet you must grant him so much because of his oath," said the King.
"Well, then, I refuse him," said she tartly, and she turned her eyesaway from him.
"That is once," said Stephen the smith calmly, and he fixed his eyes onthe Princess's face. She felt his gaze, her eyes were drawn back to his,and she exclaimed angrily:
"Yes, I refuse him," and again she looked away. But he looked still moreintently at her, waiting for the third refusal.
"It is as easy to say no three times as twice," said the King.
"For a man, sire," murmured Prince Rudolf; for he was very learned inthe perilous knowledge of a woman's whims, and, maybe, read something ofwhat was passing in his sister's heart. Certainly he looked at her andlaughed, and said to the King:
"Sire, I think this smith is a clever man, for what he really desires isto wed the Countess, and to do it without disobliging my brother.Therefore he professes this ridiculous passion, knowing well that Osrawill refuse him, and that he will enjoy the great good fortune ofmarrying the Countess against his will. Thus he will obey you and befree from my brother's anger. In truth, you're a crafty fellow, MasterStephen!"
"There is no craft, sir," said Stephen. "I have told nothing but thetruth."
But the King swore a loud oath, crying: "Aye, that there is! Rudolf hashit the mark. Yet I do not grudge him his good luck. Refuse him, Osra,and make him happy."
But the dark flush came anew on the Princess's face, for now she did notknow whether the smith really loved her or whether he had been making ajest of her in order to save himself in the eyes of her brother Henry,and it became very intolerable to her to suppose that the smith desiredthe Countess, and had lied in what he said about herself, making a toolof her. Again, it was hardly more tolerable to give him to the Countess,in case he truly loved herself; so that her mind was very greatlydisturbed, and she was devoured with eagerness to know the reality ofthe smith's feelings towards her; for, although he was only a smith, yethe was a wonderfully handsome man--in truth, it was curious that she hadnot paid attention to his looks before. Thus she was reluctant to refusehim a third time, when the Bishop of Modenstein stood there, waitingonly for her word to marry him to the Countess; and she rose suddenlyfrom her seat and walked towards the door of the room, and, when she hadalmost reached the door, she turned her head over her shoulder and castone smile at Stephen the smith. As she glanced, the blush again mountedto her face, making her so lovely that her father wondered, and she saidin arch softness: "I'll refuse him the third time some other day; twodenials are enough for one day," and with that she passed through thedoor and vanished from their sight.
The King and Rudolf, who had seen the glance that she cast at Stephen,fell to laughing again, swearing to one another that a woman was a womanall the world over, whereat the lips of the Bishop twitched.
"But the marriage can't go on," cried Rudolf at last.
"Let it rest for to-day," said the King, whose anger was past. "Let itrest. The Countess shall be guarded; and, since this young fool" (and hepointed to his son Henry) "will not wander while she is caged, let himgo where he will. Then as soon as Osra has refused the smith a thirdtime, we will send for the Bishop."
"And what am I to do, sire?" asked Stephen the smith.
"Why, my son-in-law that would be," chuckled the King, "you may go backto where you came from till I send for you again."
So Stephen, having thanked the King, went back home, and, sitting downto the chasing of a cup, became very thoughtful; for it seemed to himthat the Countess had been hardly treated, and that the Prince deservedhappiness, and that the Princess was yet more lovely than his eyes hadfound her before.
Thus, in his work and his meditations, the afternoon wore away fast. Sogoes time when hand and head are busy.
* * * * *
The Princess Osra walked restlessly up and down the length of herbed-chamber. Dinner was done and it was eight o'clock, and, the seasonbeing late October, it had grown dark. She had come thither to be alone;yet, now that she was alone, she could not rest. He was an absurdfellow--that smith! Yes, she thought him fully as handsome as herbrother Rudolf. But what did Henry find to love in the black-brownHilda? She could not understand a man caring for such a colour; abla
ckamoor would serve as well! Ah, what had that silly smith meant? Itmust have been a trick, as Rudolf said. Yet when he spoke first of herriding down the street, there was a look in his eyes that a man canhardly put there of his own will. Did the silly fellow then really----?Nay, that was absurd; she prayed that it might not be true, for shewould not have the poor fool unhappy. Nay, he was no fool. It was atrick, then! How dared the insolent knave use her for his tricks? Wasthere no other maiden in Strelsau whose name would have served? Must helay his tongue to the name of a daughter of the Elphbergs? The fellowdeserved flogging, if it were a trick. Ah, was it a trick? Or was it thetruth? Oh, in heaven's name, which was it? And the Princess tore thedelicate silk of her ivory fan to shreds, and flung the naked stickswith a clatter on the floor.
