The sun was setting and still Felix remained on the topmost boards of his scaffolding, to examine the cornice and the cracks in the walls which appeared to require filling up. At the midday meal he had heard that Erast's daughter had returned home, and who knows whether this news had not brought back to his memory the most perilous portion of his undertaking. At all events, whilst he was examining the pilasters, consoles and figures, the remembrance of the fair maiden at the Stift came back to his recollection more than once. Two hundred feet above ground, standing on a narrow plank, he looked straight in the face of the grave Serapis, then he passed his hand over his eyes, and bethought him that this was not a good place for a reverie, and shaking his head, said: "If I make a false step to-day, and come to the same end as did Phaëton, no one but the fair Klytia is to blame, for whosoever has once seen this maiden's sweet smile, will be haunted by the remembrance of the dimple in her cheeks, even if he ascends as high up as to the planetary Deities. Those old gentlemen have some knowledge of these matters." As he was preparing to come down, he recognised the fair maiden of whom he was thinking, standing in person before him close to the window.
Klytia had in reality returned from the convent to the home of her father, and had curled up her little nose in no small degree when she perceived the scaffolding before her window and the dust in her room. In spite of the sad recollections of that day in the Stift she felt lonely at home. Even the farewell she took of the good Abbess was more painful than she had thought it could be, and her anger against her companions quite disappeared when they wished her good-bye amidst kisses and good-humored jokes. She sat at her high window and gazed through the scaffolding in a dreamy manner at the distant Rhine valley. The Neckar flowed like a silver thread through the plain, whose fields were white for the harvest; in the distance the blue Haardt mountains were to be seen, the blossoming acacias on the slopes of the Jettenbühl filled the air with perfume, and to the right and left the flowering chestnuts dotted as if with a white powder the dark-green woods. Around the Heiligengeist the closely built houses seemed like sheep surrounding their shepherd, and the two towers on the bridge standing on either side of the river seemed hospitably to invite the inhabitants to cross over. It was the same lovely picture which had formerly so delighted her, but now it possessed no longer this charm; her joyous heart had remained behind in the convent, and her entranced glance lingered on the tower of the bridge as if through this gate all her happiness--passed in or out she knew not which. As she now sat at her window over her work, she felt what was lost to her: "If my mother were but still alive," she thought, and a tear dropped from under her eye-lashes. However much she loved her grave father she could not confide her feelings to him. She had been shamefully deceived. The man, whom she had deified as the best on earth, had proved himself to be a wicked angel in the garb of a good shepherd, and the insult which he had offered her, had sorely stricken her maiden heart. What did it avail, that she had bonam conscientiam, as the good Abbess was wont to say, it seemed nevertheless to her as if she had done some wrong in suffering a hypocrite to have so much influence over her, and as she thought of the terrible moment after the evening exercitia in the Chapel, the blood flew to her cheeks, and she bent over her work while indignation and shame struggled within her. Whilst thus deeply wrapped up in thought and painful reminiscences she was startled from her work by seeing the shadow of a man passing close to the window on the scaffolding. She was so accustomed to live here in profound solitude, that she rose up terrified, as at the most did a sparrow fly against the window or a pigeon settle on the coping. The head of the man was above the window so that she could only see up to his shoulders. A man at such a moment would have thought how shall I rouse the house; a woman would have feared lest the poor young man should fall from his narrow plank into the depths beneath. Lydia was still too much of a child for either, and as the first fright passed away, she was filled with curiosity to see the head appertaining to those young feet. A sudden presentiment shot through her mind. It seemed to her as if she saw them wandering over the meadows of the convent and treading upon certain blue flowers. Quickly did she spring up to shut the window; but Master Felice had already recognised her: "Ah! so you are back, noble maiden?" said he cheerily. "I greet you from my airy height."
"You will fall," said Klytia anxiously, "please finish your work, it makes me giddy."
"Oh, here I feel as comfortable as does the ant when swinging on a pine-cone. How fresh the air is! Allow me to sit down." And he leant his back against a beam, nursing one of his knees between his hands, while the other leg swung backward and forward over the scaffold.
"Have you much to do in this dangerous situation?" asked Klytia, who in her terror had almost begged him to get down through her window.
"A pretty good deal," replied the architect laughing, "I must cobble Serapis' boots, Jupiter's eagle will be minus a tail if I do not treat him to a little mortar, Cupid is in danger of losing his head, for which you are perhaps responsible, Faith and Hope are in pretty good condition, but Charity has lost her nose, and Samson must have a new jawbone of an ass. You see, that you could hardly remain in this Schloss without me."
"Do go, how can you joke in such danger."
"By the eyes of the Madonna, I do not joke. Do you wish for a Cupid without a head, and a Charity without a nose?"
"I do not wish to have anything to do with either, but so that I may not keep you any longer in your break-neck position, permit me to shut the window."
"No, as you have asked for permission, that I cannot suffer. Rather give me a more gracious farewell, by telling me at what hour evening service begins in the Castle-Chapel? I should much like to hear my brother preach, as he has become so sparing of his words since he has come over to you."
"Magister Laurenzano preaches?" asked Klytia terrified, her heart seeming to stop.
"Yes," replied Felix smiling, "and do you know when?"
