CHAPTER XII.
FAREWELL!
She sped as gracefully and quickly as a gazelle down the corridor. In the large hall into which it led stood Elza, surrounded by more than twenty Tyrolese sharpshooters, with whom she was talking in a loud, animated voice. Her cheeks were very pale, her lips were quivering, but her eyes flashed courageously, and, notwithstanding the paleness of her face, it did not betray the least anxiety or terror.
"Have you considered well what you are going to do, men of the Puster valley?" she asked, in a clear, full voice. "Do you know that you are about to rebel against your government and your king, and that the rebels will be judged and punished with the full rigor of the law? "
"But the Bavarians will not judge us, for we shall drive them from the country," shouted the Tyrolese. "We do not want a king nor a Bavarian government; we want to get back our Emperor Francis and our old constitution."
"But you will not succeed," said Elza; "you are too weak against them. There are too many of them and too few of you; they have cannon, and you have nothing but your rifles, and there are many of you who have not even a rifle."
"But we have our God and our emperor, and those two will help us.
The Austrians, as Andreas Hofer has written to us, are already in
the country, and all the people are rising to drive the French and
Bavarians from the country."
"It is so, Elza," said Eliza, encircling her friend's neck with her arm. "I know you—I know that you are a loyal daughter of the Tyrol, and you will be glad to see our dear country delivered from the foreign yoke and restored to the good Emperor Francis."
"But, Lizzie, think of my poor cousin Ulrich," whispered Elza to her. "He will defend himself to the last drop of his blood."
"He is unable to do so," whispered Lizzie, with a cheerful smile. "I have locked him up in the dining-room, and the key is here in my bosom. Ulrich cannot get out, therefore, and though he is furious and grim, he must remain in the room like a mouse in a trap."
"That reassures me," said Elza, smiling, "and I understand now, too, why my father acted in the manner he did. He doubtless suspected what would occur here, and got rid of all responsibility, leaving me entirely free to choose between my Bavarian relative and my Tyrolese countrymen. Here is my hand, Anthony Wallner; I am a loyal daughter of the Tyrol, and shout with you, 'Long live our Emperor Francis!'"
"Hurrah, long live our Emperor Francis!" shouted the Tyrolese. "Long live Miss Elza, the loyal daughter of the Tyrol!"
"Thank you," said Elza, smiling. "I think I shall prove my loyalty when dangers and war beset us. I shall establish here in the castle a hospital for our wounded, and the women of Windisch-Matrey will assist me, scrape lint, and help me to nurse the wounded. For without wounds and bloodshed we shall not recover our independence, and the Bavarians will not suffer themselves to be driven from the country without offering the most obstinate resistance. Have you considered that well, my friends?"
"We have; we are prepared for every thing," said Anthony, joyously. "We will suffer death rather than give up our emperor and our dear Tyrol. We do not want to become Southern Bavarians, but we will remain Tyrolese, and defend our constitution and our liberty to the last drop of our blood. Will we not, my friends?"
"Yes, we will," shouted the Tyrolese.
"And as for the Bavarians, we are not afraid of them," said Wallner, firmly. "All the functionaries have already humbly submitted to the freemen of the Tyrol. They have surrendered with their wives and children, delivered their funds at our demand, and are now guarded in their official dwellings by our men. And as for the Bavarian soldiers at the castle here, we need not be afraid of them either, for we have locked them up, like badgers in their holes, and they cannot get out of the door."
"But if they cannot get out of the door, they will jump out of the windows," said Elza, "and offer the most determined resistance."
"We shall see if they can," exclaimed Wallner, energetically. "We must get through with them right away. Come, men, we must see to the Boafoks."
And Anthony Wallner, followed by his sharpshooters, hastened out into the court-yard. Large numbers of armed men had assembled there in the mean time; even married women and young girls, carried away by the universal enthusiasm, had armed themselves and came to take an active part in the struggle for the fatherland and the emperor. All shouted and cheered in wild confusion, all swore to remain true to the fatherland and the emperor to their last breath. The soldiers looked on wonderingly, and watched in breathless irresolution for their captain from the windows.
At this moment, Anthony Wallner and a number of courageous sharpshooters took position in front of the windows.
"Soldiers," he shouted, in a thundering voice, "surrender! you are our prisoners! Surrender, throw your muskets and fire-arms out of the windows, and we will open the door of your prison and allow you to return to Bavaria."
The soldiers made no reply, but leaned far out of the windows and shouted: "Captain! Where is our captain?"
"Here I am!" shouted a powerful voice above the heads of the Tyrolese; and, looking up in great surprise, they beheld on the balcony young Captain Ulrich von Hohenberg, with a pale face, his features distorted with rage and grief, and stretching out his right arm, with his flashing sword menacingly toward the Tyrolese.
"Great God!" murmured Eliza, clinging anxiously to Elza's arm, "If he resists, he is lost."
"Here I am, my brave soldiers!" shouted Ulrich von Hohenberg a second time. "Come to me, my brave lads! I have been locked up here; hence, I cannot come to you. Come up to me, then. Knock the doors in, and deliver your captain."
"First, let them deliver themselves, sir," shouted Wallner up to him. He then turned once more to the soldiers. "Listen to what I am going to say to you in the name of my countrymen, in the name of the whole Tyrol," he shouted. "For four long years you have oppressed and maltreated us: you have insulted, humiliated, and mortified us every day. But we are Christians, and will not revenge ourselves; we want only our rights, our liberty, and our emperor. Therefore, if you submit willingly and with good grace to what cannot be helped, we will let you depart without punishing or injuring you in any way, and allow you to return to your accursed Bavaria. But first you will have to do two things, to wit: throw all your muskets out of the windows, and swear a solemn oath that you will no longer bear arms against the Tyrolese."
"You will never swear that oath, soldiers," shouted Ulrich von Hohenberg from his balcony. "You will keep the oath which you swore to your king and commander-in-chief. You will not incur the disgrace of surrendering to a crowd of rebellious peasants."
"No, no, we will not," shouted the soldiers to him; and thereupon they disappeared from the upper floor, and soon reappeared in dense groups at the windows of the lower story. These windows were only five feet above the ground, and they were therefore able to jump out of them.
"Shoot down the first soldier who jumps out of the window!" cried
Anthony Wallner to his sharpshooters.
The soldiers took no notice of his threats; a soldier appeared in each of the windows ready to risk the leap. One of them, more agile and intrepid than the others, was the first to jump down. Scarcely had his feet touched the ground, when a rifle crashed and a cloud of white smoke enveloped every thing for a moment. When it disappeared, the Bavarian soldier was seen to writhe on the ground in the agony of death, while one of the Tyrolese sharpshooters was quietly reloading his rifle.
But now crashed another shot, and the Tyrolese rifleman, pierced through the heart, reeled back into the arms of his friends with the last groan of death.
"Soldiers," cried Ulrich von Hohenberg, raising his discharged gun triumphantly, "I have avenged the death of your comrade. Now forward, jump down! Forward for your honor and your king!"
"Yes, forward for our honor and our king!" shouted the soldiers, and one of them jumped out of each of the windows.
Another shot was fired from the balcony, and wounded one of the
Tyrolese sharpshooters.
Wild cries of rage filled the court-yard, all eyes turned menacingly to the balcony. But Ulrich von Hohenberg had stepped back into the room, and nobody saw that he was reloading his fowling-piece, which, with his hunting-pouch and powder-horn, had hung in the dining-room.
