the most just cause for anxiety? Are not Henry and George, our beloved sons, at this very moment perhaps engaged in doubtful contest with our hereditary foe, Count Roderic of Maltingen? RUD. Now, there lies the difference: you sorrow that they are in danger, I that I cannot share it with them.-Hark! I hear horses' feet on the drawbridge. Go to the window, Isabella. ISA. (at the window.) It is Wickerd, your squire. RUD. Then shall we have tidings of George and Henry. (Enter WICKERD.) How now, Wickerd? Have you come to blows yet? WIC. Not yet, noble sir. WICKERD comes forward. WIC. What, ho! Reynold! Reynold!-By our Lady, the spirit of the Seven Sleepers is upon him-So ho! not mounted yet! Reynold! Enter REYNOLD. REY. Here! here! A devil choke thy bawling! think'st thou old Reynold is not as ready for a skirmish as thou? Wic. Nay, nay: I did but jest; but, by my sooth it were a shame should our youngsters have yoked with Count Roderic before we gray beards come. REY. Heaven forefend! Our troopers are but RUD. Not yet?-shame on the boys' dallying- saddling their horses; five minutes more, and we what wait they for? WIC. The foe is strongly posted, sir knight, upon the Wolfshill, near the ruins of Griefenhaus; therefore your noble son, George of Aspen, greets you well, and requests twenty more men-at-arms, and, after they have joined him, he hopes, with the aid of St. Theodore, to send you news of victory. RUD. (attempts to rise hastily.) Saddle my black barb; I will head them myself. (Sits down.) A murrain on that stumbling roan! I had forgot my dislocated bones. Call Reynold, Wickerd, and bid him take all whom he can spare from defence of the castle-(WICKERD is going)- -and ho! Wickerd, carry with you my black barb, and bid George charge upon him. (Exit WICKERD.) Now see, Isabella, if I disregard the boy's safety; I send him the best horse ever knight bestrode. When we lay before Ascalon, indeed, I had a bright bay Persian-Thou dost not heed me. ISA. Forgive me, dear husband; are not our sons in danger? Will not our sins be visited upon them? Is not their present situation RUD. Situation? I know it well: as fair a field for open fight as I ever hunted over: see here(makes lines on the table)-here is the ancient castle of Griefenhaus in ruins, here the Wolfshill; and here the marsh on the right. ISA. The marsh of Griefenhaus! RUD. Yes; by that the boys must pass. ISA. Pass there! (Apart.) Avenging Heaven! thy hand is upon us! [Exit hastily. RUD. Whither now? Whither now? She is gone. Thus it goes. Peter! Peter! (Enter PETER.) Help me to the gallery, that I may see them on horseback. [Exit, leaning on PETER. SCENE II. The inner court of the Castle of Ebersdorf; a quadrangle, surrounded with Gothic buildings; troopers, followers of RUDIGER, pass and repass in haste, as if preparing for an excursion. are in our stirrups, and then let Count Roderic sit fast. WIC. A plague on him! he has ever lain hard on the skirts of our noble master. REY. Especially since he was refused the hand of our lady's niece, the pretty Lady Gertrude. WIC. Ay, marry! would nothing less serve the fox of Maltingen than the lovely lamb of our young Baron Henry! By my sooth, Reynold, when I look upon these two lovers, they make me full twenty years younger; and when I meet the man that would divide them-I say nothing-but let him look to it. REY. And how fare our young lords! WIC. Each well in his humor.-Baron George stern and cold, according to his wont, and his brother as cheerful as ever. REY. Well!-Baron Henry for me. REY. True-with as much indifference as if he had been snatching a chestnut out of the fire. Now Baron Henry wept for my danger and my wounds. Therefore George shall ever command my life, but Henry my love. WIC. Nay, Baron George shows his gloomy spirit even by the choice of a favorite. REY. Ay-Martin, formerly the squire of Arnolf of Ebersdorf, his mother's first husband.-I marvel he could not have fitted himself with an attendant from among the faithful followers of his worthy father, whom Arnolf and his adherents used to hate as the Devil hates holy water. But Martin is a good soldier, and has stood toughly by George in many a hard brunt. WIC. The knave is sturdy enough, but so sulky withal-I have seen, brother Reynold, that when Martin showed his moody visage at the banquet, ! our noble mistress has dropped the wine she was raising to her lips, and exchanged her smiles for a ghastly frown, as if sorrow went by sympathy, as kissing goes by favor. REY. His appearance reminds her of her first husband, and thou hast well seen that makes her ever sad. 1 Fill me a bowl of wine, Gertrude; and do thou, Peter, call the minstrel who came hither last night. (Sings.) "Off rode the horseman, dash, sa, sa! And stroked his whiskers, tra, la, la.”