CHAPTER VII.

  THE PRIDE OF YOUTH.

  But I am not going to relate the talk we had on that, Fraulein Annaand I. I learned one thing, and one only, and that I can put veryshortly. I saw my face as it were in a glass, and I was not pleasedwith the reflection. Listening to Fraulein Anna's biting hints andsidelong speeches--she did not spare them--I recognized that I wasjealous; that the ascendency the young lord had gained with my ladyand in the castle did not please me; and that if I would not make afool of myself and step out of my place, I must take myself roundly totask. Much might be forgiven to Fraulein Anna, who saw the quiet realmwherein she reigned invaded, and the friend she had gained won fromher in an hour. But her case differed from mine. I was a servant, andwoe to me if I forgot my place!

  Perhaps, also, it gave me pleasure to find my uneasiness shared. Atany rate, I felt better afterwards, and a message from my lady,bidding me rest my head and do nothing for the day, comforted me stillfurther. I went out, and finding the terrace quiet, and deserted byall except the sentry at the wicket, I sat down on one of the stoneseats which overlook the town and there began to think. The sun wasbehind a cloud and the air was fresh and cool, and I presently fellasleep with my head on my arms.

  While I slept my lady and the Waldgrave came and began to walk up anddown the terrace, and gradually little bits of their talk slid into mydreams, until I found myself listening to them between sleeping andwaking. The Waldgrave was doing most of the speaking, in the boyish,confident tone which became him so well. Presently I heard him say--

  'The whole art of war is changed, fair cousin. I had it from one whoknows, Bernard of Weimar. The heavy battalions, the great masses, theslow movements, the system invented by the great Captain of Cordovaare gone. Breitenfeld was their death-blow.'

  'Yet my uncle was a great commander,' my lady said, with a littletouch of impatience in her tone.

  'Of the old school.'

  I heard her laugh. 'You speak as if you had been a soldier for a scoreof years, Rupert,' she said.

  'Age is not experience,' he answered hardily. 'That is the mistake.How old was Alexander when he conquered Egypt? Twenty-three, cousin,and I am twenty-three. How old was the Emperor Augustus when he becameConsul of Rome? Nineteen. How old was Henry of England when heconquered France? Twenty-seven. And Charles the Fifth, at Pavia?Twenty-five.'

  'Sceptres are easy leading-staves,' my lady answered deftly. 'Allthese were kings, or the like.'

  'Then take Don John at Lepanto. He, too, was twenty-five.'

  'A king's son,' my lady replied quickly.

  'Then I will give you one to whom you can make no objection,' heanswered in a tone of triumph: 'Gaston de Foix, the Thunderbolt ofItaly. He who conquered at Como, at Milan, at Ravenna. How old washe when he died, leaving a name never to be forgotten in arms?Twenty-three, fair cousin. And I am twenty-three.'

  'But then you are not Gaston de Foix,' my lady retorted, laughterbubbling to her lips; 'nor a king's nephew.'

  'But I may be.'

  'What? A king's nephew?' the Countess answered, laughing outright.'Pray where is the king's niece?'

  'King's niece?' he exclaimed reproachfully--and I doubt not with akind look at her, and a movement as if he would have paid her for hersauciness. 'You know I want no king's niece. There is no king's niecein the world so sweet to my taste, so fair, or so gracious as thecousin I have been fortunate enough to serve during the last few days;and that I will maintain against the world.'

  'So here is my glove!' my lady answered gaily, finishing the speechfor him. 'Very prettily said, Rupert. I make you a thousand curtsies.But a truce to compliments. Tell me more.'

  He needed no second bidding; though I think that she would havelistened without displeasure to another pretty speech, and an olderman would certainly have made one. But he was full of the future andfame--and himself. He had never had such a listener before, and hepoured forth his hopes and aspirations, as he strode up and down, sogallant of figure and frank of face that it was impossible not to feelwith him. He was going to do this; he was going to do that. He wouldmake the name of Rupert of Weimar stand with that of Bernard. Neverwas such a time for enterprise. Gustavus Adolphus, with Sweden andNorth Germany at his back, was at Munich; Bavaria, Franconia, and theRhine Bishoprics were at his feet. The hereditary dominions of theEmpire, Austria, Silesia, Moravia, with Bohemia, Hungary, and theTyrol, must soon be his; their conquest was certain. Then would comethe division of the spoil. The House of Weimar, which had sufferedmore in the Protestant cause than any other princely house of Germany,which had resigned for its sake the Electoral throne and the rights ofprimogeniture, must stand foremost for reward.