"Evening service begins at six," said Klytia shortly, "and I hope you may get down in safety," and with hasty trembling hands she closed her window. Felix looked after her in astonishment, and then shaking his head he began his journey downwards lost in thought. Klytia had hastened to a back room, as if she felt there better protected from her own thoughts. She arranged the room, but soon forgot where she had placed the different articles, so that she had to look for them again. Sad and discontented she sat down once more to her work. The little room felt close, for the rays of the setting sun poured into it. She re-opened the window. Outside all was still and Felix had taken away the ladders, so she felt secure from intrusion. With beating heart she took up her work. Never again would she see the man, who though bound down by dark vows had nevertheless sought her love. Soon the first among the worshippers came out of the doors of the Castle which led across to the Chapel. Her female friends looked up at her to see whether she would not join them. She drew back into the room. The bells began to chime. It was the only church music, which the Kurfürst permitted "for the nonce" as he said, even the organ had to give way to the general reformation. Klytia heard the booming tones with heavy heart, it seemed as if they tolled for a funeral, whether her own, or his, she knew not. When the bells ceased, and all around was silent in the large court, a sudden shiver passed over her, it took away her breath, she felt she must hasten into the air. Outside she heard the singing, and as in a dream she took her hood and cloak, and prayerbook in hand, she as if drawn in against her will, entered into the house of God in which preached this terrible man, and crept into the last row near the door where she hoped to remain concealed from his diabolical gaze. Was it the magic of the bells, that had drawn her thither, had the Psalms possessed that power, or had she gone to seek him, from whose eyes she sought to shield herself by hiding behind the pillar? The clergyman ascended the pulpit and read out the prayers. As Felix after a while looked in the direction where sat Klytia he noticed that she had moved more forward in her seat, and now endeavoured to catch Master Paul's eye.
Felix looked around the lofty Chapel in an absent and disgusted manner. Was this the celebrated Church of the Heidelberg castle, the wealthiest at that time of all the Rhenish provinces? The high gothic arches had been whitewashed, the paintings ruthlessly daubed over disclosed themselves, however, here and there to the practised eye of the artist. A large spot at the entrance marked the place, where the font had once stood, another in the chancel the broken down altar. Without any regard to the architecture of the building the benches had been grouped in a square, in the middle of which stood, a most ludicrous object to Felix, "the honorable table." A part of the congregation turned their backs to the chancel which remained unused without Altar or Crucifix. The colored windows had been replaced by plain glass, and angrily did Felix gaze through those at the blue sky, as he asked himself what could have become of the famed glass paintings, to restore which known Masters had spent great portions of their lives? Even the old Heidelberg school of singing, which had once possessed a building of its own at the foot of the Schlossberg had disappeared. The people shouted in chorus, as appeared best to each individually. When the singing was over, the Preacher read out his text in a soft, melodious voice and laid the book aside with a graceful motion. Then he passed his white hand over his pale lips and began his sermon. His silvery melodious tones rang through the Church, at times like the monotonous melancholy murmur of a fountain, at other times rising to the majestic roll of thunder, but in the midst of the loudest blast of this rhetorical hurricane, the voice suddenly once more assumed a low loving tone which doubly touched the heart. These homiletic sounds moved Felix in no sense. He looked at the disposition of the benches, he thought to himself, how otherwise they would have looked if dimly lighted by the colored windows of the chancel filled with the smoke of incense, buried in the shadows of dark side chapels and the semi-light of deep niches. Gradually he mastered his indignation sufficiently to turn his attention to the words of the Preacher, who moved about the pulpit with the confidence of a trained orator and the innate grace of an Italian. He had bent over the edge of the pulpit, the white ruff stood up, and he resembled with his outstretched arms a bird about to take its flight. In speaking colors he described the dangers of life, the dependency of the defenceless heart. A world of despondency lay in his mournful tones. "Nowhere a consolation or support, not in ourselves for the heart is a hardened, deceitful, unreliable thing; not in others, for they are like unto ourselves; not in the world in general, for it belongs not to the good, but to the wicked. Where then is a refuge, salvation, a sure foundation on which we may depend?" A pause aroused the expectations and gave the oppressed hearts time to become conscious of their own anguish. Then the Preacher continued with a movement of the hand, which showed how near the blessing was at hand. "Behold the Church, thy mother, thy guide, thy protector and consoler under all difficulties."
Felix out of humor looked about him. "We all know how that is done," thought he. He again watched the congregation. The few men were heedless, the children restless, but the women hung with all the more attention on the lips of the young orator. When Felix again listened his brother was depicting the punishment of the other world. "They will be tortured through all eternity, says the Scriptures. How long is an eternity?" he then asked with as steady a look at his congregation as if he required of them a positive answer. "Let us suppose that this high lofty mountain lying towards the east, be made of polished steel and that every thousand years a bird came and pecked with its little beak this steel mountain and then flew away. How many thousands of years would it require ere the mountain was pecked to pieces? Or let us suppose that a large lake stretches from these hills here to yonder Haardt mountains, and that every thousand years a gnat came and sucked up through its little trunk as much water as it required to still its thirst, how many thousands of years would this little insect require to suck up the whole lake? When the bird has picked away the mountain, and the gnat drunk up the lake, that will not even be a millioneth part of an eternity, the Scripture however says: they will be tortured throughout all eternity."
"Humbug," murmured Felix to himself and for the first time in his life he felt a sort of repugnance towards his brother, for whom he usually had had only the tender feelings of a friend and father; he looked up with a sort of displeasure at the tall young figure which with bowed knee almost disappeared within the pulpit, then again rose up quickly with outstretched arms, and sank backwards as if he had been stricken to the heart with a deadly blow, only to repeat once again with uplifted hand "Only the Church, preaching, and the word."
"That comes from having done away with organ, colored windows, and male choirs, they must crack up with immoderate praise the excellency of wares for which no mouth now waters, whilst in the Church, as we adorn it, the heart draws up men with it." As finally the speaker with a thorough knowledge of his subject produced a final homiletic storm, and the entire fullness of his voice reached its highest developement, Felix awaited his Amen with impatience and when the congregation after a song of praise left the Church without the usual organ accompaniment, but amidst the hasty trot and shuffling of the school-children and the loud remarks of the men, the Italian felt himself colder and less satisfied than at any time when leaving after Vespers.