— WIC. Dost thou marvel at that? She was married to Arnolf by a species of force, and they say that before his death he compelled her to swear never to espouse Rudiger. The priests will not absolve her for the breach of that vow, and therefore she is troubled in mind. For, d'ye mark me, Reynold [Bugle sounds. REY. A truce to your preaching! To horse! (PETER goes out.-RUDIGER sits down, and GERand a blessing on our arms! TRUDE helps him with wine.) Thanks, my love. It [Exeunt. tastes ever best from thy hand. Isabella, here is glory and victory to our boys-(Drinks.)—Wilt thou not pledge me? WIC. St. George grant it! SCENE III. The gallery of the Castle, terminating in a large balcony commanding a distant prospect.— Voices, bugle-horns, kettle-drums, trampling of horses, &c., are heard without. RUDIGER, leaning on PETER, looks from the balcony. GERTRUDE and ISABELLA are near him. RUD. There they go at length-look, Isabella! look, my pretty Gertrude-these are the ironhanded warriors who shall tell Roderic what it will cost him to force thee from my protection(Flourish without-RUDIGER stretches his arms from the balcony.) Go, my children, and God's blessing with you. Look at my black barb, Gertrude. That horse shall let daylight in through a phalanx, were it twenty pikes deep. Shame on it that I cannot mount him! Seest thou how fierce old Reynold looks? GER. I can hardly know my friends in their armor. [The bugles and kettle-drums are heard as at a greater distance. RUD. Now I could tell every one of their names, even at this distance; ay, and were they covered, as I have seen them, with dust and blood. He on the dapple-gray is Wickerd—a hardy fellow, but somewhat given to prating. That is young Conrad who gallops so fast, page to thy Henry, my girl. [Bugles, &c., at a greater distance still. GER. Heaven guard them. Alas! the voice of war that calls the blood into your cheeks chills and freezes mine. RUD. Say not so. It is glorious, my girl, glorious! See how their armor glistens as they wind round yon hill! how their spears glimmer amid the long train of dust. Hark! you can still hear the faint notes of their trumpets-(Bugles very faint.) And Rudiger, old Rudiger with the iron arm, as the crusaders used to call me, must remain behind with the priests and the women. Well! well!-(Sings.) "It was a knight to battle rode, And as his war-horse he bestrode." ISA. To their safety, and God grant it!--(Drinks.) Enter BERTRAM as a minstrel, with a boy bearing RUD. Thy name, minstrel ? [BERTRAM sings to the harp. RUD. Thanks, minstrel: well sung, and lustily. What sayest thou, Isabella ? ISA. I marked him not. RUD. Nay, in sooth you are too anxious. Cheer up. And thou, too, my lovely Gertrude: in a few hours, thy Henry shall return, and twine his laurels into a garland for thy hair. He fights for thee, and he must conquer. GER. Alas! must blood be spilled for a silly maiden? RUD. Surely for what should knights break lances but for honor and ladies' love-ha, minstrel ? BER. So please you-also to punish crimes. RUD. Out upon it! wouldst have us executioners, minstrel ? Such work would disgrace our blades. We leave malefactors to the Secret Tribunal. ISA. Merciful God! Thou hast spoken a word, Rudiger, of dreadful import. GER. They say that, unknown and invisible themselves, these awful judges are ever present with the guilty; that the past and the present misdeeds, the secrets of the confessional, nay, the very thoughts of the heart are before them; that their doom is as sure as that of fate, the means and executioners unknown. RUD. They say true; the secrets of that association, and the names of those who compose it, are as inscrutable as the grave: we only know that it has taken deep root, and spread its branches wide. I sit down each day in my hall, nor know I how many of these secret judges may surround me, all bound by the most solemn vow to avenge guilt. Once, and but once, a knight, at the earnest request and inquiries of the emperor, hinted that he belonged to the society: the next morning he was found slain in a forest: the