  'And which kingdom shall you choose?' my lady asked, with a twinkle inher eye which belied her gravity. 'Bohemia or Hungary? or Bavaria?Munich I am told is a pleasant capital.'

  'You are laughing at me!' he said, a little hurt.

  'Forgive me,' she said, changing her tone so prettily that he wasappeased on the instant. 'But, speaking soberly, are you not curingthe skin before the bear is dead? The great Wallenstein is said to becollecting an army in Bohemia, and if the latest rumour is to bebelieved, he has already driven out the Saxons and retaken Prague. Thetide of conquest seems already to be turning.'

  'We shall see,' the Waldgrave answered.

  'Very well,' my lady replied. 'But, besides, is there not a proverbabout the lion's share? Will the Lion of the North forego his?'

  'We shall make him,' the young lord answered. 'He goes as far as wewish and no farther. Without German allies he could not maintain hisfooting for a month.'

  'Germany should blush to need his help,' my lady said warmly.

  'Never mind. Better times are coming,' he answered. 'And soon, Ihope.'

  With that they moved out of hearing, crossing to the other side of thecourt and beginning to walk up and down there; and I heard no more.But I had heard enough to enable me to arrive at two or threeconclusions. For one thing, I felt jealous no longer. My lady's tonewhen she spoke to the Waldgrave convinced me that whatever the futuremight bring forth, she regarded him in the present with liking, andsome pride perhaps, but with no love worthy of the name. A woman, shetook pleasure in his handsome looks and gallant bearing; she was fondof listening to his aspirations. But the former pleased her eyewithout touching her heart, and the latter never for a moment carriedher away.

  I was glad to be sure of this, because I discerned something lackingon his side also. It was 'Rotha,' 'sweet cousin,' 'fair cousin,' toosoon with him. He felt no reverence, suffered no pangs, trembled underno misgivings, sank under no sense of unworthiness. He thought thatall was to be had for pleasant words and the asking. Heritzburg seemeda rustic place to him, and my lady's life so dull and uneventful, mylady herself so little of a goddess, that he deemed himself above allrisk of refusal. A little difficulty, a little doubt, the appearanceof a rival, might awaken real love. But it was not in him now. He feltonly a passing fancy, the light offspring of propinquity and youth.

  But how, it may be asked, was I so wise that, from a few sentencesheard between sleeping and waking, I could gather all this, and drawas many inferences from a laugh as Fraulein Anna Max from a page ofcrabbed Latin? The question put to me then, as I sat day-dreaming overHeritzburg, might have posed me. I am clear enough about it now. Icould answer it if I chose. But a nod is as good as a wink to a blindhorse, and a horse with eyes needs neither one nor the other.

  Presently I saw Fraulein Anna come out and go sliding along one sideof the court to gain another door. She had a great book under her armand blinked like an owl in the sunshine, and would have run against mylady if the Waldgrave had not called out good-humouredly. She shotaway at that with a show of excessive haste, and was in the act ofdisappearing like a near-sighted rabbit, when my lady called to herpleasantly to come back.

  She came slowly, hugging the great book, and with her lips pursedtightly. I fancy she had been sittin
g at a window watching my lady andher companion, and that every laugh which rose to her ears, everymerry word, nay the very sunshine in which they walked, while she satin the dull room with her unread book before her, wounded her.

  'What have you been doing, Anna?' my lady asked kindly.

  'I have been reading the "Praise of Folly,"' Fraulein Max answeredprimly. 'I am going to my Voetius now.'

  'It is such a fine day,' my lady pleaded.

  'I never miss my Voetius,' Fraulein answered.

  The Waldgrave looked at her quizzically, with scarcely veiledcontempt. 'Voetius?' he said. 'What is that? You excite my curiosity.'

  Perhaps it was the contrast between them, between his strength andcomeliness and her weak figure and pale frowning face, that moved me;but I know that as he said that, I felt a sudden pity for her. Andshe, I think, for herself. She reddened and looked down and seemed togo smaller. Scholarship is a fine thing; I have heard Fraulein Annaherself say that knowledge is power. But I never yet saw a bookwormthat did not pale his fires before a soldier of fortune, nor a scholarthat did not follow the courtier and the ruffler with eyes of envy.