"I shall defend myself until my soldiers come to deliver me," he said courageously to himself. Thereupon he moved the large table from the room to the balcony, placed it on its side, and leaned it against the railing; on the other side of the balcony he placed the bench in the same manner, and, protected behind this three-cornered barricade from the bullets of the Tyrolese, he pushed his gun into the aperture between the bench and the table, and fired again.
Furious cries again filled the court-yard, for the captain's shot had disabled another Tyrolese. The women wailed and lamented loudly, the men uttered fierce imprecations, and lifted their clinched fists menacingly toward the balcony. The soldiers had withdrawn from the windows, and were deliberating with their officers as to the course which they were to adopt. A defence was almost impossible, for, although they had their side-arms and carbines, they could not do any thing with the former before reaching the ground and engaging in a hand-to-hand fight with the peasants; and the carbines were utterly useless, as no ammunition had been distributed among them, the cartridges being in the captain's room in the main part of the castle.
"Ten of you will enter the castle," commanded Anthony Wallner now. "You will take the captain prisoner, and if he refuses to surrender, shoot him down as he has shot three of our brethren."
Ten of the most courageous sharpshooters stepped from the ranks and rushed into the castle.
"He is lost!" murmured Eliza Wallner, with pale lips, and she sank on her knees by the side of her friend Elza.
Now were heard resounding in the castle the thundering blows which the Tyrolese struck with the butt-ends of their rides against the door of the room where Ulrich von Hohenberg was locked up.
"The door is old and worm-eaten, it will give way," sighed Elza, and she hastened resolutely toward Anthony Wallner, who was just calling again on the soldiers with cool intrepidity to surrender to him.
"Anthony Wallner," she said, in a soft, suppliant voice, "you will not stain your great and sacred cause by cowardly murder. You will never think of killing in my father's own house his relative and guest?"
"Let him surrender: no harm will befall him then," cried Anthony Wallner, in a harsh, stern voice. "He has shed the blood of our men, and if he is killed, it will be done in a fair fight. Leave us now, miss; the struggle between the Tyrolese and the Boafoks has commenced; look at the corpses yonder, and say for yourself whether we can retrace our steps, and—"
A loud, thundering crash, followed by triumphant cheers, resounded in the castle.
"They have opened the door," murmured Eliza, still on her knees.
"Holy Virgin, protect him, or he is lost!"
A shot crashed in the dining-room, a cloud of white smoke issued from the open balcony doors, and a loud cry, accompanied by wild imprecations, was heard.
"He has shot another Tyrolese, you will see that he has!" shouted
Wallner, raising his clinched fists menacingly toward the balcony.
The cries drew nearer and nearer, and now Captain Ulrich von Hohenberg, his features pale and distorted with rage, rushed out on the balcony.
"Surrender!" shouted the Tyrolese, pursuing him.
"Never!" he cried. "I will die sooner than surrender to a rabble of peasants like you."
And forgetful of the dangers besetting him, and in the despair of his rage and grief, the captain jumped from the balcony into the midst of the crowd in the court-yard.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE BRIDEGROOM.
Wild shouts were heard now, and a great commotion arose among the Tyrolese. The bold deed of the Bavarian had surprised and confused them; they had forgot the soldiers for a moment, and riveted their whole attention on the captain.
He was uninjured, for, in jumping down, he had fallen on the backs of two Tyrolese, dragged them down with him, and thus broken the violence of the fall.
Before the two men, stunned by their sudden fall, had recovered from their surprise, Ulrich was again on his feet, and, drawing his sword, cleared himself a passage through the quickly-receding crowd.
"Come to me, my soldiers, come to me!" he shouted, in a panting voice.
"Here we are, captain," cried twenty soldiers, driving the crowd back with powerful strokes. They had profited by the favorable moment when the windows had not been watched, and had jumped to the ground.
Now followed a hand-to-hand struggle of indescribable fury. Nothing was heard but the wild imprecations and shouts of the fighting, the shrieks and groans of the wounded and the screams of the women and children.
But amidst the struggle and the general confusion Anthony Wallner did not lose his presence of mind. He had posted twenty sharpshooters in front of the windows, behind which the soldiers were standing, and, with rifles raised, they threatened death to all who should dare to approach the windows. Hence, the soldiers bad retired into the back part of the rooms, and were deliberating on the course which they were to pursue. But their faces were anxious and irresolute, and they whispered to each other: "If our captain should fall, nothing remains for us but to surrender."
But their captain had not yet fallen; he still lived and defended himself courageously, surrounded by his soldiers, against the Tyrolese, who attacked him furiously and parried the sabre-strokes with the butt-ends of their rifles, but had no room, and did not dare to shoot at him, for fear of hitting in the wild melee one of their own men instead of their enemy.
But the odds were too great; six of the soldiers had already been knocked down by the butt-ends of the Tyrolese rifles. The Tyrolese had wrested the sabres from the hands of the fallen soldiers, and had rushed with them upon their comrades. Then followed a furious hand-to-hand struggle. The fumes of the blood flowing on the ground, the shouts of the combatants, the hatred and fury with which the enemies stood face to face, had filled their hearts with boundless ferocity. Nobody gave, nobody asked quarter. Under the butt-end blows of the Tyrolese, the Bavarians sank to the ground with a glance of hatred; pierced by the swords of the Bavarians, the Tyrolese fell, with an imprecation on their lips.
Ulrich von Hohenberg was still holding his ground; his sword had spread destruction and death around him; he was still encouraging his soldiers with loud shouts, but his voice was beginning to grow faint, and his blood was running from a terrible wound in his shoulder.
"To the rescue, soldiers?" he shouted now with a last effort, "do not suffer your captain to be slain by miserable peasants. To the rescue! help me or shoot me, that I may die an honorable death, and not be assassinated by the traitors."
"I will comply with your wishes," cried Anthony Wallner, rushing into the midst of the bloody melee close up to the captain; "yes, you shall die; I will put an end to your life!"
And his arm, brandishing the sword of a fallen Bavarian, rose threateningly above Ulrich's head, while two other Tyrolese rushed upon him from behind with furious shouts.
At this moment two hands clutched Wallner's arm convulsively, and a loud, anxious voice exclaimed:
"Father, do not kill him! He is my bridegroom!"
"Her bridegroom!" echoed the Tyrolese, starting back in surprise.
"Your bridegroom?" asked Anthony Wallner, casting a look of dismay on his daughter Eliza, who was standing in front of her father, pale, with flashing eyes, encircling Ulrich's neck with one arm, lifting up the other menacingly, and staring at her father with a resolute and defiant expression.
"Away from him, Lizzie!" cried Wallner, furiously; "I cannot believe that my child will inflict on me the disgrace of loving a Bavarian."
"Yes, I love him," exclaimed Eliza, with glowing cheeks. "If you wish to kill him, you must kill me first, for we have sworn to live and die together. He is my bridegroom, father, and shall become my husband, so help me God!"
"No, never!" cried Ulrich von Hohenberg, trying to disengage himself from Eliza. "Never can the peasant-girl become my wife! Begone, Eliza, I have nothing further to do with you."
"And still you swore a few minutes ago that you loved nothing on earth more dearly than me alone," said Eliza, in a loud voice, "and you implored me to go with you and remain always by your side?"