poniard was left in the wound, and bore this label-" Thus do the invisible judges punish treachery." GER. Gracious! aunt, you grow pale. RUD. And what of it all? We know our hearts are open to our Creator: shall we fear any earthly inspection? Come to the battlements; there we shall soonest descry the return of our warriors. [Exit RUDIGER, with GERTRUDE and PETER. ISA. Minstrel, send the chaplain hither. (Erit BERTRAM.) Gracious Heaven! the guileless innocence of my niece, the manly honesty of my upright-hearted Rudiger, become daily tortures to me. While he was engaged in active and stormy exploits, fear for his safety, joy when he returned to his castle, enabled me to disguise my inward anguish from others. But from myself Judges of blood, that lie concealed in noontide as in midnight, who boast to avenge the hidden guilt, and to penetrate the recesses of the human breast, how blind is your penetration, how vain your dagger, and your cord, compared to the conscience of the sinner! Enter FATHER LUDOVIC. LUD. Peace be with you, lady! ISA. It is not with me: it is thy office to bring it. LUD. And the cause is the absence of the young knights? ISA. Their absence and their danger. LUD. Daughter, thy hand has been stretched out in bounty to the sick and to the needy. Thou hast not denied a shelter to the weary, nor a tear to the afflicted. Trust in their prayers, and in those of the holy convent thou hast founded; peradventure they will bring back thy children to thy bosom. ISA. Thy brethren cannot pray for me or mine. Their vow binds them to pray night and day for another to supplicate, without ceasing, the Eternal Mercy for the soul of one who-Oh, only Heaven knows how much he needs their prayer! LUD. Unbounded is the mercy of Heaven. The soul of thy former husband ISA. I charge thee, priest, mention not the word. (Apart.) Wretch that I am, the meanest menial in my train has power to goad me to madness! LUD. Hearken to me, daughter; thy crime against Arnolf of Ebersdorf cannot bear in the eye of Heaven so deep a dye of guilt. ISA. Repeat that once more; say once again that it cannot-cannot bear so deep a dye. Prove to me that ages of the bitterest penance, that tears of the dearest blood, can erase such guilt. Prove but that to me, and I will build thee an abbey which shall put to shame the fairest fane in Christendom. LUD. Nay, nay, daughter, your conscience is over tender. Supposing that, under dread of the stern Arnolf, you swore never to marry your present husband, still the exacting such an oath was unlawful, and the breach of it venial. ISA. (resuming her composure.) Be it so, good father; I yield to thy better reasons. And now tell me, has thy pious care achieved the task I intrusted to thee? LUD. Of superintending the erection of thy new hospital for pilgrims? I have, noble lady; and last night the minstrel now in the castle lodged there. ISA. Wherefore came he then to the castle! LUD. Reynold brought the commands of the Baron. ISA. Whence comes he, and what is his tale! When he sung before Rudiger, I thought that long before I had heard such tones-seen such a face. LUD. It is possible you may have seen him, lady, for he boasts to have been known to Arnolf of Ebersdorf, and to have lived formerly in this castle. He inquires much after Martin, Arnolf's squire. Isa. Go, Ludovic-go quick, good father, seek him out, give him this purse, and bid him leave the castle, and speed him on his way. LUD. May I ask why, noble lady? ISA. Thou art inquisitive, priest: I honor the servants of God, but I foster not the prying spirit of a monk. Begone! LUD. But the Baron, lady, will expect a reason why I dismiss his guest? ISA. True, true (recollecting herself); pardon my warmth, good father, I was thinking of the cuckoo that grows too big for the nest of the sparrow, and strangles its foster-mother. Do no such birds roost in convent-walls? LUD. Lady, I understand you not. ISA. Well, then, say to the Baron, that I have dismissed long ago all the attendants of the man of whom thou hast spoken, and that I wish to have none of them beneath my roof. LUD. (inquisitively.) Except Martin? ISA. (sharply.) Except Martin! who saved the life of my son George? Do as I command thee. [Erit. Manet LUDOVIC. LUD. Ever the same-stern and peremptory to others as rigorous to herself; haughty even to me, to whom, in another mood, she has knelt for absolution, and whose knees she has bathed in tears. I cannot fathom her. The unnatural zeal with which she performs her dreadful penances cannot be religion, for shrewdly I guess she believes not in their blessed efficacy. Well for her that she is the foundress of our convent, otherwise we might not have erred in denouncing her as a heretic. [Erit. ACT IL-SCENE I. A woodland prospect.