  Perhaps my lady felt as I did, for she came to the rescue. 'You aretoo bad,' she said. 'Anna is my friend, and I will not have herteased. As for Voetius, he is a writer of learning, and you would knowmore about many things, if you could read his works, sir.'

  'Do you read them?' he asked.

  'I do!' she answered.

  'Good heavens!' he exclaimed, staring at her freely and affecting tobe astonished. 'Well, all I can say is that you do not look like it!'

  My lady fired up at that. I think she felt for her friend. 'I do notthank you,' she said sharply. 'A truce to such compliments, if youplease. Anna,' she continued, 'have you been to see this poor girlfrom the town?'

  'No,' Fraulein Max answered.

  'She has come, has she not?'

  'And gone--to the stables!' And Fraulein Anna laughed spitefully. 'Sheis used to camp life, I suppose, and prefers them.'

  'But that is not right,' my lady said, with a look of annoyance.She turned and called to me. 'Martin,' she said, 'come here. Thisgirl--the papist from the town--why has she not been brought to thewomen's quarters in the house?'

  I answered that I did not know; that she should have been.

  'We will go and see,' my lady answered, nodding her head in a way thatpremised trouble should any one be found in fault. And without amoment's hesitation she led the way to the inner court, the Waldgravewalking beside her, and Fraulein Anna following a pace or two behind.The latter still hugged her book, and her face wore a look of secretanticipation. I took on myself to go too, and followed at a respectfuldistance, my mind in a ferment.

  The stable court at Heritzburg is small. The rays of the sun even atnoon scarcely warm it, and a shadow seemed to fall on our party as weentered. Two grooms, not on guard, were going about their ordinaryduties. They started on seeing my lady, who seldom entered that partwithout notice; and hastened to do reverence to her.

  'Where is the girl who was brought here from the town?' she said, in aperemptory tone.

  The men looked at one another, scared by her presence, yet not knowingwhat was amiss. Then one said, 'Please your excellency, she is in theroom over the granary.'

  'She should be in the house, not here,' my lady answered harshly.'Take me to her.'

  The man stared, and the Waldgrave, seeing his look of astonishment,interposed, murmuring that perhaps the place was scarcely fit.

  'For me?' my lady said, cutting him short, with a high look whichreminded me of her uncle, Count Tilly. 'You forget, sir cousin, that Iam not a woman only, but mistress here. Ignorance, which may be seemlyin a woman, does not become me. Lead on, my man.'

  The fellow led the way up a flight of outside steps which gave accessto the upper granary floor; and my lady followed, rejecting theWaldgrave's hand and gazing with an unmoved eye at the unfenced edgeon her left; for the stairs had no rail. At the top the groom openedthe door and squeezed himself aside, and my lady entered. TheWaldgrave had given place to Fraulein Anna--whom desire to see whatwould happen had blinded to the risks of the stairs--and she was notslow to follow. The young lord and I pressed in a pace behind.

  'This is not a fit place for a maiden!' I heard my lady say severely;and then she stopped. That was before I could see inside, the suddenpause coming as I entered. The loft was dark, the unglazed windowsbeing shuttered; but my eyes are good, and I knew the place, and sawat once--what my lady had seen, I think, at a second glance only--thatthe man beside whom the girl was kneeling--or had been kneeling, foras I entered she rose to her feet with a word of alarm--was bandagedfrom his chin to his crown, was helpless and maundering, talkingstrange nonsense, and rolling his head restlessly from side to side.

  'Why, you are a child!' my lady said; and this time her voice was softand low and full of surprise. 'Who is this?' she continued, pointingto the man; who never ceased to babble and move.

  'It is Steve, my lady,' I said. 'He was hurt below, in the town, andthe girl has been nursing him. I suppose she--I think no one told herto go elsewhere,' I added by way of apology for her.

  'Where could she be better?' my lady said in a low voice. 'Child,' shecontinued gently,' come here. Do not be afraid.'

  The girl had shrunk back at the sound of my lady's first words, or atsight of so large a company, and had taken her stand on the fartherside of Steve, where she crouched trembling and looking at us with aterrified face. Hearing herself summoned, she came slowly and timidlyforward, the little boy who had run to her holding her hand, andhiding his face in her skirts.

  'I am the countess,' my lady said, looking at her closely, but withkindness, 'and I have come to see how you fare.'