As he came out of the door of the Church into the court filled with the rays of an evening sun, his look fell at once upon the tall figure of the Counsellor Erast who was waiting for his daughter. He wished to pass on with a polite bow, but Erast stopped him with the friendly inquiry as to how the reformed service had pleased the Papist. "Monotonous melodies badly sung," said the Italian evasively. He felt he was not called upon to preach the gospel to the heathen. But the Counsellor was in his own waters. "Ah so," said he, "you do not know our musical canon. We observe Calvin's Institutio in this matter. 'Attention is to be paid', says the Genevese teacher, 'that the ear does not strive more after the melody than the spirit after the meaning of the words. Songs, which are calculated only to produce a pleasing impression and to delight the ear are not suitable to the Majesty of the Church and must be displeasing to God.'"
"Quite the contrary," answered the Italian dryly, "if the Almighty only possesses the slightest ear for music, he will exclude these people from the celestial choirs if only on account of their inharmonious shrieks. The singing is only fit for Hell."
Erast laughed. "And the Magister's sermon, did that find grace in your sensitive ears?"
"Had the House of God been left as our forefathers built it," said Felix, "no excessive oratory would be needed to lead souls to God."
"We are accustomed to be edified by the word, not by pictures, symbols, and all kinds of singsong," rejoined Erast smiling.
"By the word," cried Felix angrily. "Do you then believe that the chanted word is not the word of God? And the question remains still the same whether the Maestro of Palestrina does not rather disclose to me the meaning of the word and imprints it deeper in my heart, or whether Parson Neuser, Suter, or whatever these gentlemen are called whom I lately met sitting round the table at the Hirsch do so. Perhaps you also have seen at St. Mark's in Florence the picture by Fra Angelico of the two disciples inviting the Saviour disguised as a pilgrim to tarry with them, for the day is far spent and night is at hand. You could hear many sermons on the disciples at Emmaus from your celebrated Church divines before obtaining a conception of the text, which Fiesole places before you in so impressive a manner. He who has seen the look of the Saviour in that picture, will be accompanied through life by this look, as by the best text out of the Bible."
"I also have spent many a profitable hour in your churches," said Erast, "but I have remarked how the best pictures as well as the worst are reverenced by the people as idols, and the worship of the only true God is lessened thereby. I know the picture in San Marco well, and as you state, no one who has seen the gentle features of the Master and his disciples can forget them. I have seen however other pictures, which I can just as little forget. As for instance the horrible Sebastian, Roche and Mark in the hospital at Venice. When the Lazareth fever broke out in consequence of the filthy management, it was not combated by fresh air, pure water and lime, as we do it, but new lights were lit to the three Patron Saints. If nevertheless people died, then the Saints were insulted, spat upon, beaten, then everything was held to be done. No one thought of practical earthly measures. That is a consequence of mixing religion and art together. For this cause did I move no hand, when all the pictures here were done away with, although I felt grieved for many a work of art." The Italian perceived well the seed of truth which lay in these words, but he was as horrified at the heretical sentiment as if the claw of Satan had laid hold of him. He made the sign of the cross, and remarking, that Erast smiled contemptuously took up the discussion excitedly.
"The people ever remains the people," said he sharply. "Since they no longer seek help from images, they do believe the more in witches and magic in the which God's worship acquires nothing. You cannot be ignorant of the fact that in the small Geneva, Calvin has burnt more magicians and witches than have been burnt during our life time in the whole of Italy. It is therefore better for the people to turn for aid to the images of the Madonna than to Satan. In the matter of lights and choirs you have not even the excuse of misuse, or has the organ also tended towards idolatry?"
"We do not go to Church to see lights and hear music, but to ponder over the sufferings of the Lord."
"Sir," said the artist in a voice trembling with excitement, "I happened to be in Rome last Easter in the Chapel of the Pope, as on the day previous to the death of the Saviour they recalled to our minds, according to our form of worship, the sufferings of the Lord. The choir gave expression to the feeling which fills the soul at the thought of the terrible crime committed by mankind on Christ. That was no singsong, it seemed as if a deep wail passed over the whole earth and heaven on account of the blasphemy and evil of the world, and we wept likewise. And the lights which had been lit had no charm for us. One after another were they extinguished by an invisible hand. The last was borne away behind the altar. The Church was dark and only Michel Angelo's colossal figures of the last judgement loomed forth in the background. But this gradual extinction of the lights affected us more deeply than the best sermon could have done. I trembled, in my excitement I raised my hand to save the last flickering life-flame of the Saviour, and as the last light disappeared, then did we understand what the Scripture saith: 'The light shone in the darkness, but the darkness apprehended it not.' The pure and beautiful life of the Saviour was extinguished before our eyes. Believe me, I felt at that time the sufferings of the Lord more deeply, than if I had been in your Reformed church, and a red-faced man had stood up in the pulpit and had spoken in the coarse voice of a drunkard of a suffering which he comprehended not."
"If the preacher does not believe, the case is bad everywhere."
"If, if," cried Felix passionately, "real belief has ever been rare on earth. And does not even your Church Counsellor Ursinus himself state, that he scarcely knows six Christian clergymen in the Palatinate?"
"What does Ursinus know, who seated behind his study table continually finds objections, and who for years has seen nothing of the world but the road from the Sapientia college to the clerical Library in the tower?"
"Well, what I have seen myself does not convince me that these gentlemen can ever replace Michel Angelo, Raphael and Palestrina."
"In spite of these Masters we are far ahead of you in true culture," said Erast calmly.
"In true culture!" cried Felix angrily. "Look on this building. The culture of your people in these matters was incited by our Masters, then came the great heretic of Wittenberg, the horrible demon sent by the Wicked one to destroy you, and since then what have you done? Catechisms, confessions, pamphlets, books on subjects which none can know, and all your lives passed in wrangling, strife, and discussing unprofitable subjects. Only keep on in this way, and you will never again behold such edifices as that of the departed Otto Heinrich, but only continual bloodshed, hate and never-ending strife."