-Through a long avenue, half grown up by brambles, are discerned in the background the ruins of the ancient Castle of Griefenhaus. The distant noise of battle is heard during this scene. Enter GEORGE OF ASPEN, armed with a battle-axe in his hand, as from horseback. He supports MARTIN, and brings him forward. GEO. Lay thee down here, old friend. The enemy's horsemen will hardly take their way among these brambles, through which I have dragged thee. MAR. Oh, do not leave me! leave me not an instant! My moments are now but few, and I would profit by them. chapel of Ebersdorf, the ill-omened rites were per formed; her resistance, her screams were in vain. These arms detained her at the altar till the nuptial benediction was pronounced. Canst thou forgive me? GEO. I do forgive thee. Thy obedience to thy savage master has been obliterated by a long train of services to his widow. MAR. Services! ay, bloody services for they commenced-do not quit my hand-they commenced with the murder of my master. (GEORGE quits his hand, and stands aghast in speechless horror.) Trample on me! pursue me with your dagger! I aided your mother to poison her first husband! I thank Heaven, it is said. GEO. My mother? Sacred Heaven! Martin, thou ravest the fever of thy wound has distracted thee. MAR. No! I am not mad! Would to God I were! GEO. Martin, you forget yourself and me-I must Try me! Yonder is the Wolfshill-yonder the old back to the field. MAR. (attempts to rise.) Then drag me back thither also; I cannot die but in your presence-I dare not be alone. Stay, to give peace to my parting soul. GEO. I am no priest, Martin. (Going.) MAR. (raising himself with great pain.) Baron George of Aspen, I saved thy life in battle: for that good deed, hear me but one moment. GEO. I hear thee, my poor friend. (Returning.) MAR. But come close-very close. See'st thou, sir knight-this wound I bore for thee-and this— and this-dost thou not remember? GEO. I do. MAR. I have served thee since thou wast a child; served thee faithfully-was never from thy side. GEO. Thou hast. MAR. And now I die in thy service. MAR. I cannot. By my long service-by my scars-by this mortal gash, and by the death that I am to die-oh, do not hate me for what I am now to unfold! GEO. Be assured I can never hate thee. MAR. Ah, thou little knowest-Swear to me thou wilt speak a word of comfort to my parting soul. GEO. (takes his hand.) I swear I will. (Alarm and shouting.) But be brief-thou knowest my haste. MAR. Hear me, then. I was the squire, the beloved and favorite attendant, of Arnolf of Ebersdorf. Arnolf was savage as the mountain bear. He loved the Lady Isabel, but she requited not his passion. She loved thy father; but her sire, old Arnheim, was the friend of Arnolf, and she was forced to marry him. By midnight, in the | castle of Griefenhaus-and yonder is the hemlock marsh (in a whisper) where I gathered the deadly plant that drugged Arnolf's cup of death. (George traverses the stage in the utmost agitation, and sometimes stands over MARTIN with his hands clasped together.) Oh, had you seen him when the potion took effect! Had you heard his ravings, and seen the contortions of his ghastly visage!-He died furious and impenitent, as he lived; and wentwhere I am shortly to go. You do not speak? GEO. (with exertion.) Miserable wretch! how can I? MAR. Can you not forgive me? GEO. May God pardon thee-I cannot ! GEO. For that, take my curse! (He snatches up his battle-axe, and rushes out to the side from which the noise is heard.) MAR. Hear me ! yet more-more horror! (Attempts to rise, and falls heavily. A loud alarm.) Enter WICKERD, hastily. WIC. In the name of God, Martin, lend me thy brand! MAR. Take it. WIC. Where is it? MAR. (looks wildly at him.) In the chapel at Ebersdorf, or buried in the hemlock marsh. Wic. The old grumbler is crazy with his wounds. Martin, if thou hast a spark of reason in thee, give me thy sword. The day goes sore against us. MAR. There it lies. Bury it in the heart of thy master George; thou wilt do him a good officethe office of a faithful servant. Enter CONRAD. CON. Away, Wickerd! to