"I can't rest till I know," she cried, as she came to a stand before along mirror let into the panel of the wall, and saw herself at fulllength in it. As she looked a smile came, parting her lips, and shethrew her head back as she said: "I will go and ask the smith what hemeant." And she smiled again at her own face in triumphant daring; forwhen she looked, she thought, "I know what he meant! Yet I will hearfrom himself what he meant."
Stephen the smith sat alone in his house; his apprentices were gone, andhe himself neither worked nor supped, but sat still and idle by hishearth. The street was silent also, for it rained and nobody was about.Then suddenly came a light timid rap at the door; so light was it thatthe smith doubted if he had really heard, but it came again and he roseleisurely and opened the door. Even as he did so a slight tall figureslipped by him, an arm pulled him back, the door was pushed close again,and he was alone inside the house with a lady wrapped in a longriding-cloak, and so veiled that nothing of her face could be seen.
"Welcome, madame," said Stephen the smith; and he drew a chair forwardand bowed to his visitor. He was not wearing his apron now, but wasdressed in a well-cut suit of brown cloth and had put on a pair of silkstockings. He might have been expecting visitors, so carefully had hearrayed himself.
"Do you know who I am?" asked the veiled lady.
"Since I was a baby, madame," answered the smith, "I have known the sunwhen I saw it, even though clouds dimmed its face."
A corner of the veil was drawn down, and one eye gleamed in frightenedmirth.
"Nobody knows I have come," said Osra. "And you do not know why I havecome."
"Is it to answer me for the third time?" asked he, drawing a stepnearer, yet observing great deference in his manner.
"It is not to answer at all, but to ask. But I am very silly to havecome. What is it to me what you meant?"
"I cannot conceive that it could be anything, madame," said Stephen,smiling.
"Yet some think her beautiful--my brother Henry, for example."
"We must respect the opinions of Princes," observed the smith.
"Must we share them?" she asked, drawing the veil yet a little aside.
"We can share nothing--we humble folk--with Princes or Princesses,madame."
"Yet we can make free with their names, though humbler ones would serveas well."
"No other would have served at all, madame."
"Then you meant it?" she cried in sudden half-serious eagerness.
"Nay, but what, madame?"
"I don't care whether you meant it or not."
"Alas! I know it so well, that I marvel you have come to tell me."
The Princess rose and began to walk up and down as she had in her ownchamber. Stephen stood regarding her as though God had made his eyes forthat one purpose.
"The thing is nothing," she declared petulantly, "but I have a fancy toask it. Stephen, was it a trick, or--or was it really so? Come, answerme! I can't spend much time on it."
"It is not worth a thought to you. If you say no a third time, all willbe well."
"You will marry the Countess?"
"Can I disobey the King, madame?"
"I am very sorry for her," said the Princess. "A lady of her rank shouldnot be forced to marry a silversmith."
"Indeed I thought so all along. Therefore----"
"You played the trick?" she cried in unmistakable anger.
Stephen made no answer for a time, then he said softly: "If she lovesthe Prince and he her, why should they not marry?"
"Because his birth is above hers."
"I am glad, then, that I am of no birth, for I can marry whom I will."
"Are you so happy and so free, Stephen?" sighed the Princess; and therewas no more of the veil left than served to frame the picture of herface.
"So soon as you have refused me the third time, madame," bowed thesmith.
"Will you not answer me?" cried the Princess; and she smiled no more,but was as eager as though she were asking some important question.
"Bring the Countess here to-morrow at this time," said Stephen, "and Iwill answer."
"You wish, perhaps, to make a comparison between us?" she askedhaughtily.
"I cannot be compelled to answer except on my own terms," said thesmith. "Yet if you will refuse me once again, the thing will befinished."
"I will refuse you," she cried, "when I please."
"But you will bring the Countess, madame?"
"I am very sorry for her. I have behaved ill to her, Stephen, though Imeant only to jest."