"Young man," replied Erast, "you have been only a few weeks in Germany, and do you therefore think yourself competent to speak a lasting judgement on our land? Look only at our schools, how the young people grow up Catechism in hand, know the words of Scripture, learn reading, writing, and the ten commandments. Look into the homes of our citizens. If we can once succeed in introducing in every house the Holy Scriptures, the German translation by Martin Luther, so that every man at any hour can take up the word of God, then are your sensuous means not necessary. Perhaps you find this proceeding coarse and plain, but that our people light no candles to the Virgin so that their children may regain their health, but rather seek a physician, that they do not go halves in matters of stealing and robbery with images of the Saints, arises from the fact, that they are edified by the word of God, which tells them what God wills, not by images, lights and music, when every man thinks of the desire of his heart, the one of the good and beautiful, the other of murder and thieving."
The calm man was beginning to work himself into a state of excitement when luckily Lydia came up. She appeared disturbed and her eyes shone feverishly bright. She listened to the conversation in silence, but heard the Artist rather with her eyes than with her ears.
"How like him, he is," she thought.
"And what do you say?" now asked Felix politely.
"That the one does not exclude the other. God's word remains throughout eternity, and when men are thoroughly imbued with it, then perhaps can they return again to images, lights, and organs."
"Thoroughly a woman's decision," said Felix laughing, "or shall I rather say: a judgement of Solomon?"
"No, Sir painter. The wise Solomon was a man, and therefore said, either, or, and ordered the child to be cut in two parts, the Queen of Sheba would have said: you shall both have the child and in this way does the world go on best."
"See how wise the maidens in the Palatinate are," rejoined Erast smiling, stretching out his hand to wish Felix farewell. Klytia felt very pleased at having given so good an answer and singing gleefully sprang up the steps to the portal of the Castle.
Master Paolo had indeed noticed his beloved pupil attending the evening service, and though the experienced orator had in no way broken down but let his pulpit eloquence roll on in the usual track, nevertheless his thoughts from the moment he became aware of her presence, did not remain earnestly fixed on the eternal pains of hell of which he was speaking. This was certainly improper, but whilst causing the bird to pick away the iron mountain, he thought: "she has forgiven thee;" and whilst his congregation was adding up the thousands of years, he said to himself: "she cannot tear herself away from thee." As he stood after the sermon in the lofty Chapter hall, adjoining the Chapel, and beheld through the high windows the sweet maiden standing in the court yard in eager converse with his brother and her father, he felt much inclined to join them, but the days of deep mortification through which he had passed were still present before him and he escaped through the hall of the Castle to the Burgweg.
The primus omnium of the College at Venice had felt himself thoroughly humbled under the cold look of the Countess at Neuburg, and the same sensation crept over him which he had formerly experienced when convicted of a gross grammatical error by the Jesuit fathers during his school days. Whilst teaching in the children's classes he often made a hasty motion, stamped with his feet, or bit his lips till they bled. The passionate excitable Neapolitan nature now rose uppermost. He was to be seen talking rapidly to himself in the woods, angrily striking the bushes with his stick, and the children were once much amused at seeing Magister Laurenzano seated on a bench near the convent pond, violently boxing his own ears and crying out repeatedly pazzo, pazzo! But only because he had acted as a fool, he said within himself, not because he was a sinner, and when he made in the Hirsch the great discovery of the damnable heresy of the parsons, his dogmatic indignation at these blasphemers against God helped to banish from his memory his own moral discomfiture. For a few days he was filled with the remembrance of the disgraceful Arian conspiracy. He had done with Lydia as he imagined. The heedless child now crossed his path once more of her own accord. Buried in thought he made his way down the Schlossberg, often pausing as if wishing to be overtaken, often standing still, as if wishing to climb up once again and seek Lydia in her own home. As he finally composed himself and was hastening in a resolute manner to his apartment, he met at the gate of the bridge the very person whom he now desired to escape. Erast had patients in the next village and his daughter willingly accompanied him. The physician addressed Paul in a kindly manner, whilst Lydia walked before them with bowed head listening attentively to what was said. On the father being stopped by one of his patients, the two young people were compelled to join one another, but to-day words seemed to fail the ready-witted Italian. He changed color and kept catching his breath. To break the painful silence Lydia praised the clear hue of the river flowing past them.
"The Neckar has become a friend to me," replied Paolo, "since I lived at the Stift; a friend about whose humor I inquire daily. If when awake I hear its restless moan prolonged during the whole night, and behold it the next morning gloomy and troubled, and the mountain above casting over it a deep shadow I feel as if I ought to console it. But another day its rippling sounds joyfully, it looks at me with thousand clear eyes and changing wanton lights, like the laugh of a child. In winter often does it seethe in its hasty passion and smoke like boiling water, being warmer than the chilled world around. To-day it is transparent and pure, like a young man with an easy conscience, but I have seen it looking quite differently," added the Preacher with a slight tremor in his voice, "troubled by evil storms and tempests and red with shame at what it had done." Saying this Paul attempted to look into the maiden's face, but immediately cast down his eyes. His first words had struck a sympathetic cord in Lydia's breast, but the direct acknowledgement of his sins embarrassed her. "How unhappy must he be when he confesses to me," thought she, and the pity of her heart shone out of the innocent eyes which gazed earnestly at him. The approach of her father put an end to all further explanations. They separated, as Erast wished to go to Neuenheim, Paul to the Stift. The good child felt now lighter at heart since the first dreaded interview with her former teacher was over, and the terrible remembrance buried. Mechanically, as if it must be so, did she reach out her hand to the man whose mental confusion she increased. Paul now knew, that he would daily find at this same hour the punctual physician on his visit to his sick patient, and thus accident often brought it about that their ways met. Erast liked to speak about Italy; Paolo knew how to relate; one always saw everything clearly represented when he depicted his home, the shimmering red over Vesuvius, as well as the ripples of the canal which splashed up against the marble steps in Venice. He