horse, and pursue! Baron George has turned the day; he fights more 1 like a fiend than a man: he has unhorsed Roderic, and slain six of his troopers-they are in headlong flight-the hemlock marsh is red with their gore! (MARTIN gives a deep groan, and faints.) Away! away! (They hurry off, as to the pursuit.) Enter RODERIC OF MALTINGEN, without his helmet, his arms disordered and broken, holding the truncheon of a spear in his hand; with him, BARON WOLFSTEIN. ROD. A curse on fortune, and a double curse upon George of Aspen! Never, never will I forgive him my disgrace-overthrown like a rotten trunk before a whirlwind! WOLF. Be comforted, Count Roderic; it is well we have escaped being prisoners. See how the ! troopers of Aspen pour along the plain, like the billows of the Rhine! It is good we are shrouded by the thicket. ROD. Why took he not my life, when he robbed me of my honor and of my love? Why did his spear not pierce my heart, when mine shivered on his arms like a frail bulrush? (Throws down the broken spear.) Bear witness, heaven and earth, I outlive this disgrace only to avenge! WOLF. Be comforted; the knights of Aspen have not gained a bloodless victory. And see, there lies one of George's followers-(seeing MARTIN.) ROD. His squire Martin; if he be not dead, we will secure him: he is the depositary of the secrets of his master. Arouse thee, trusty follower of the house of Aspen! WOLF. The old man takes you for his master. MAR. Oh, I would tell all the temptations by which I was urged to the murder of Ebersdorf! ROD. Murder!-this is worth marking. Proceed. MAR. I loved a maiden, daughter of Arnolf's steward; my master seduced her-she became an outcast, and died in misery--I vowed vengeanceand I did avenge her. ROD. Hadst thou accomplices? MAR. Ay: she hated her husband: he knew her love to Rudiger, and when she heard that thy father was returned from Palestine, her life was endangered by the transports of his jealousythus prepared for evil, the fiend tempted us, and we fell. ROD. (breaks into a transport.) Fortune! thou hast repaid me all! Love and vengeance are my own!-Wolfstein, recall our followers! quick, sound thy bugle-(WOLFSTEIN sounds.) MAR. (stares wildly round.) That was no note of Aspen-Count Roderic of Maltingen-Heaven: what have I said! ROD. What thou canst not recall. MAR. Then is my fate decreed! "Tis as it should be in this very place was the poison gather'd'tis retribution! Enter three or four soldiers of RODERIC ROD. Secure this wounded trooper; bind his wounds, and guard him well: carry him to the ruins of Griefenhaus, and conceal him till the troopers of Aspen have retired from the pursuit ; look to him, as you love your lives. MAR. (led off by soldiers.) Ministers of vengeance! my hour is come! [Exeunt. ROD. Hope, joy, and triumph, once again are ye Welcome to my heart, long-absent visitants! One lucky chance has thrown dominion into the scale of the house of Maltingen, and Aspen kicks the beam. mine! WOLF. I foresee, indeed, dishonor to the family of Aspen, should this wounded squire make good his tale. ROD. And how think'st thou this disgrace will fall on them? WOLF. Surely, by the public punishment of Lady Isabella. ROD. And is that all! WOLF. What more ROD. Shortsighted that thou art, is not George of Aspen, as well as thou, a member of the holy and invisible circle, over which I preside? WOLF. Speak lower, for God's sake! these are things not to be mentioned before the sun. ROD. True: but stands he not bound by the most solemn oath religion can devise, to discover to the tribunal whatever concealed iniquity shall come to his knowledge, be the perpetrator whom he may-ay, were that perpetrator his own father-or mother; and can you doubt that he has heard Martin's confession? WOLF. True: but, blessed Virgin ! do you think he will accuse his own mother before the invisible judges? ROD. If not, he becomes forsworn, and, by our law, must die. Either way my vengeance is complete-perjured or parricide, I care not; but, as the one or the other shall I crush the haughty George of Aspen. WOLF. Thy vengeance strikes deep. ROD. Deep as the wounds I have borne from this proud family. Rudiger slew my father in battle-George has twice baffled and dishonored my arms, and Henry has stolen the heart of my beloved: but no longer can Gertrude now remain under the care of the murderous dam of this brood of wolves; far less can she wed the smooth |