"But never did I say that I would marry you," exclaimed Ulrich, pale with rage, and still trying to disengage himself from Eliza's arm.
"You would not marry her!" cried Anthony Wallner; "you intended only to dishonor her, my proud Bavarian gentleman? You thought a Tyrolese peasant-girl's honor an excellent pastime, but you would not marry her?"
"Father, father," cried Eliza, beseechingly, clinging firmly to Ulrich's side, "father, I love him and cannot live without him. He is my bridegroom!"
"No, no!" shouted Ulrich, and a wild imprecation against Eliza burst from his lips.
The Tyrolese in the mean time had long since overpowered the few soldiers, and, attracted by the strange scene, crowded around the curious group; only the twenty sharpshooters were still standing with rifles raised in front of the windows of the imprisoned soldiers, and watching them with threatening eyes.
Anthony Wallner had dropped his arm and looked down musingly; on hearing the captain's insulting words, he gave a shout and lifted up his face flushed with pride and indignation.
"Just listen to the traitor, brethren!" he said in the cold, quiet tone which only the most profound exasperation imparts to the human voice. "First he turned the girl's head and heart by the protestations of his love, causing her even to forget her father and her Tyrol; and now he insults her and refuses to marry her!"
"He said it only in his rage, father, but he loves me after all," exclaimed Eliza, clinging to the captain notwithstanding his resistance, and trying to wrest his sword from him.
"Begone, Eliza!" cried Ulrich, "or—" He pushed her violently from him, and quickly raised his sword against her. But two Tyrolese prevented him from carrying out his fell design by rushing upon him, seizing his arm with Herculean strength, wresting the sword from his hand, throwing the weapon tar away, and exclaiming triumphantly: "Now surrender, Bavarian! You are our prisoner."
" Then shoot me at least," shouted Ulrich, beside himself with rage; "shoot me, I say; death is preferable to the disgrace of being a prisoner of such miserable rabble."
"Hush, beloved, for God's sake, hush!" said Eliza, clinging to him tenderly.
He pushed her violently from his side. "Begone, hypocritical wench!" he shouted in a paroxysm of fury; "I do not want to have any thing to do with you!"
"But you shall have something to do with her," said Anthony Wallner, with proud calmness. "The girl says that she loves you, and that you promised to marry her. It was bad in you to persuade her behind the backs of her parents and infatuate her poor heart, and you shall be punished now for your infamy. You shall marry Lizzie. The proud and wealthy baron who despises the Tyrolese peasants so much shall now marry the Tyrolese peasant-girl."
"Yes, yes, that is right," exclaimed the Tyrolese exultingly; "the proud baron shall marry the Tyrolese peasant-girl."
"Let us go down to the village, then," said Anthony Wallner; "our curate shall marry them immediately at the church; and then let the two leave the place as quickly as possible, and beware of ever returning to Windisch-Matrey; for never shall the wife of the Bavarian Captain Ulrich von Hohenberg dare to say that she is Eliza Wallner, daughter of the Tyrolese Anthony Wallner-Aichberger, the innkeeper of Windisch-Matrey. I have no longer a daughter—I tear her from my heart, as she tore honor, righteousness, and faith from hers."
Eliza called two Tyrolese with an impetuous wave of her hand to her side. "Hold him," she said, pointing to Ulrich, who, pale and tottering, exhausted from his superhuman efforts and loss of blood, was scarcely able to stand on his feet; "hold him, I must speak to my father."
She hastened to him, seized both his hands despite his resistance, and drew his face so close to hers that his hot, panting breath touched her cheek; but he averted his eyes with a gloomy expression and avoided meeting her fiery glances.
"You do not want to know me, father!" she asked mournfully. "You avert your eyes from your Lizzie, whom you called only yesterday your dear, brave Tyrolese girl?"
"You are no child of mine, you are no Tyrolese girl," exclaimed her father, angrily and mournfully. "You want to marry the Bavarian, and become an aristocratic lady."
"It is all the same to me whether Ulrich yonder is an aristocratic gentleman or not," said Eliza, shaking her head proudly; "I love him only because he pleases me so well, and because he loves me so fondly and ardently. But, father, you must not say that I am no true daughter of the Tyrol, and do not love the fatherland. I will prove to all of you that I do love it; and to Ulrich yonder, who wished to persuade me to run away with him secretly, and who must marry me now to atone for it, I will prove likewise that I am no baroness although I love him, and that I do not love his king and his brilliant uniform, but that I will remain loyal to my emperor alone. Listen to me, therefore, father, and all of you: Ulrich von Hohenberg is my bridegroom, and therefore you shall not kill him, nor do him any harm, but convey him as a prisoner to my father's house, not for the purpose of being married to me, but to be kept and nursed as a wounded prisoner. I swear by the Lord God and the Holy Virgin, I will not marry him till we have conquered, till all Bavarians have been driven from the country, and the Emperor Francis is once more sovereign of the Tyrol. Nor shall I stay at home to nurse my bridegroom and speak with him of love and marriage, but I will go and fight with you for our Tyrol and our emperor. I will fight with my father and my countrymen, and prove that I am a true daughter of the Tyrol. When you have nothing to eat, I will cook for you; and when you go to fight the Bavarians, I will fight with you. My father's lame porter, our faithful Schroepfel, shall have my bridegroom in his custody, and protect him until we return to our homes. But we shall not return before our dear Tyrol is free and restored to the Emperor Francis, and then, father, when your Lizzie has bravely fought for our dear Tyrol, you will permit her to marry the man whom she loves, and you will no longer say that she is not your daughter, will you?" "No, Lizzie, then I shall no longer say or think so," cried Wallner, folding his daughter to his heart, overcome by his emotion. "Yes, you are a brave child of the Tyrol; you shall march to the field with us, and when we return to our homes, you shall marry your Bavarian. Say, my dear friends, shall it be so?"
"Yes, it shall," shouted the Tyrolese. "Her wedding shall take place when we return to our homes, and when the Tyrol is free."
"No, no," cried Ulrich, raising himself up with a last effort: "never will my father's son dishonor himself so deeply as to marry a peasant-girl—"
He said no more; a stream of blood rushed from his mouth, a mortal pallor overspread his cheeks, his eyes closed, and he sank to the ground with a groan of pain.
"He is dying! he is dying!" cried Eliza, despairingly. She rushed to him, knelt down by his side, and encircled him firmly with both her arms, so that his head reposed on her breast.
A cry, a loud, painful cry, resounded above her in the air; all eyes turned toward the balcony, but no one was there; only for a moment it seemed to them as though a female form glided through the dining- room.
"Elza, it was Elza!" murmured Eliza. "Why does she not come to me? why—" At this moment Ulrich opened his eyes again, and fixed a look of proud hatred full upon Eliza's face, which was tenderly bent over him.
"I do not love you, I detest you!" he hissed, between his firmly- compressed teeth.
"He lives, thank God, he lives!" cried Eliza; "now all is well, and I am no longer afraid of anything. Schroepfel, come here; take him on your shoulders, dear Schroepfel, or let John help you to carry him to my chamber, where you will lay him on my bed. You swear to me by the Holy Virgin that you will watch over him faithfully?"
"I swear by the Holy Virgin," said Schroepfel, lifting his heavy fists to heaven, and then fixing his small, flashing eyes on Ulrich, as a watch-dog eyes the bone he fears may be taken from him.