understood moreover the gracious art of listening respectfully to the old man, and when Lydia perceived, what a high opinion her father had of Paul, she soon came under the spell of his appearance more helplessly than ever. Her hopes returned. Even should the good Abbess be in the right and he had been a zealous papist, why should he not shake off the secret bonds and as a free man ask her hand of her father, who would never refuse it! Was she less worthy than others, that a man should perpetrate this sacrifice for her. As day after day Paul sought her company in the presence of her father, and paid his silent homage, she began once more to believe in the sincerity of his wooing. That Love which believes all, and hopes all, told her, that he had cast away the old Faith for her sake, and with a ready confidence did she give herself up to this new belief. One evening he had again joined them, and whilst her father entered into his patient's house, Lydia found herself once more alone with the Magister, He immediately took her hand and said: "Lydia, have you forgiven me?" And the same sensation came over her that she ever had when near him, a tightening of the heart, a numbness of the will, and an undefined fear of being forced to do what he wished, against her own will, a blissful torture. He wound his arm around her waist, and kissed and kissed her over and over again. No explanation, no requests, no words, only kisses, burning kisses. And she stood there tremblingly resistless. But her heart did not feel the same happiness, that it had felt the first time she leant on his breast. Then like an angel of God had he gently drawn her to him, today he seized her as if committing a sin, his eyes rolled about restlessly to see whether they were alone, and hearing Erastus approaching, quickly did he hasten towards a field, where he pulled up a few plants and placing their blossoms within the lining of his hat, cleverly engaged the physician even from afar in a conversation about his patient, before that he could come up to where the excited child stood. Lydia soon came back to her senses. Her maiden pride revolted against such a treatment. His kisses burnt like spots upon her glowing cheeks, and as they passed a farm, where a clear cold water poured from two pipes, she felt as if she wished to enter, and wash away the impure taint. Ashamed and sad she walked on before them, thinking to herself how she could best make him declare his veritable intentions. But now an event occurred which plainly showed her the abyss round which she trod. A cloud of dust arose on the road leading to Ladenburg. On approaching, the three discerned a cart surrounded by mounted men accompanying two prisoners. Erastus pained at such a sight looked away. On this one of the prisoners, a long tall figure arose and cried out to the physician: "Friend, appeal on our behalf to the Kurfürst. We were not in earnest, and did not intend to emigrate." Struck by the well known sound of this voice Erastus stared at the afflicted dust-covered man and recognized with horror Inspector Sylvan whose guest he had frequently been in Ladenburg.
"There stands the traitor," now cried with furious gestures the other prisoner. Deacon Vehe, "he overheard us in the Hirsch," A cold smile passed over Paul's pale face.
"Take heed of him," now cried Sylvan, "and warn Neuser." With that the sad cavalcade passed on, as the riders whipped up the horses, so as to prevent any further remarks being exchanged. Horrified Erastus gazed at Laurenzano's cold stony face, whilst Lydia burst into tears. It suddenly became clear to her that the Magister was still treading the same dark paths, and as he had hurried to their destruction these men, friends of her father, so had she almost become his victim. She immediately depicted him to herself as wearing the cowl, from under which his demoniacal eyes gleamed at her, as her own had terrified her at that time from under the "Mirror of remembrance."
"Why have you accused those two men?" asked Erastus hoarsely of the Italian.
Laurenzano contemptuously shrugged his shoulders. "I know not what the good people mean. They took out in the Hirsch all kinds of papers and whispered together, whilst my brother Felix was relating his adventures to me, then they suddenly arose, cast an angry look at us and left without greeting. Had they forbidden secrets, it was not necessary for them to mention them in a tavern."
Erastus looked in silence at the Italian, but Paul continued calmly in a tone of slight reproof: "Moreover I only went to these evening gatherings because you advised me not to hold myself aloof from the country clergy. After my experience of to-day I shall deny myself that pleasure."
"Pardon me," answered Erastus with a feeling of shame, holding out his hand to Paul, "in that case the matter will be cleared up. And you have no idea of the contents of these papers?"
"I heard the names Transylvania, and that of the Woywode mentioned several times, but the secrets of these vulgar men did not seem to me worth listening to."
Erastus shook his head thoughtfully. "They wished to emigrate, so said Sylvan.... To Transylvania, therefore to the Unitarians, Sylvan's old idea. That may turn out badly," and he became buried in deep thought.
Lydia was not so easily appeased as her father. Her woman's instinct told her that Paul was guilty. That said by the prisoners agreed but too well with what she knew of the cowled monk, of his efforts for papistry, of his secret masses and exercitia, and with what the good Abbess had said to her. It was clear he was the same man to-day that he had ever been, and the heartless monk had wished to carry on a bold game with her. Angrily rejecting any attempted approach made by Paul she walked on hastily before them. Thus even the Magister was pleased when they separated at the head of the Bridge.
When father and daughter entered the town they found it in a state of great excitement. "They wanted to make Turks of us," called out an old woman as she descended the steps of the Heiligengeist. "They would betray the empire to the Sultan! The Church Counsellor has just told us so from the pulpit!"
"Speak no nonsense, Quadin," called out a lusty citizen. "Parson Neuser was an honorable man, and I preferred his red nose to all the pale-faced men, who gave themselves no rest, till they have wrought his destruction."
"What has happened to Parson Neuser," asked Erastus of the speaker.
"Do you not know, Sir Counsellor?" rejoined Neuser's advocate. "Magistrate Hartmann Hartmanni received the order of the Kurfürst to arrest him, but the Magistrate tarried too long at the gaming-table, and by the time he had said something pretty to all the waitresses the black bird was over the hills. His wife lied in saying he was only gone out, but in searching the house they found burnt papers and a packed up knapsack; his money he must have taken with him, for not a single penny was to be found. He is away leaving wife and child, and mounted men are searching for him along the roads."
"The Church Counsellor says he wanted to hand the empire over to the Turks," cried out the old woman once more.
"Parson Neuser?" said Erastus laughing, "on that score you can sleep in peace, my good woman. If the Turk wants to make war, he requires no Heidelberg Parson to help him." Shaking his head he went on. But at the next corner met with another group.