"There is room for amends, madame," said he.
The Princess looked long and curiously in his face, but he met herglance with a quiet smile.
"It grows late," said he, "and you should not be here longer, madame.Shall I escort you to the palace?"
"And have every one asking with whom Stephen the smith walks? No, I willgo as I came. You have not answered me, Stephen."
"And you have not refused me, madame."
"Will you answer me to-morrow when I come with the Countess?"
"Yes, I will answer then."
The Princess had drawn near to the door; now Stephen opened it for herto pass out; and as she crossed the threshold, she said:
"And I will refuse you then--perhaps;" with which she darted swiftlydown the dark, silent, shining street, and was gone; and Stephen, havingclosed the door, passed his hand twice over his brow, sighed thrice,smiled once, and set about the preparation of his supper.
On the next night, as the Cathedral clock struck nine, there arose asudden tumult and excitement in the palace. King Henry the Lion was insuch a rage as no man had ever seen him in before; even Rudolf, his son,did not dare to laugh at him; courtiers, guards, attendants, lackeys,ran wildly to and fro in immense fear and trepidation. A little later,and a large company of the King's Guard filed out, and, under thecommand of various officers, scattered themselves through the whole ofStrelsau, while five mounted men rode at a gallop to each of the fivegates of the city, bearing commands that the gates should be closed, andno man, woman, or child be allowed to pass out without an order underthe hand of the King's Marshal. And the King swore by heaven, and bymuch else, that he would lay them--that is to say, the persons whosedisappearance caused all this hubbub--by the heels, and that they shouldknow that there was life in the Lion yet; whereat Prince Rudolf lookedas serious as he could contrive to look--for he was wonderfullyamused--and called for more wine. And the reason of the whole thing wasno other than this, that the room of the Princess Osra was empty, andthe room of the Countess Hilda was empty, and nobody had set eyes onHenry, the King's son, for the last two hours or more. Now these factswere, under the circumstances of the case, enough to upset a man of atemper far more equable than was old King Henry the Lion.
Through all the city went the Guards, knocking at every door, disturbingsome at their suppers, some from their beds, some in the midst ofrevelry, some who toiled late for a scanty livelihood. When the doorswere not opened briskly, the Guard without ceremony broke them in; theyransacked every crevice and cranny of every house, and displayed theutmost zeal imaginable; nay, one old lady they so terrified that she hada fit there where she lay in bed, and did not recover for the best partof a month. And thus,
having traversed all the city and set the wholeplace in stir and commotion, they came at last to the street whereStephen lived, and to the sign of the "Silver Ship," where he carried onthe business bequeathed to him by Aaron Lazarus the Jew.
"Rat, tat, tat!" came thundering on the door from the sword-hilt of theSergeant in command of the party.
There was no answer; no light shone from the house, for the window wasclosely shuttered. Again the Sergeant hammered on the door.
"This pestilent smith is gone to bed," he cried in vexation. "But wemust leave no house unsearched. Come, we must break in the door!" and hebegan to examine the door, and found that it was a fine solid door, ofgood oak and clamped with iron.
"Phew, we shall have a job with this door!" he sighed. "Why, in thedevil's name, doesn't the fellow answer? Stephen, Stephen! Ho, there!Stephen!"
Yet no answer came from the inside of the house.
But at this moment another sound struck sharp on the ears of theSergeant and his men. It was the noise of flames crackling; from thehouse next to Stephen's (which belonged to him, but was inhabited by afruit-seller) there welled out smoke in volumes from every window; andthe fruit-seller and his family appeared at the windows calling for aid.Seeing this, the Sergeant blew very loudly the whistle that he carriedand cried "Fire!" and bade his men run and procure a ladder; for plainlythe fruit-seller's house was on fire, and it was a more urgent matter torescue men and women from burning than to find the Countess and thePrince. Presently the ladder came, and a great crowd of people, rousedby the whistle and the cries of fire, came also; and then the door ofStephen's house was opened, and Stephen himself, looking out, asked whatwas the matter. Being told that the next house was on fire, he turnedvery grave--for the house was his--and waited for a moment to watch thefruit-seller and his family being brought down the ladder, which taskwas safely and prosperously accomplished. But the Sergeant said to him:"The fire may well spread, and if there is anyone in your house, itwould be prudent to get them out."