  It was a hard moment for the girl, but she did the very best thing shecould have done, and one that commended her to my lady's heart forever. For, bursting into tears--I doubt not the sound of a woman'svoice speaking mildly to her touched her heart--she dropped on herknees before the countess and kissed her hand, sobbing piteous wordsof thankfulness and appeal.

  'Chut! chut!' my lady said, a little tremor in her own voice. 'You aresafe now. Be comforted. You shall be protected here, whatever betide.But you have lost your father? Yes, I remember, child. Well, it isover now. You are quite safe. See, this gentleman shall be yourchampion. And Martin there. He is a match for any two. Tell me yourname.'

  'Marie--Marie Wort.' The girl answered suppressing her tears with aneffort.

  'How old are you?'

  'Seventeen, please your excellency.'

  'And where were you born, Marie?'

  'At Munich, in Bavaria.'

  'You are a Romanist, I hear?'

  'If it please your excellency.'

  'It does not please me at all,' my lady answered promptly; but shesaid it with so much mildness that Marie's eyes filled again. 'I warnyou, we shall, try to convert you--by kindness. So you are nursingthis poor fellow?' And my lady went up to Steve, and touched his handand spoke to him. But he did not know her, and she stepped back,looking grave.

  'The fever is on him now,' Marie said timidly. 'He is at his worst;but he will be better by-and-by, if your excellency pleases.'

  'He is fortunate in his nurse,' my lady answered, gazing searchinglyat the other's pale face. 'Will you stay with him, child, or would yourather come into the house, where my women could take care of you, andyou would be more comfortable?'

  A look of distress flickered in the girl's eyes. She hesitated andlooked down, colouring painfully. I dare say that with feminine tactshe knew that my lady even now thought it scarcely proper for her tobe there--in a house where only the men about the stable lived. Butshe found her answer.

  'He was hurt trying to protect me,' she murmured, in a low voice.

  My lady nodded. 'Very well,' she said; and I saw that she was notdispleased. 'You shall stay with him. I will see that you are takencare of. Come, Rupert, I think we have seen enough.'

  She signed to us to
go before her, and we all went out, and she closedthe door. At the head of the steps, when the Waldgrave offered her hishand, she waved it away, and stood.

  'Bring me a hammer and a nail,' she cried.

  Three or four men, nearly half our garrison, had collected below,hearing where we were. One of these ran and fetched what she calledfor; while we all waited and wondered what she meant. I took thehammer and nail from the man and went up again with them.

  ... with her own hands she drove the nail.... Then sheturned ...]

  'Give me my glove,' she said, turning abruptly to the Waldgrave.

  He had possessed himself of one in the course of the conversation Ihave partly detailed; and no doubt he did not give it up verywillingly. But there was no refusing her under the circumstances.

  'Hold it against the door!' she said.

  He obeyed, and with her own hands she drove the nail through theglove, pinning it to the middle of the door. Then she turned with alittle colour in her face.

  'That is my room!' she said, with a ring of menace in her tone. 'Letno one presume to enter it. And have a care, men! Whatever is wantedinside, place at the threshold and begone.'

  Then she came down, followed by the Waldgrave, and walked through themiddle of us and went back to the terrace, with Fraulein Anna at herheels. The Waldgrave lingered a moment to look at a sick horse, and Ito give an order. When we reached the terrace court a few minuteslater, we found my lady walking up and down alone in the sunshine.

  'Why, where is the learned Anna?' the Waldgrave said.

  'She is gone to amuse herself,' my lady answered, laughing. 'Voetiusis put aside for the moment in favour of Master Dietz!'

  'No?' the young lord exclaimed, in a tone of surprise. 'Thatyellow-faced atomy? She is not in love with him?'

  'No, sir, certainly not.'

  'Then what is it?'

  'Well, I think she is a little jealous,' my lady answered with asmile. 'We have been so long colloguing with a papist, Anna thinkssome amends are due to the Church. And she is gone to make them. Atany rate, she asked me a few minutes ago if she might pay a visit toDietz. "For what purpose?" I said. "To discuss a point with him," sheanswered. So I told her to go, if she liked, and by this time I don'tdoubt that they are hard at it.'

  'Over Voetius?'

  'No, sir,' my lady answered gaily. 'Beza more probably, or Calvin. Youknow little of either, I expect. I do not wonder that Anna is drivento seek more improving company.'