"They have also arrested Parsons Suter and Vehe," cried a hoarse voice, which Erastus immediately recognized to be Klaus' of the golden Stag. "All natives of the Palatinate must give way to the Belgian dogs."
"Sylvan and Neuser are no Palatines," said another voice.
"But they love our Palatinate, and have made front for us against the French, the Italians, and Dutch, who would be our masters."
"Let us burn down Olevianus' house," cried out a voice.
"And Zanchi's also," echoed another.
"And that of Dathen the court preacher," added Klaus.
"Be quiet good folks," now said Erastus. "Do not say anything that you might regret should you be ever heard by the Magistrate." The speakers already began to look about them in terror. "Get thee to thy tavern, Klaus, and attend to thy guests. No one has heard thee, but do not help to make matters worse."
The crowd in the market became visibly greater. Men poured forth from every house, and the voices sounded like the humming of a swarm of bees. Here Erastus remarked two of the bitterest of the nuns of the Stift at Neuburg, who were exciting the people by telling them, that the calvinistic church council was responsible for all this oppression. "Only come out to us on St. John's day," he heard Sister Anastasia, a withered up yellow old maid say, "then can you dance in the mill, and we shall soon see if the Calvinists dare prevent our good people from enjoying a proper amusement." The host of the Hirsch was relating in a side street to an astonished crowd of young villagers, that Olevianus intended closing all public houses; Parson Willing was making his way through the crowd with a ready smile, letting a word here and there be heard against the Professors. At the corner of the gable-house opposite the church, Erastus saw the baptist Werner standing, looking down from some raised steps, with socratic irony on the mob. He also met Xylander in the crowd, whose jolly brown eyes gleamed with pleasure at the turmoil going on around him.
"What are the people crying about?" he asked Erastus.
"If they only knew themselves. Crying seems to be to them the great object of life." Even the haggard philosopher Pithopöus, who overtopped by a head all his neighbours, was threading his way through the throng to his usual Tusculum. The cause of the concourse did not appear to him worthy of inquiring. What did it matter to him, that those ants swarmed. He only thought to himself: "Mankind would have been more supportable, had the Deity set a limit to the quantum." As the great man reached the Hirsch, Parson Willing whispered to him: "Philosopher! the movement is taking place, let us endow it with thought." Horrified at such familiarity, the Aristotelian knit his brows, but had not quite come to an end with this awe-inspiring performance ere the nimble Parson had ascended the front steps leading to the Hirsch and requested silence by signs and gestures. "The town preacher wishes to speak," was now heard on all sides. "Silence, silence for Parson Willing."
"Beloved Countrymen! Palatines! Citizens of Heidelberg!" began the Parson in a stentorian tone, his wrinkled face beaming with humor, whilst at the same time he rubbed his hands together with that soaping movement peculiar to him in the pulpit.
"He washes his hands in innocence," said the Baptist Werner to his neighbours.
"I have only asked for a hearing, my dear friends," cried the Parson, "to beg you to return quietly to your homes." A mocking laugh followed those words evidently spoken ironically. "Remember," continued the Parson, "that it is Saturday, and that Olevianus wishes to study his sermon of to-morrow, and if you make such a noise it is impossible for him to prepare himself and you know that a Professor must learn everything by heart before that he can speak in public." A fresh burst of laughter followed. "Thus you can plainly see, my dear children that you must be quiet. You also know well that Herr Olevianus is a pompous man, and that in the whole land none, but those he will, dare snort." A hail-storm of abusive words was now heard on all sides. "Then remember likewise that another clerical gentleman dwells in the neighbourhood. Parson Zankus ..."2 "Zanchius," corrected the tall Aristotelian in his magisterial voice.
"Well, I mean the little mannikin, who always begins a row, and then weeps in the pulpit; I cannot keep all their foreign names in my head, but he is just now taking his midday nap, so as to be better able to spy out at night, who may be tippling over much, therefore be still, else he will wake up and begin to cry. You know very well what is prescribed by the new discipline of the Church."
"No, we know nothing about it, we want no Church discipline," was shouted on all sides.
"Well," cried the Parson, taking a small book out of his pocket, "it is written in the thirteenth section: 'We decree also, that the parading of the streets at night, which up to the present time has led in a great measure to disorder, breaking of the peace, and immorality, be from this time forth done away with.' So that if you do not want to be fined thirty kreutzers per man, you must go to bed at sunset, so soon as the fowls of Herr Garnix3 go to roost." "Marnix!" shouted the Professor. "Marnix, quite right, but who can remember all the foreign names? But on the other hand Herr Olevianus grants you a concession," cried the Parson holding up his paper. "He whose health permits must go twice to Church on Sundays, and he who on Sundays or holidays is seen standing outside his door, or in a tavern or on the public places will be flogged. Thus, none must dare go to the Wolfsbrunnen on a Sunday or to the Mill at Bergheim, otherwise Miller Ulrich will trounce him with his broom." Mad shouts were heard on all sides. "Silence, my beloved brethren, lest you disturb Herrn Datterich." "Dathen," corrected the irrepressible Professor. "No, I meant in reality Herr Tremellius, but I keep confounding the numerous foreign names, and what is worse we must give our children outlandish names, as decreed by Herr Olevianus."
"How is that, what mean you?"
"Yes, citizens, you must re-christen your children. None shall be called Alexander nor Julius, those names are heathenish, nor Barbara nor Ursula, because they sound catholic, not even Franciscus nor Catherine;--Katie and Bab are not allowed, only such names as Sarah, Rebecca, Mardochaeus, Abraham, Gideon, Melchisedec, Zerubbabel, Zacharias. Biblical names alone are permitted, and the dragoon must call his sweetheart Abigail, and Bab her dragoon Habakuk. Thus is it decreed by the Church counsellors Olesinus and--now what is the name of the other."
"Olevianus and Ursinus," called out the Professor.
"Right, Olevianus and Urschelinus decree."