"That is well thought of," said Stephen approvingly. "I was working latewith three apprentices, and they are still in the house." And he put hishead in at his door and called: "You had better come out, lads, the firemay spread." But the Sergeant turned away again and busied himself inputting the fire out.
Then three lads, one being very tall, came out of Stephen's house, cladin their leather breeches, their aprons, and the close-fitting caps thatapprentices wore; and for a moment they stood watching the fire at thefruit-seller's. Then, seeing that the fire was burning low--which it didvery quickly--they did not stay till the attention of the Sergeant wasreleased from it, but, accompanied by Stephen, turned down the street,and, going along at a brisk rate, rounded the corner and came into theopen space in front of the Cathedral.
"The gates will be shut, I fear," said the tallest apprentice. "How camethe fire, Stephen?"
"It was three or four trusses of hay, sir, and a few crowns to repairhis scorched paint. Shall we go to the gate?"
"Yes, we must try the gate," said Prince Henry, gathering the hand ofthe Countess into his; and the third apprentice walked silently byStephen's side. Yet once as she went, she said softly:
"So it was no trick, Stephen?"
"No trick, but the truth, madame," said Stephen.
"I do not know," said Osra, "how I am to return to the palace in theseclothes."
"Let us get your brother and the Countess away first," counselled thesmith.
Now when they came to the nearest gate it was shut; but at the moment atroop of mounted men rode up, having been sent by the King to scour thecountry round, in case the fugitives should have escaped already fromthe city. And the Commandant of the company bore an order from theKing's Marshal for the opening of the gate. Seeing this, Stephen thesmith went up to him and began to talk to him, the three apprenticesstanding close by. The Commandant knew Stephen well, and was pleased totalk with him while the gates were opened and the troopers filedthrough. Stephen kept close by him till the troopers were all through.Then he turned and spoke to the apprentices, and they nodded assent. TheCommandant checked his horse for an instant when he was half-way throughthe gate, and bent down and took Stephen's hand to shake it in farewell.Stephen took his hand with marvellous friendliness, and held it, andwould not let him go. But the apprentices edged cautiously nearer andnearer the gate.
"Enough, man, enough!" laughed the Commandant. "We are not parting forever."
"I trust not, sir, I trust not," said Stephen earnestly, still holdinghis hand.
"Come, let me go. See, the gate-warden wants to shut the gate!"
"True!" said Stephen. "Good-bye then, sir. Hallo, hallo! stop, stop! Oh,the young rascals!"
For even as Stephen spoke, two of the apprentices had darted through thehalf-closed gate, and run swiftly forward into the gloom of the night.Stephen swore an oath.
"The rogues!" he cried. "They were to have worked all night to finish animage of Our Lady! And now I shall see no more of them till to-morrow!They shall pay for their prank then, by heaven they shall!" But theCommandant laughed.
"I am sorry I can't catch them for you, friend Stephen," said he, "but Ihave other fish to fry. Well, boys will be boys. Don't be too hard onthem when they return."
"They must answer for what they do," said Stephen; and the Commandantrode on and the gates were shut.
Then the Princess Osra said:
"Will they escape, Stephen?"
"They have money in their purses, love in their hearts, and an angryKing behind them. I should travel quickly, madame, if I were so placed."
The Princess looked through the grating of the gate.
"Yes," she said, "they have all those. How happy they must be, Stephen!But what am I to do?"
Stephen made no answer and they walked back in silence to his house. Itmay be that they were wondering whether Prince Henry and the Countesswould escape. Yet it may be that they thought of something else. Whenthey reached the house, Stephen bade the Princess go into the inner roomand resume her own dress that she might return to the palace, and thatit might not be known where she had been nor how she had aided herbrother to evade the King's prohibition; and when she, still strangelysilent, went in as he bade her, he took his great staff in his hand, andstood on the threshold of the house, his head nearly touching the linteland his shoulders filling almost all the space between door-post anddoor-post.
"STEPHEN STOOD ON THE THRESHOLD WITH HIS STAFF IN HISHAND."--_Page 37._]
When he had stood there a little while, the same Sergeant of the Guard,recollecting (now that the fire at the fruit-seller's was out) that hehad never searched the house of the smith, came again with his four men,and told Stephen to stand aside and allow him to enter the house.