"And now let us settle that affair with the soldiers yonder," said Anthony Wallner, going to the windows, in front of which the sharpshooters were still drawn up in line.
"Soldiers in the rooms," he shouted in a powerful voice, "surrender! The fight is at an end; your captain is our prisoner. Surrender, or you are lost; we will set fire to the house, and shoot down whosoever jumps out of the windows. if you wish to save your lives, surrender."
One of the sergeants appeared at the window.
"We are locked up and surrounded," he said; "we have no ammunition, and our captain is a prisoner. Therefore, we will surrender if you will allow us to evacuate the castle."
"Yes, but without arms," said Anthony Wallner, imperatively. "You will all come in squads of four to the windows and hand out your carbines and side-arms. There are yet a hundred of you in the rooms. As soon as we have got a hundred carbines and a hundred sabres we shall open the portal and let you out. You may return then to Bavaria, and tell your government that no Southern Bavarians, but true Tyrolese, live in the Pusterthal, the Vintschgau, and the Passeyrthal."
"We accept your terms," replied the sergeant; "come, therefore, and receive our arms."
The Tyrolese stepped up to the windows, at each of which squads of four soldiers made their appearance, and silently and sullenly handed out their arms, which the Tyrolese took and stacked in the middle of the court-yard.
"Now I will go and see where my Elza has concealed herself," murmured Eliza to herself; and she glided hastily through the ranks of the Tyrolese into the castle.
No one was to be seen in the large hall, and, unnoticed by anybody, Eliza ascended the staircase, hastened down the corridor, and entered the dining-room.
The instinct of her heart had guided her rightly; yonder, in the most remote corner of the room, sat Elza, groaning aloud in bitter woe, her hands clasped on her knees, her head bent on her breast, and not perceiving in her agony that Eliza came in, that she hastened rapidly, yet noiselessly and on tiptoe through the room, and stood still now close in front of her.
"Why do you weep, dearest Elza?" asked Eliza, kneeling down before her friend.
Elza gave a start, and quickly raised her face, over which were rolling rivers of scalding tears. "I do not weep at all, Eliza," she said, in a low voice.
"Eliza?" she asked, wonderingly. "You call me Eliza? Then I am no longer your darling, your Lizzie? You did not assist me when I had to save your cousin Ulrich below in the court-yard? You uttered a loud cry when he lay more dead than alive in my lap, and you did not come to help him and me? And now you call me Eliza?"
"What should I have done there?" asked Elza, in a bitter, mournful tone. "He reposed well on your breast; he did not need me. I am only his cousin, but you, you are his affianced bride."
"But formerly, I suppose, Elza, he was to be your affianced bridegroom?" asked Eliza, in a low, tremulous voice. "Oh, I always thought so; I knew it all the time, although you never told me so. I always thought Elza and Ulrich would be a good match; they are suited to each other, and will love each other and be happy. Elza, Ulrich was to be your bridegroom, was he not?"
"What is the use of talking about it now?" asked Elza, vehemently. "He is YOUR bridegroom, he has sworn eternal fidelity to you, and I shall not dispute him with you. Marry him and be happy."
"And would your Lizzie be happy if her Elza were not content with her?" asked Eliza, tenderly. "Tell me only this: your father and his parents thought you were a good match—did they not?"
"Yes, they did," whispered Elza, bursting again into tears.
"My father told me yesterday that it was his wish, as well as that of Ulrich's parents."
"And Ulrich told you, too, that he loved you and would marry you? Tell me the truth, Elza. Never mind what I said in the court yard about Ulrich being my bridegroom. Remember only that I am your Lizzie, who loves you better than she can tell you, but who will prove it to you if the good God will permit her to do so. Tell me therefore, my darling, Ulrich said to you he loved you and wished to marry you?"
"No, he did not say so, Lizzie, but—but I thought so, I believe, and he thought so, too; and, O God! I believe I love him. It seemed to me as though a dagger pierced my heart when you said that he was your bridegroom. I could not hear it, and hastened into the house in order not to see and hear any thing further. I meant to seat myself quietly in the dining-room here and submit to all that might happen; and yet I was drawn irresistibly toward the balcony, and orb rushing out I saw you holding him in your lap and pressing his dear pale head to your bosom. I felt as though the heavens were falling down on me; I had to cry out aloud in my anguish and despair. I hurried back into the room, fell on my knees, and prayed that death might deliver me from my pains. O God, God! it did not; I must carry on life's dreary burden and cannot die!"
She buried her face in her hands and sobbed aloud.
While Elza was speaking, Eliza had turned paler and paler; a slight tremor passed through her whole frame, and she compressed her lips firmly, as if to restrain the cry oppressing her bosom.
Now she laid her hand gently on Elza's head. "You love him, Elza," she said mildly. "I understand your heart, dearest Elza, you love him. And now dry your tears and listen to what I have to say to you. But first you must look at me, Elza, and you must show me your dear face; otherwise I won't tell you the good news I have got for you."
Elza dropped her hands from her face, and looked, smiling amid her tears, into Eliza's countenance, which seemed now again entirely calm and serene.
"Now listen, Elza," she whispered, hurriedly; "Ulrich is not my bridegroom, and he never told me that he loved me."
Elza uttered a cry of joy, and a sunbeam seemed to illuminate her face.
"I merely said so in order to save him," added Lizzie; "that was the reason why I uttered that impudent lie, which God Almighty, I hope, will forgive me. I saw that my father was just about to hill him and my heart told me I ought to save him at all hazards. I hastened to my father, and the words escaped my lips, I myself do not know how. I said I loved him, he would marry me, and was my affianced bride- groom; and this saved him, for he was intent on dying rather than fall alive, as he said, into the hands of the peasant-rabble. That was the reason why he was so bold, abused the Tyrolese so violently, and would not cease resisting them. Therefore, I had to save him not only from my father, but from his own rage; and I did it."
"But do you not love him?" asked Elza smiling.
"Do you not know that Joseph Thurmwalder has been courting me for a year past? My father will be glad to have me marry him; for he is the son of rich parents and the most skillful and handsome hunter in the whole Puster valley."
"But you have often told me that you did not love him?"
"Have you not often told me likewise that you did not love Ulrich,
Elza? We girls are queer beings, and never say whom we love!"
"But Ulrich! He loves you! Yes, yes, I know he loves you. I have suspected it a long time, and always teased him with his attachment to you."
"And he always denied it, did he not?"
"Yes, he did, and yet—"
"And he denied it to-day too, when the lie would have saved him at once. He would die rather than be a peasant-girl's bridegroom! You see, therefore, that he does not love me, Elza. But my lie saved his life, and no one must find out that Ulrich is not my bridegroom. For if my father and his friends should discover it, they would kill him, because he insulted them too deeply to be forgiven. He must remain my bridegroom until tranquillity is re-established in the country."
"Yes, my Lizzie, my darling!" exclaimed Elza, encircling Eliza's neck with her arms; "yes, let him remain your bridegroom, my sagacious, brave Tyrolese girl. I always said and knew that you would be a heroine if you should have to meet a great danger, and to-day you WERE a heroine."