"It appears to me that this common fellow wishes to make fools of us," said the huge Pithopöus, entering the tavern with a look of withering contempt at Parson Willing. The Parson continued: "Neither can you marry when you will, Lupinus and Citronianus have ordered that no man over 60 dare marry a woman under 30."
"If the man however is Kurfürst?" said a voice from the crowd, amidst shouts of laughter. "Yes, little peasant, that is quite another matter, for that are we Frederic the Pious. Moreover President Beileger ..."
"Zuleger is he called ..." "Well Zuleger, or Hinleger, or Ableger, as you will, he sticks his nose even in the Kurfürst's pie. Dinners must not be in the Castle as they formerly were. Hear only what the mouse-trap dealer says on page 98: 'We order also, that in our district the extravagantly big dinners given at the coronation or at other times, and which have generally led to prodigality, causing drunkenness and dissipation, be abolished from this time on.' Thus no more money is to be made out of the castle, and foreign guests will keep away, if they are to be told by the Council, how many 'costumes' they shall be permitted to wear. Money, profit, pleasure all must stop, only Sunday schools and preaching are to be sanctioned in Heidelberg." A shout of rage arose from all sides. "Shooting for prizes, processions, theatres, dancing, bowls, dice, cards are all forbidden, only psalms, psalms, and yet more psalms." The growls became more threatening, more intense. Here and there was heard the crash of broken windowpanes. "I therefore exhort you, beloved friends, to go home quietly. The Calvinistic gentlemen don't joke. Fines, lock and key will punish all church offences, other crimes mean the rack, burning, or beheading. Above all send the children home. You well know that Master Calvin ordered girls of nine, and boys of twelve to be beheaded, so that the town might be kept in good order and in the fear of God. When I was in Geneva in the year 45, thirty-four people were beheaded between February and May, because they would not acknowledge Calvin as their Master, and refused to profess the dogmas of his Church, among the latter was the executioner's own mother."
After these words things became more quiet. Certain street boys put their hands in their pockets and let the stones which they had stored up, quietly drop on the ground. At the same moment the crowd at the east-end of the market began to disperse. The sound of trumpets was heard in the direction of the cornmarket. "I now repeat," cried Willing in stentorian tones, "he who is an obedient subject of His Highness the Kurfürst will hasten home at once, and go quietly to bed. The Church Council will take heed of everything else. And now I call you all to witness, that I said these words only to exhort you to be quiet and to summon you to go home peacefully, and have not said a word about freeing the prisoners." Saying this he got down and disappeared within the tavern, where Xylander laughingly greeted him. His audience followed his example and dispersed. At the same time the trotting of horses was heard, and an officer's guard of infantry moreover appeared on the Burgway, coming towards the town at the double. Immediately the crowd in the other squares began to break up, at first hesitatingly, growling, and slowly, then by degrees quicker, and when the soldiers appeared they found the market place deserted and empty, and only laughing faces were seen at the windows above looking down at the horses' tails, as they disappeared round the corner of the Heiligengeist towards the Hauptstrasse.
Erastus had taken refuge from the surging crowd in the gable house opposite the church, and resolved to leave Lydia in the care of the owner, his French friend Belier, till he had made further inquiries. Herr Belier was one of those industrious Huguenots, who had founded new businesses in the places to which they had immigrated and had acquired a fortune through unwearied toil. The master of the house, a tall distinguished looking man, whose moustachios reminded one of Henry the Bearnais (IV.), and his small plump wife, greeted their beloved physician with evident pleasure. "Can you tell me what all this means? Three of the Clergy imprisoned, one a fugitive, the people embittered against strangers, cavalry in all the streets, houses searched everywhere," asked the energetic Frenchman, whilst his wife affectionately drew Erastus' daughter with her to the window.
"Look at this crowd, dear child," she said. "Did you ever before see Heidelberg in such a state of excitement?"
"I wished to hear the news from you, Herr Belier," answered Erastus. "Let us go over to the Hirsch, there we can certainly ascertain."
"I do not visit taverns," said Belier with a polite but negative motion of the hand.
"Good, then I will take that sin on myself," laughed Erastus, "take care of my child, I shall soon be back."
Whilst Herr Belier accompanied Erastus downstairs and then returned to his study, Lydia remained at the window with the lively Frenchwoman. She felt very sad, and would have wished to be alone so as to have a good cry. All this misery had been caused by the horrid man, who had wished to drag her to destruction, and against whom she nevertheless felt herself to be defenceless.
"Who has been the cause of all this trouble?" asked the little Frenchwoman with a sigh.
"Laurenzano," called out a screechy voice, "filou Laurenzano."
Lydia turned pale, and looked around her in terror. Frau Belier laughed. "Be quiet, Papchen," she said to a bird, which Lydia now noticed for the first time. "You scare people." Lydia clung terrified to Frau Belier's arm.
"There is witchcraft in this," she said trembling, "The bird is right. Oh, how frightened I am!"
"Be sensible, child, the name of our architect is Laurenzano, and as his name is mentioned daily in connection with the new building my husband is undertaking, the parrot has picked up his name."
"No, no," said Klytia trembling, "he has learnt it from the Evil one."
"But I assure you, that he calls out the name at least twenty times a day. He is always proud of a new accomplishment. What could the good architect have to do with this matter? Or are you thinking of his brother?"
Lydia remained silent with a sad look on her face. This aroused the curiosity, or as she preferred to term it, them otherly interest of the Frenchwoman. "Why do you think evil of Master Laurenzano?" asked she, fixing her kindly brown eyes on the face of the maiden.
"He acted in a wrong manner toward me," sobbed Lydia, and she felt as if the places kissed by Laurenzano more than hour since, still burnt her face. The words had escaped the lips of the excited maiden involuntarily, but concealment was no longer possible. The sharp woman asked and crossquestioned so long that Klytia had to make a full confession. When she hesitated, the indiscreet Frenchwoman supplied the rest in a manner best pleasing to herself. "He made appointments with thee, followed after thee, etc.," so that the poor child had to disclose her secret in order that the matter should not appear in a worse light than it really was.