"For I must search it," he said, "or my orders will not be performed."
"Those whom you seek are not here," said Stephen.
"That I must see for myself," answered the Sergeant. "Come, smith, standaside."
When the Princess heard the voices outside, she put her head round thedoor of the inner room, and cried in great alarm to Stephen:
"They must not come in, Stephen. At any cost they must not come in!"
"Do not be afraid, madame, they shall not come in," said he.
"I heard a voice in the house," exclaimed the Sergeant.
"It is nothing uncommon to hear in a house," said Stephen, and hegrasped more firmly his great staff.
"Will you make way for us?" demanded the Sergeant. "For the last time,will you make way?"
Stephen's eyes kindled; for though he was a man of peace, yet hisstrength was great and he loved sometimes to use it; and above all, heloved to use it now at the bidding and in protection of his dearPrincess. So he answered the Sergeant from between set teeth:
"Over my dead body you can come in."
Then the Sergeant drew his sword and his men set their halberds in rest,and the Sergeant, crying, "In the King's name!" came at Stephen withdrawn sword and struck fiercely at him.
But Stephen let the great staffdrop on the Sergeant's shoulder, and the Sergeant's arm fell powerlessby his side. Thereupon the Guards cried aloud, and people began to comeout of their houses, seeing that there was a fight at Stephen's door.And Stephen's eyes gleamed, and when the Guards thrust at him, he struckat them, and two of them he stretched senseless on the ground; for hisheight and reach were such that he struck them before they could comenear enough to touch him, and having no firearms they could not bringhim down.
The Princess, now fully dressed in her own garments, came out into theouter room, and stood there looking at Stephen. Her bosom rose and fell,and her eyes grew dim as she looked; and growing very eager, and beingvery much moved, she kept murmuring to herself, "I have not said nothrice!" And she spent no thought on the Countess or her brother, nor onhow she was to return undetected to the palace, but saw only the figureof Stephen on the threshold, and heard only the cries of the Guards whoassaulted him. It seemed to her a brave thing to have such a man tofight for her, and to offer his life to save her shame.
Old King Henry was not a patient man, and when he had waited two hourswithout news of son, daughter, or Countess, he flew into a mightypassion and sent one for his horse, and another for Rudolf's horse, anda third for Rudolf himself; and he drank a draught of wine, and calledto Rudolf to accompany him, that they might see for themselves what thelazy hounds of Guards were doing, that they had not yet come up with thequarry. Prince Rudolf laughed and yawned and wished his brother at thedevil, but mounted his horse and rode with the King. Thus they traversedthe city, riding swiftly, the old King furiously upbraiding everyofficer and soldier whom he met; then they rode to the gate; and all thegate-wardens said that nobody had gone out, save that one gate-wardenadmitted that two apprentices of Stephen the silversmith had contrivedto slip out when the gates were open to let the troopers pass. But theKing made nothing of it, and, turning with his son, rode up the streetwhere Stephen lived. Here they came suddenly into the midst of a crowd,that filled all the roadway, and would hardly let the horses move evenat a foot's pace. The King cried out angrily, "What is this tumult?"
Then the people knew him, and, since common folk are always anxious toserve and commend themselves to the great, a score began all at once totell him what had happened, some starting with the fire, some goingstraight to the fight; and the King could not make head or tail of thebabel of voices and different stories. And Prince Rudolf dropped hisreins and sat on his horse laughing. But the King, his patience beingclean gone, drew his sword and cried fiercely, "Make way!" and set hisspurs to his horse, not recking whether he hurt any man in life or limb.Thus he gained a passage through the crowd, and came near to Stephen'shouse, Prince Rudolf following in his wake, still greatly amused at allthat was happening.
But the sight they saw there arrested even Prince Rudolf's smiles, andhe raised himself in his stirrups with a sudden cry of wonder. For fourmore of the Guard had come, and there were now six standing round thedoorway, and three lay stretched on the ground; but Stephen the smithstill stood on the threshold, with his staff in his hand. Blood flowedfrom a wound in his head, but he twirled the staff to and fro, and wasnot weary, and none of the Guard dared to rush in and close with him.Thus he had held the threshold for an hour; yet the Princess Osra couldnot escape unless he could drive off the Guard for a few moments, andthis he hoped to do, thinking that they might draw off and wait forreinforcements; but in any case he had sworn that they should not pass.And Osra did not pray him to let them pass, but stood motionless in themiddle of the room behind him, her hands clasped, her face rigid, andher eyes all aflame with admiration of his strength and his courage.