"Not yet Elza, but I shall be one. I am going to prove to my father and all his friends that I am a true daughter of the Tyrol, even though the Bavarian captain is my bridegroom. And now, farewell, dearest Elza; I must go down again to my father. But listen, I have to tell you something else yet. I shall leave our village with my father to-day. We shall march with our friends to Andreas Hofer, for the Tyrolese must concentrate their whole forces in order to be strong enough when they have to meet the enemy. Hence, it was resolved at the very outset, that, so soon as it was time for the people to rise against the Bavarians, Speckbacher and his friends, and my father with the peasants of the Puster valley, should join the men of the Passeyr valley under Hofer's command. I know that father will set out to-day, and I shall accompany him, Elza. I am not afraid of death and the enemy; I know that our cause is just, and that the good God will be on our side."
"But, nevertheless, many noble hearts will be pierced for this just cause, and yours, dearest Lizzie, may be among them," exclaimed Elza, tenderly folding her friend to her heart. "Oh, stay here, my darling, let the men fight it out alone; stay here!"
"No, Elza, I must go with them. My honor requires it, and forbids me to stay at our house with Ulrich von Hohenberg, for whose sake my father called me publicly to-day a recreant daughter of the Tyrol, and threatened to disown me forever. I must prove to all the world that I am a loyal daughter of the Tyrol; and I feel, Elza, that it will do me good to contribute my mite to the deliverance of the fatherland. I am not gentle and patient enough to sit quietly at home and wait until dear Liberty looks into my door and says to me, 'God bless you, Lizzie! I am here now. and you also may profit by the happiness which will be caused by my arrival.' No, Elza, I must go with my father, I must help him to find this dear Liberty on the mountains and in the valleys, and must say to her, 'God bless thee, Liberty! I am here now, and thou mayst profit by my strength, and I will help thee that thou mayst rule again over the mountains and valleys of our dear Tyrol.'"
"Oh, Lizzie, you are a genuine heroine!" exclaimed Elza; "I blush to think that I shall not accompany you and fight by your side for Liberty."
"You cannot," said Lizzie, gravely. "You have an aged father who will stay at home, and whom you must take care of, and the poor and sick count upon you, for they know that Elza will always be their good angel. Stay at home and pray for me. But never go down to my father's house, do not inquire for Ulrich, and do not try to have him brought to the castle here. He is under Schroepfel's surveillance, and Schroepfel would shoot him if he should suspect that all is not as it should be. But if God should decree my death, Elza, Ulrich would be free at once, and my father would not injure him, inasmuch as he was his Lizzie's affianced bridegroom. He would set him free. Ulrich would then come to you, and, Elza, you will tell him not to think that Lizzie Wallner was a bad girl, and that she was intent only on getting an aristocratic husband. You will tell him that my sole object was to save his life, and that I never thought of marrying him. You will tell him also that I forgave him the injury which he did me to-day, and that I shall pray to God Almighty for him. And when you stand before God's altar, and the priest joins your hands, think of me, and do not forget that I loved you, dearest Elza, better than any once else on earth. And now, farewell, Elza; I shall not kiss you again, for it makes my heart heavy."
"Lizzie, Lizzie!" shouted a powerful voice outside at this moment;
"Lizzie, where are you? 'Tis time to set out!"
"Here I am, dear father!" exclaimed Lizzie, stepping quickly out on the balcony. "I shall come down to you now. I was only taking leave of Elza. Now I am ready to set out and fight for the dear Tyrol and the dear Emperor Francis!"
"Hurrah, we will do so!" cried the Tyrolese. "We will fight for the dear Tyrol and the dear Emperor Francis! Hurrah! We will expel the Bavarians! Hurrah! the Austrians are coming! Hurrah! the Tyrol will be free again!"
CHAPTER XIV.
THE BRIDGE OF ST. LAWRENCE.
Anthony Wallner and his men marched all day and all night through the Puster valley, along the road to the Muhlbach pass. His daughter Eliza, and young John Panzl, his friend and sympathizer, walked by his side; and behind him marched the brave Tyrolese, whose force gained strength at every step as it advanced, and who, amidst the most enthusiastic acclamations, appointed Anthony Wallner commander- in-chief of the men of the Puster Valley, and John Panzl his lieutenant and assistant.
"I accept the position, my friends," said Wallner, taking off his hat and kindly greeting the men; "yes, I accept the position, and will be your commander, and will always lead you faithfully and honestly against the enemy. But will you always follow me? Will you not be afraid of the enemy's fire, and take to your heels before his artillery?"
"No, we will not," shouted the brave men; "we will stand by you faithfully, and fight with you for the fatherland and the emperor!"
"That is right, men," cried John Panzl, making a leap which drew loud exclamations of admiration from the Tyrolese. "I tell you it is right in you to think so, and therefore I will likewise joyfully accept the honor which you have offered to me; I will be your second commander, will always obey the orders of our brave commander-in- chief, and assist him and you in driving the enemy from our country, for the glory of God and our emperor. Ah, my dear Tyrolese, I would we could catch the French and the Boafoks at length, take them by the neck, and hurl them out of the country. I tell you, after we have done it, I shall dance so merrily with Eliza Wallner, my dear cousin, that the snowy heads of the Gross-Glockner and Venediger will become warm and melt with delight. Lizzie, we two, the most celebrated dancers of the whole Puster valley, will perform a dance in honor of our victory, will we not?"
"We will, Cousin Panzl," said Eliza, smiling. "But before dancing, we must march on and never run back."
"No, never run back," shouted the merry and courageous Tyrolese.
"Forward, then, forward!" commanded Anthony Wallner, and the whole force set out again and marched rapidly across the mountains and through the valleys; it was received everywhere with deafening cheers, and gained at every step fresh accessions of men, who rushed enthusiastically out of their buts, armed with their rifles, or other weapons, even though they had only wooden clubs, and bravely joined the defenders of the country.
Already they approached their destination; in the expansive valley below, yonder, lay the town of Brunecken, surmounted by Castle Bruneck and other ancient and decaying feudal castles; and behind it, on the way down toward Brixen, in the narrower gorge, bordered on both sides by precipitous mountains, through which the Rienz hurls its foaming waters, they beheld already the small town of St. Lawrence. After reaching St. Lawrence they had only an hour's march to the Muhlbach pass, which, in accordance with Andreas Hofer's orders, the brave men of the Puster valley were to occupy and defend against the enemy moving up from Botzen.
But all at once, right in the midst of the march, Anthony Wallner stood still, and, turning to Panzl, who was walking by the side of the column, gave him a sign to halt. The whole column stopped and listened.
Yes, there was no doubt about it, that was the rattle of musketry at a distance! And now they heard also the loud booming of artillery, and the ringing of the tocsin at Brunecken and St. Lawrence.
"Now forward, Tyrolese, forward!" shouted Anthony Wallner. "At the double-quick down to Brunecken!"
"Forward!" shouted the men; and their exclamations were echoed joyously by the women who had courageously accompanied their husbands, and who were ready, like them, to fight for their country and their emperor.
They marched with great speed down the Brunecken. The whole town was in the utmost commotion. Young and old men, women, children—all were hurrying toward the gate leading to St. Lawrence.
"What is the matter?" shouted Anthony Wallner, grasping the arm of an old man, who, armed with a pitchfork, was speeding along at a furious rate.
"What is the matter?" echoed the old man, endeavoring to disengage his arm from Wallner's powerful grasp. "The matter is, that the insurrection has broken out at length. The Bavarians are bent on destroying the bridge of St. Lawrence, in order to prevent the Austrians from crossing it. The whole military detachment left our place some time ago for the bridge, and sappers and miners, who are to blow it up, have arrived this morning from Brixen. But we will not allow them to do it. They must shoot us all before we permit them to destroy the bridge."