The fiery little woman stamped her foot angrily. "He is in truth an abominable wolf in sheep's clothing, a seducer, a secret papist, a spy, perhaps even a Jesuit."
"Filou, filou" cried out the bird.
"But you promise not to say a word of this to my father," said Lydia beseechingly.
"I betray you, foi de Bayard! I a Frenchwoman, tell women's secrets to men? What do you think of me? But you must place yourself under my surveillance, you little rogue," she added kindly. "We shall soon be quits with that black gentleman. Come and see me to-morrow again, and we shall take counsel together," and she kissed Lydia with so much emphasis both on cheeks and forehead, that the child began to smile once more.
When Erastus returned together with the master of the house, he looked sad and stern. He told the ladies, that the Kurfürst had suddenly sent orders from Speyer to have the clergyman at Freudenheim, the Deacon at Lautern, and the Inspector at Ladenburg arrested, and their papers to be sequestered. Neuser had been warned against the same fate in a few Latin words by a student, who had been requested by the prisoners as they were being hurried off to put him on his guard. They had also from their car called out to the Parson of Neuenheim "tell this to Neuser." He could not be far off, as he had hardly left his house, when the Police-magistrate Hartmann Hartmanni appeared. A horrible pamphlet against the doctrine of the Trinity had been found among Sylvan's papers. The Amtmann came in just as Neuser's wife was setting fire to his papers. The brave woman had however thus become an accomplice in vain, for hidden among her husbands books a singular and blasphemous letter was found addressed to the Sultan of Turkey, in which Selim II. was invited to unite himself with a large party in Germany who wished to overthrow the antichristian dogma of the Trinity and introduce the pure doctrine of the Koran of the One God. Neuser must have been either drunk or mad when he composed such an insane letter; moreover he had written on the blank side, "potest omitti," which means, need not be sent on. But that it was not being sent on was the worst for him, for it had been inserted among the other documents, and if read in Court would bring the heaviest punishments with it. "How intentionally the opposition party is spreading the scandal," added Erastus sighing, "is proved by the fact, that the Clergy read out during evening service Neuser's letter to their congregations, and dozens of copies have already been spread about the town. Probus has lent me his, here read the abominable nonsense," and he handed Belier a paper, which he had stuck in his belt.
The Huguenot stepped to the low round-paned window and read amidst exclamations of horror the paper lent to him. "That is in truth high treason," cried he. "Listen, Fanchon, to what the wretch writes to the sultan: 'On that account if Your Majesty wishes to bring the heretical Christians to acknowledge the One God, wishes to extend your empire, and to spread in the world the worship of the only true God, now is the time, whilst the Priests and Pastors of the Christians are at variance, and the common people are beginning to doubt the Faith. The Bishops and Authorities oppress and persecute the poor to such an extent, that Your Majesty's arrival is openly desired, so that Your Majesty may take possession of the German empire and thus free the poor.'"
"The wretch," cried Frau Belier, whilst Erastus paced up and down in concern. "Still worse," continued Belier. "He offers to give the Grandturk advice by word of mouth. 'What further you may desire to know concerning the Christians, I shall myself inform Your Majesty in person.' He deserves the axe and that legally," said the Frenchman as he folded the letter and returned it to Erastus. "I must not conceal it from you, my friend," cried he excitedly as Erastus kept silence, "that I am as strongly opposed to such blasphemies against the name of God as is Master Calvin. To punish robbery, murder, extortion with death, but to suffer the name of the Deity to be treated with contumely because thereby men are not personally injured but only the worship of God, would be to act in an unreasonable and godless manner. The laws of the state must place the honor of God on as sure a basis as that of man. A Pastor, who sets the Alkoran of Satan above the word of God, must be rooted out of the community." Erastus shrugged his shoulders. "Nevertheless," he said, "it is sad that the delirium of a drunkard should be punished with the rack and execution. The man has a good wife and a crowd of children. Other innocent persons will be punished together with him. Ursinus' bachelors and licentiates are skipping about with joy. This scandal suits them as if made to order. Already they have given out as password that all opponents of the 'Geneva interdict' and of the Presbyterian police are to be regarded as accomplices of the Arians." He then added that he himself and Xylander had been purposely shunned at the Hirsch. His best friends had anxiously asked him, whether it was true, that they had often held conferences at Ladenburg with Sylvan. Olevianus and his party evidently intended to turn to their own benefit, the feeling against himself, Xylander and Probus. Ursinus had stated to the students, and Olevianus to the congregations, that the prisoners were only the "sharp-shooters of Satan," the "generals" would soon be found out. "Scarcely is peace once more brought into the Church," sighed Erast, "than we are again dragged into a most dreadful warfare."
"No one who knows you," said Belier heartily, "will believe your enemies' statement, that you have made common cause with the blasphemers. I do not approve of your opposition to the Church discipline. A Church without discipline is in my opinion no Church and no Body of Christ. But I know, that you combat the thirst for power, not the intention of purifying and edifying the body politic."
Erastus held out his hand. "I thank you, noble friend," he said feelingly. "In Geneva and Scotland, where no evangelical ruler existed, the Theologians deserved thanks when they took on themselves the maintenance of order. Here such a necessity does not exist. We have no Maria Stuart, no Guises to struggle against, but are blessed with a christian, evangelical ruler. Olevianus and Ursinus do not wish to guide the populace while standing in their midst, as did the Prophets of France and Scotland, but wish to play at being Calvin and Knox behind their desks, and that will not answer. They are strangers in our land, and have not a hundred people to follow after them."
"That may be so," said Belier evasively. "Nevertheless come what may; the man who by his skill and care saved my wife from death, will ever find this house open to him, even if we do not agree in matters relating to the welfare of the community." They parted with a hearty shake of the hand.