Thus matters were when the old King and Prince Rudolf broke through thecrowd that ringed the house round, and the King cried out, asking whatwas the meaning of all that he saw.
But when the King heard that Stephen the smith resisted the officers,would not suffer his house to be searched, had stretched three of theGuards senseless on the ground, and still more than held his own, hefell into a great rage; he roared out on them all, calling them cowards,and, before his son or any one else could stop him, he drew his sword,and dug his spurs into his horse; the horse bounded forward and knockeddown one of the Guards who stood round Stephen. Then the King, neitherchallenging Stephen to yield, nor giving him time to stand aside, beingcarried away by passion, raised his sword and rode full at him. And thePrincess from within caught sight of his face, and she fell on her kneeswith a moan and hid her face. Then Stephen saw that it was the King andnone other who rode against him; and even had the King given him time,it may be that he would not have yielded, for he was a very resoluteman, and he had pledged his promise to Osra the Princess. But he had notime for thought, for the King was on him in the space of a second, andhe could do nothing but drop the staff that he held, and standdefenceless in the doorway; for he would neither strike the King noryield the passage. But the King, in his fury not heeding that Stephenhad dropped his staff, drew back his arm and lunged with his sword, andthrust the smith through the chest; and Stephen reeled and fell on oneknee, and his blood flowed out on the stone of the doorstep. Then theKing reined in his horse, and sat looking down on Stephen; but Rudolfleapt to the ground, and came and caught hold of Stephen, supportinghim, and asking, "What does it mean, man, what does it mean?"
Then Stephen, being very faint with his wound, said with difficulty:"Come in alone--you and the King alone."
Prince Rudolf looked at the King, who sheathed his sword and dismountedfrom his horse; the Prince supported Stephen inside the house, and theKing followed them, shutting the door on all the people outside.
Then King Henry saw his daughter, crouching now in the middle of theroom, her face hidden in her hands. Surprise and wonder banished hisrage and he could not do more than gasp her name, while the Prince, whoknelt supporting Stephen, cried to her, asking how she came there; butshe answered nothing. She took her hands from her face and looked atStephen; and when she saw that he was hurt and bleeding, she fell tosobbing and hid her face again. And she did not know whether she wouldhave him live or die; for if he lived he could not be hers, and if hedied her heart would ache sorely for him. Then Stephen, being supportedby the arms of Prince Rudolf, made shift to speak, and he told the Kinghow, at his persuasion, the Princess had brought the Countess thither;how he himself had contrived the presence of the Prince at the sametime, how again the Princess had been prevailed upon to aid the lovers;how they assumed the disguise of apprentices; and how, hearing thearrival of the Guard, they had escaped out into the street; and lastly,how that the Prince and the Countess had got out of the city. But hesaid nothing of the fire at the fruit-seller's, nor of how he himselfhad bribed the fruit-seller to set the hay on fire, speaking to him fromthe back windows of the house, and flinging a purse of gold piecesacross to him; nor did this ever become known to the King. And whenStephen had said his say, he fell back very faint in the arms of thePrince; and the Prince tore a scarf from his waist, and tried to staunchthe blood from Stephen's wound. But the old King, who was a hard man,smiled grimly.
"Indeed he has tricked us finely, this smith, and he is a cleverfellow," said he; "but unless he would rather hang than bleed to death,let his wound be, Rudolf. For by heaven, if you cure him, I will hanghim."
"Do not be afraid, sire," said Stephen; "the Prince cannot cure me. Youstill strike straight, though you are hard on seventy."
"Straight enough for a rascal like you," said the King well pleased; andhe added, "Hold the fellow easily, Rudolf, I would not have him suffer."And this was, they say, the only time in all his life that Henry theLion shewed a sign of pity to any man.