"No, we will not!" cried Anthony Wallner. "Forward, men of the
Puster valley, forward to the bridge of St. Lawrence!"
They continued their march through the valley at the double-quick. They heard the rattle of musketry and the booming of artillery more and more distinctly, and now, at a bend in the valley, the most wonderful and striking spectacle presented itself to their eyes.
Yonder at a distance lay the well-known bridge, composed of a single arch, between tremendous rocks; by its side stood two battalions of Bavarian infantry in serried ranks, and on a knoll, close to the bank of the river Rienz, had been planted three cannon pointed menacingly both against the bridge and the people who were moving up to it in denser and denser masses. Captains and other officers were galloping up and down in front of the Bavarians, and encouraging their men to attack these insurgents who were coming up behind, in front, and on both sides of them. The courageous sons of the Tyrol rushed down from all the heights, the tocsin of Brunecken and St. Lawrence had not called them in vain. They came down the mountains and up the valley; they came, men and women, old men and children; and all were armed: he who did not possess a gun had a flail, a pitchfork, or a club. Like a broad, motley river, the crowd was surging up from all sides, and at the head and in the midst of the war-like groups were to be seen priests in holy vestments, holding aloft the crucifix, blessing the defenders of the country with fervent, pious words, and uttering scathing imprecations against the enemy.
And amidst this commotion thundered the field-pieces, whose balls crashed again and again against the bridge; the bells were tolled in the church-steeples, and the musketry of the Bavarians rattled incessantly. But few of their bullets hit their aim. The Tyrolese were too remote from them, and only occasionally a loud scream indicated that a half-spent bullet had found its way into the breast of a Tyrolese.
More fatal and unerring were the bullets of the Tyrolese sharpshooters, who bad concealed themselves on the heights on both sides of the valley, and fired from their hiding-places at the Bavarians, never missing their aim and picking off a soldier by every shot they discharged.
Anthony Wallner comprehended the whole situation at a glance. "Boys!" he shouted, in a ringing voice, "we must take the cannon. We must not permit the enemy to destroy the bridge which the Austrians are to cross. Let us attack the Bavarians! We must take the cannon!"
"Yes!" shouted the men, "we must take the cannon!"
And the shouts reached another troop of armed peasants, who repeated it with tumultuous enthusiasm, and soon the men on the heights and in the valley cried, "We must take the cannon!"
Anthony Wallner gave the signal to his sharpshooters, and moved with them into a small forest extending up the mountain near the cannon. The courageous men disappeared soon in the thicket, and, as if in accordance with a general agreement, the other Tyrolese likewise entered the forest. Below, in the valley, knelt the women and children, and before them stood the priests with their crucifixes, protecting them therewith, as it were, from the enemy who was posted on the other side of the valley, and whose ranks were thinned more and more by the bullets of the Tyrolese.
All at once, on the height above the cannon, where there was a clearing, and where the rocks were moss-grown and bare, the Tyrolese were seen rushing in dense masses from the forest. They were headed by Anthony Wallner and John Panzl. Each of them jumped on a projection of the rocks and raised his rifle. They fired, and two gunners fell mortally wounded near the cannon.
The Tyrolese greeted this exploit of their leaders with loud cheers; but up from the Bavarians resounded the commands of the officers; a whole volley crashed, the bullets whistled round the ears of Wallner and Panzl, but none hit them; and hen the smoke cleared away, John Panzl was seen to make a triumphant leap in the air, which he accompanied with a shout of victory, while Anthony Wallner calmly raised his rifle again. He fired, and the gunner at the third field- piece fell dead.
"Now, boys, at them; we must take the cannon!" shouted Wallner, jumping forward, and the Tyrolese followed him down the slope with furious shouts.
"Forward, forward!" shouted the Lieutenant-Colonel in the valley to his Bavarians; "forward! the cannon must not fall into the hands of the peasants; we must defend them to the last man. Therefore, forward at the double-quick!"
And the Bavarians rushed forward up the slope.
But the Tyrolese had already succeeded in shooting or knocking down all the gunners, and taken possession of the cannon. While Anthony Wallner, at the head of a furious detachment of his men, hastened to meet the approaching Bavarians, and hurled death and destruction into their ranks, John Panzl remained with the others to defend the guns.
A furious hand-to-hand fight now arose; the Bavarians were repulsed again and again by the Tyrolese, and the sharp-shooters, posted behind the trees and rocks, assisted their fighting brethren with their rifles, which, aimed steadily, never missed their man. But the Bavarians. who were drawn up farther down in the valley, likewise endeavored to assist their struggling comrades: but the bullets which they fired up the hill frequently struck into the ranks of their countrymen, and not into those of the Tyrolese. Often, on the other hand, these bullets did not miss their aim, but carried wounds and death into the midst of the insurgents. Whenever this occurred a young woman was seen to rush amidst the deadliest shower of bullets into the ranks of the fighting men, lift up the fallen brave, and carry him in her strong arms out of the thickest of the fight to the quiet spot on the edge of the forest, which a protruding rock protected from the bullets of the enemy.
This young woman was Eliza Wallner. Behind the rock she had established a sort of field hospital; a few women and girls had assembled around her there, and taken upon themselves the sacred care for the wounded, while two priests had joined them to administer extreme unction to the dying. But Eliza Wallner had reserved the most difficult and dangerous part of this work of love for herself. She alone was courageous enough to plunge into the thickest of the fight to remove the fallen brethren; she alone was strong enough to carry them to the quiet asylum, and it was only the joyous enthusiasm inspired by the consciousness of doing good that imparted this strength to her. Her eyes were radiant, her cheeks were flushed, and the face of the young girl, formerly so rosy and serene, exhibited now the transparent paleness, and grave, proud calmness which only great resolves and sublime moments impart to the human countenance.
And the women followed her example with joyous zeal; they washed the wounds of the brave Tyrolese with water fetched from the neighboring spring, tore their handkerchiefs and dresses to make the necessary bandages of them, and closed, with tears of devout compassion, the eyes of those who gave up the ghost amid the blessings of the priests.
From these pious works of charity the women were suddenly aroused by the loud cheers of the Tyrolese. Eliza sprang forth from behind the rock to see what was the matter. Renewed and still louder cheers resounded, for the victory was gained. Anthony Wallner and his men had attained their object. They had succeeded in hurling the three field-pieces from the height into the Rienz, which was rolling along far below in its rocky bed. The earth was shaking yet from the terrific crash, and echo was resounding still with the thundering noise with which the field-pieces had fallen into the Rienz, whose waters had hurled their foaming spray into the air, and were rolling now with an angry roar over the sunken cannon.
This exploit, which excited the transports of the Tyrolese, exerted a contrary effect upon the Bavarians. They had lost their artillery, and with it the means of blowing up the bridge; and now they stood before the enemy uncovered and almost defenceless. In obedience to a loud command uttered by Anthony Wallner, the Tyrolese returned quickly into the forest, and, hidden behind trees and rocks, hit a Bavarian with every bullet, while the Bavarians vainly fired at the well-concealed enemy.
The commander of the Bavarians, Lieutenant-Colonel Wreden, perceiving the danger and uselessness of a continuance of the struggle, ordered his troops to retreat; and no sooner had the Bavarians received this longed-for order, than they fell back at the double-quick from the bridge and took the road to Sterzing.
This retreat of the enemy was greeted by the renewed cheers which Eliza Wallner had heard; and, both laughing and weeping for joy, she hastened to fold her father to her heart, and thank God that no bullet had hit him.
Wallner embraced her tenderly, and imprinted a kiss on her forehead.
"You have behaved very bravely, Lizzie," he said; "I saw how you carried our poor brethren out of the thickest of the fight. My heart was proud of you, and I should not have wept to-day even though you had fallen in the sacred service of the fatherland. But I thank God that nothing has happened to you, and I beseech you, dearest Lizzie, do not accompany us any farther. I now believe again in you, and I know that you are a true daughter of the Tyrol, although you unfortunately love a Bavarian. Therefore go home; for it is no woman's work that is in store for us; we have a hard struggle before us, and a great deal of blood will be shed before we have driven the mean Bavarians and the accursed French from our beloved country."
"No, father, I shall stay with you," exclaimed Eliza, with eager determination. "I am not able to sit at home and spin and pray when my father is fighting for the country. Mother can attend alone to our household affairs, and Schroepfel will assist her; but you cannot attend alone to the hard work here, and I will help you, dearest father. I will be the doctor and surgeon of your men until you have found a better and more skilful physician. You must not reject me, dearest father, for you would commit wrong against the poor wounded who have no other assistance than what they receive at my hands and at those of the women whom I beg and persuade to help me."
"You are right, Lizzie; it would be wrong in me to send you home and not permit you to assist and nurse the wounded," said her father, gravely. "May God and the Holy Virgin help and protect you! I devote you to the fatherland to which I devote myself."
He kissed her once more, and then turned to the Tyrolese, who, encamped in groups on the edge of the forest, and reposing from the struggle, were partaking of the bread and meat which they had brought along in their haversacks.
"Brethren," exclaimed Anthony Wallner, in a powerful voice, "now let us be up and doing! We must cut off the enemy's retreat to Sterzing. We must also occupy the Muhlbach pass, as Andreas Hofer ordered us to do in the Archduke John's name. The enemy has set out thither, and if he gets before us through the gap of Brixen and reaches the bridge of Laditch, we shall be unable to prevent him from passing through the Muhlbach pass and marching to Sterzing. Hence, we are not at liberty to repose now, but must advance rapidly. One detachment of our men, commanded by my Lieutenant Panzl, will push on quickly on the mountain-road to the Muhlbach pass. The rest of us will follow you, but we must previously detain the enemy at the gap of Brixen; and while we are doing duty, another detachment of our men will go farther down to the bridge of Laditch and destroy it in order to prevent the enemy from crossing the Eisach. Forward, my friends! Forward to the gap of Brixen! We must roll down trees, detach large fragments from the rocks, and hurl them down on the enemy; we must fire at them from the heights with deadly certainty, and every bullet must hit its man. Forward! forward! To the bridge of Laditch!"
"Yes, yes!" exclaimed the Tyrolese, with enthusiastic courage.
"Forward to the bridge of Laditch!"
CHAPTER XV.
THE BRIDGE OF LADITCH.
Night had at length brought some repose to the exhausted Bavarians. At no great distance from the gap of Brixen they had halted late in the evening, and encamped on the bare ground in the valley below. The green turf was their bed, a stone their pillow; nevertheless, they had been able to enjoy a few hours of peaceful slumber, for they were familiar with the habits of the Tyrolese; they knew that they never undertook any thing, not even a hunting-excursion, in the dead of night, and that they had nothing to fear from them until sunrise.
But now the first streaks of dawn illuminated the sky; it was time, therefore, to continue the march. Lieutenant-Colonel von Wreden rose from the couch which the soldiers had prepared for him of moss and branches, and reviewed, accompanied by his officers, his small force, which began sullenly and silently to form in line. A cloud darkened Wreden's face when, marching through the ranks, he counted the number of his soldiers. He had arrived yesterday at the bridge of St. Lawrence with nearly four hundred men; scarcely one-half of them were left now; the other half lay slain at the bridge of St. Lawrence, or, exhausted by the loss of blood and by the pains of gaping wounds, had sunk down on the road and been unable to continue the march.
"And these poor men will likewise be killed to-day unless speedy succor comes," murmured the Lieutenant-Colonel to himself; "we are all lost if the miserable rabble of peasants reach the gap of Brixen before us. We are all lost, for we shall be entirely cut off from our friends and surrounded by our enemies, who are able to avail themselves of their mountain fastnesses and hiding-places, while we must march through the valley and across the open plain. But all these complaints are useless. We must do our duty! The soldier's life belongs to his oath and his king; and if he falls in the service, he has done his duty."
And with strong determination and bold courage the lieutenant- colonel threw back his head, and fixed his eye steadfastly on his soldiers.
"Forward," he shouted, "forward, boys! Forward against these miserable peasants, who have violated the faith they plighted to our king. Forward! forward!"
The column, headed by Lieutenant-Colonel von Wreden, commenced moving. His eyes glanced anxiously over the plain now opening before them. Suddenly they are riveted on a point yonder on the mountain- road leading southward to Italy. What is that? Does it not flash there like a mass of bayonets? Does it not look as though a brilliant serpent, glittering in blue, red, and gold, were moving along the road? It draws nearer and nearer, and the Lieutenant- Colonel is able to distinguish its parts. Yes, these parts are soldiers; this serpent consists of regiments marching along in serried ranks.
Lieutenant-Colonel von Wreden uttered a cry of joy and galloped forward. Already he discerned distinctly the uniforms of the staff- officers riding at the bead of the column. They were friends; they were French soldiers headed by General Bisson.
Wreden galloped forward to salute the general and communicate to him in brief, winged words his own disaster and his apprehensions regarding the immediate future.
"Well, you have nothing to fear now," said General Bisson, with a pleasant and proud smile. "It was no accident, but a decree of Fate, that caused us to meet here. I was ordered by my emperor to march with a column of four thousand men from Mantua to Ratisbon, and I am now on the road to the latter place. Hence, our route leads us through the gap of Brixen, and as a matter of course you will join us with your troops. I hope our united forces will succeed in routing these miserable peasants!"
"Yes, if we could meet them in the open plain," sighed Lieutenant- Colonel von Wreden. "But in their mountains and gorges our thousands will vainly struggle against their hundreds. The bulwarks of their mountains protect them."
"We shall drive them from these bulwarks." said General Bisson, haughtily. "But I believe the rabble will not even wait for this, but take to their heels as soon as they see the head of my column. Therefore, join my regiments, lieutenant-colonel, and let us march fearlessly through the gap of Brixen."
Half an hour afterward they had reached the dark and awe-inspiring gap of Brixen; and the united Bavarian and French troops marched with a measured step along the narrow road, on both sides of which rose steep gray rocks, covered here and there with small pine forests, and then again exhibiting their naked, moss-grown walls, crowned above with their snowy summits glistening like burnished silver in the morning sun.
The column under General Bisson penetrated deeper and deeper into the gorge. Enormous rocks now closed the road in their front and rear. A profound, awful stillness surrounded them; only here and there they heard the rustling of a cascade falling down from the mountains with silvery spray, and flowing finally as a murmuring rivulet through the valley; now and then they heard also the hoarse croaking of some bird of prey soaring in the air, otherwise, all was still.