But Stephen was now very faint, and he cast his eyes towards thePrincess; and Rudolf followed his eyes. Now Rudolf had an affection forStephen, and he loved his sister, and was a man of soft heart; so hecried gently to Osra, "Come, sister, and help me with him." And sherose, and came and sat down by the wall, and gathered Stephen's headinto her lap; and there he lay, looking u
p at her, with a smile on hislips. But still he bled, and his blood stained the white cloak that shewore over her robe; and her tears dropped on his face. But Rudolf tookhis father by the arm, and led him a little way off, saying:
"What matter, sire? The girl is young, and the man is dying. Let thembe."
The old King, grumbling, let himself be led away; and perhaps even hewas moved, for he forgot Prince Henry and the Countess, and did notthink of sending men in pursuit of them, for which reason they obtaineda fair and long start in their flight.
Then Stephen, looking up at Osra, said:
"Do not weep, madame. They will escape now, and they will be happy."
"I was not weeping for them," said the Princess.
Stephen was silent for a little, and then he said:
"In very truth it was no trick, madame; it was even as I said, from thefirst day that you rode along the street here; it was always the same inmy heart, and would always have been, however long I had lived."
"I do not doubt it, Stephen; and it is not for doubt of it that I weep,"said she.
Then, after a little while, he said:
"Do you weep, madame, because I am dying?"
"Yes, I weep for that."
"Would you have me live, madame?" he asked.
"No, I would not--no--but I do not know," she said.
Then Stephen the smith smiled, and his smile was happy.
"Yet," said he, "it would make small difference to the Princess Osrawhether Stephen the smith lived or died."
At this, although he lay there a dying man, a sudden flush of red spreadall over her cheeks, and she turned her eyes away from his, and wouldnot meet his glance; she made him no answer, and he said again:
"What can it concern the Princess whether I live or die?"
Still the blush burnt on her cheek, and still she had no answer to giveto Stephen, as he lay dying with his head on her lap. And a bright gleamcame into his eyes, and he tried to move a hand towards her hand; andshe, seeing the effort, put out her hand and held his; and he whisperedvery low, for he could hardly speak:
"You have not yet refused me three times, madame."
At that her eyes came back to his, and their eyes dwelt long on oneanother. And for a moment it seemed to them that all things becamepossible, life and joy and love. Yet since all could not be, they werecontent that none should be.
Then the Princess bent low over his head, and she whispered to him:
"No, I have not refused you thrice, Stephen."
His lips just moved once again, and, being very near him, she heard:
"And you will not?" he said.
"No," said she, and she kissed his lips, and he smiled and turned on hisside; and he nestled his head, as it were cosily, on her lap, and hesaid no more.
Thus died Stephen the silversmith of Strelsau, happy in his deathbecause Osra the Princess had not refused him thrice. And she laid himgently on the ground, and rose, and went across to where the King satwith Rudolf.
"Sire, he is dead," said she.
"It is well," said the King. And he bade Rudolf go and cause all thepeople to leave the streets, and return to their houses; and when allthe streets were cleared, the Princess veiled herself, and her brothermounted her on his horse, and thus she rode back to the palace; and noneknew that she had been in the house of Stephen the silversmith.
And after many months Prince Henry, who had made good his escape andmarried the lady whom he loved, was reconciled to his father andreturned to the city of Strelsau. And when he heard how Stephen haddied, he raised a stately monument over him, and had carved on it hisname, and the day and year in which he had died; and underneath hecaused to be engraved the words, "From a Friend to a Friend." But whenthis monument had stood three days in its place, there came thither alady closely veiled; she prayed on her knees by the monument for a longwhile, and then rose and stood regarding it; and her eyes rested on thelast words that Prince Henry had written on the stone. Then she camenearer, and kissed the words, and, when she had kissed them, shewhispered softly, "From a Lover to a Lover"; and, having whispered this,she turned away and went back to the palace, and came no more to thetomb, for fear that the people should remark her coming. Yet often inthe days that followed she would open the window of her bed-chamber bynight, and she would whisper to the silent trusty darkness, that holdssecrets and comforts sore hearts:
"Not thrice, Stephen, not thrice!"
Therefore it may be that there had been a sweet madness in her heart,and that Stephen the silversmith had done a great thing, a thing thatwould appear impossible, before he died. And, as Prince Rudolf said,what matter? For the girl was young, and the dream was sweet, and theman was dead, and in death at last are all men equal.