General Bisson, who was riding in the middle of his column, turned smilingly to Lieutenant-Colonel Wreden "Did I not tell you, my dear Lieutenant-Colonel ," he said, "that these miserable peasants would take to their heels so soon as our column came in sight? They were, perhaps, able to cope with your few hundred men, but my four thousand men—"
The loud crash of a rifle interrupted his sentence; a second, third, and fourth report followed in rapid succession. The heights seemed all at once to bristle with enemies. Like an enormous man-of-war, lying at first calm and peaceful, and then opening her port-holes, these gray rocks seemed suddenly to open all their port-holes and pour out death and destruction.
From the rock in front yonder, from the steep mountains on both sides, from the precipitous hill jutting out in their rear and closing the gloomy gorge, rifle shots rattled down with unerring aim; every bullet hit its man, every bullet struck down a soldier in the ranks of the Bavarians and French; then were heard the triumphant cheers of the Tyrolese, who, for a moment, stepped forth from their safe hiding-places, danced on the rocks, jeered at the enemy with loud, scornful words, and disappeared again so quickly, that the bullets which the soldiers fired at them glanced harmlessly from the flanks of the rocks.
But the Tyrolese fought not with their rifles alone against the enemy marching through the deep and awful gorge. Nature had prepared other means of defence for them; it had given them trees and rocks. They hurled the trees, which the storms had felled years ago, and which fragments of rock had held on the brink of the precipice, into the depth of the gorge; they detached large fragments from the rocks, and rolled them down on the soldiers, many of whom were crushed by these terrible missiles. And when these trees and rocks fell into the depth, and spread death and confusion in the ranks of the soldiers, the Tyrolese profited by this moment to aim and strike down additional victims by their rifle-bullets.
And there was no escape for these poor soldiers, who, exposed to the fury of their enemies, did not even enjoy the consolation of wreaking vengeance upon them. In silent despair, and shedding tears of rage, the French and Bavarians continued their march; the corpses of their brethren, which the rear-guard met on the horrible road, could not detain them; they bad to pass over them, and abstain even from coming to the assistance of their dying friends; crushed under their feet, the latter had to give up the ghost.
At length the gorge widens before them; the rocks in front recede on both sides, and a bright, expansive plain opens to their view. The soldiers greet this prospect with loud cheers of delight, which their officers dare not repress in the name of discipline; for, on emerging from an open grave, a soldier feels like a human being, and thanks God for the preservation of his life. Hundreds had fallen, but several thousands were left, and their ardent rage, their fiery revengefulness longed for the struggle in which they might avenge their fallen comrades. And Fate seemed intent on fulfilling their wishes. Yonder, at the extremity of the plain through which the soldiers were now marching; yonder, on the bank of the Eisach, was seen a motley crowd ascending the slopes of the mountains on both sides of the river.
"Yes, there are the Tyrolese, there are our enemies," cried the Bavarians and French, with grim satisfaction; and they marched at the double-quick toward the bank of the river.
"The peasants, I believe, intend to prevent us from crossing the river," said General Bisson, with a contemptuous shrug. "They have taken position in front of the bridge of Laditch, and so closely that I can see nothing of it," replied Lieutenant-Colonel von Wreden. Suddenly he uttered a cry of surprise, and looked steadfastly toward the extremity of the valley, where the rocks jutted out again into it, and where the furious Eisach makes a sudden bend from one side of the valley to the other. Formerly there had risen here, between tremendous rocks, the majestic arch of the bridge of Laditch. For many centuries past this wonderful arch had spanned the abyss; it was a monument dating from the era of the ancient Romans, and Caesar himself, perhaps, had crossed this bridge on his march against the free nations of the North. But now this arch had disappeared, or rather its central part had been removed, and between its two extremities yawned a terrible abyss, through which the Eisach rushed with thundering noise.
"The Tyrolese have destroyed the bridge!" exclaimed Von Wreden, in dismay.
"Ah, the brigands!" said Bisson, contemptuously. "It will, therefore, be necessary for us to construct a temporary bridge in order to get over to the other side."
Yes, the Tyrolese had destroyed the bridge of Laditch; and while a small division of their men had quickly moved on to occupy the Muhlbach pass, the others, under the command of Anthony Wallner, had taken position on the opposite bank of the Eisach, in order to prevent the enemy from crossing the river. All the men from the neighboring village of Laditch had joined the forces of Anthony Wallner, and on the mountains stood the sharpshooters from the villages far and near, called out by the tocsin, and ready to dispute every inch of the beloved soil with the enemy.
The columns of the Bavarians and French approached, and shots were exchanged on both sides. "Forward!" shouted Anthony Wallner, and he advanced with his brave men to the Puster valley, close to the bridge upon which the enemy was moving up.
The bullets whistled around him, but he paid no attention to them; he saw only the enemy, and not the dangers menacing him. But the other Tyrolese saw them only too well. Up in the mountains they were brave and resolute; but in the plain, where they were on equal ground with the enemy they felt ill at ease and anxious. Moreover, the odds of the enemy were truly formidable, not only in numbers but also in arms. Only a part of the Tyrolese were provided with rifles and muskets; more than half of them were armed only with flails, pitchforks, and clubs. The soldiers had not only their muskets, but also field-pieces, whose balls thundered now across the plain and carried death into the ranks of the Tyrolese.
Terror and dismay seized the sharpshooters; they turned and began to flee into the mountains. But an unexpected obstacle obstructed their path. A number of intrepid women, who had flocked to the scene from the neighboring villages, met them at this moment. They received the fugitives with threatening invectives; they drove them back with uplifted arms, with flaming eyes, with imprecations, and scornful laughter, down the slope, regardless of the bullets whistling around them, and of the enemy moving up closer and closer to them. The fugitives are obliged to turn and plunge once more into the struggle, which becomes more and more furious. Yonder, close to the fragments of the bridge, stand the Tyrolese; here, near the fragments on this side of the river, are the soldiers and the French engineers advancing to construct a temporary bridge across the chasm, and thereby unite again the disrupted ends of the ancient Roman structure.
The fire of the Tyrolese becomes weaker; loud lamentations burst from their ranks. They are exhausted and weary, owing to the heavy exertions of the day; hunger and thirst torment them, and their strength is gone.
"Give us something to eat! Give us something to drink!" they shout to the women occupying the mountain-path in their rear up to the solitary house, the inn Zur Eisach, which has already been hit by many a ball from the enemy's guns.
"Courage, brethren, courage!" shouted Eliza Wallner. "I will bring you refreshments."
And, like a gazelle, she hastens up the hillside, skipping from rock to rock until she reaches the battered house. The bullets whistle around her, but she laughs at them, and does not even turn to vouchsafe a glance at the danger. She leaps on courageously; now she reaches the house, she disappears through the door, and no sooner has she entered than a cannonball strikes the wall right above the door. After a very brief space of time, Eliza Wallner reappears in the door. On her head she carries a keg, which she supports with both her uplifted arms. With a serene glance, with rosy cheeks and smiling lips, a charming picture of grace, loveliness, and courageous innocence, she descends the mountain-path again, and even the bullets of the enemy respect her; they whistle past her on both sides, but do not hit her. Eliza hastens down the slope, and now she reaches the bridge, and arrives where are posted the Tyrolese, who receive the courageous girl with deafening cheers.