On the following morning the Count of Hartenburg
took horse at an early hour. His train, however,
showed that the journey was to be short. But
Monsieur Latouche, who mounted in company, wore
the attire and furniture of a traveller. It was in
truth the moment when Emich, having used this
quasi churchman for his own ends, was about to
dismiss him, with as much courtesy and grace as the
circumstances seemed to require. Perhaps no picture
of the different faces presented by a church that
had so long enjoyed an undisputed monopoly in
christendom, and which, as a consequence, betrayed
so strong a tendency to abuses, would have been

[figure description] Page 234.[end figure description]

complete without some notice of such characters as
the Knight of the Cross and the Abbé; and it was,
moreover, our duty, as faithful chroniclers, to speak
of things as they existed, although the accessories
might not have a very capital connection with the
interest of the principal subject. But here our
slight relations with the Abbé are to cease altogether,
his host having treated him, as many politic rulers
treat others of his profession, purely as the instrument
of his own views. Albrecht of Viederbach
was prepared to accompany his boon associate far
as Mannheim, but with the intention to return, the
unsettled state of his order, and his consanguinity
with the Count, rendering such a course both expedient
and agreeable. Young Berchthold, too, was
in the saddle, his lord having, by especial favour,
commanded the Forester to keep at his crupper.

The cavalcade ambled slowly down the Jaegerthal,
the Count courteously endeavoring to show the departing
Abbé, by a species of misty logic that appears
to be the poetical atmosphere of diplomacy, that he
was fully justified by circumstances for affecting all
that had been done, and the latter acquiescing as
readily in his conclusions, as if he did not feel that
he had been an egregious dupe.

“Thou wilt see this matter rightly represented
among thy friends, Master Latouche,” concluded the
Baron—“should there be question of it, at the court
of thy Francis:—whom may Heaven quickly restore
to his longing people—the right valiant and loyal
Prince and gentleman!”

“I will take upon myself, high-born and ingenuous
Emich, to see thee fully justified, whenever there
shall be discussion of thy great warfare and exquisite
policy at the court of France. Nay,—by the mass!
should our jurists, or our statesmen take upon themselves
to prove to the world that thy house hath been
wrong in this immortal enterprise, I pledge thee my

[figure description] Page 235.[end figure description]

faith to answer their reasons, both logically and politically,
to their eternal shame and confusion.”

As Monsieur Latouche uttered this promise with
an unequivocal sneer, he thought himself fully avenged,
for the silly part he had been made to act in the
Count's intrigues. At a later day he often told the
tale, always concluding with a recital of this bold
and ironical allusion to the petty history of the Jaegerthal,
which not only he, but a certain portion of
his listeners, seemed to think gave him altogether
the best of the affair. Satisfied with his success, the
Abbé pricked on, to repeat it to the knight, who
laughed in his sleeve at his friend while he most extolled
his wit, the two riding ahead in a manner to
leave Emich an occasion to speak in confidence with
his Forester.

“Hast treated of this affair with Heinrich, as I bid
thee, boy?” demanded the Count, in a manner between
authority and affection, that he was much accustomed
to use with Berchthold.

“I have, my Lord Count, and right pressingly, as
my heart urged, but with little hope of benefit.”

“How?—Doth the silly burgher still count upon
his marks, after what hath passed! Didst tell him
of the interest I take in the marriage, and of my intent
to name thee to higher duties, in my villages?”

“None of these favors were forgotten, or aught
else that a keen desire could suggest, or a willing
memory recall.”

“What answer had the burgher?”

Berchthold colored, hesitating to reply. It was
only when Emich sternly repeated the question, that
the truth was extorted from him; for nought but
truth would one so loyal consent to use.

“He said, Herr Count, that if it was your pleasure
to name a husband for his child, it should also be
your pleasure to see that he was not a beggar. I do
but give the words of the Herr Frey; for which

[figure description] Page 236.[end figure description]

liberty, I beg my lord to hold me free of all disrespect.”

“The niggardly miser! These hounds of Deurckheim
shall be made to know their master—But be
of cheer, boy; our tears and pilgrimages shall not be
wasted, and thou shalt soon wive with a fairer and
better, as becometh him I love.”

“Nay, Herr Emich, I do beseech and implore”—

“Ha! Yon is the drivelling Heinrich seated on a
rock of this ravine, like a vidette watching the marauders!
Prick forward, Berchthold, and desire my
noble friends to tarry at the Town-Hall making their
compliments;—as for thee, thou mayest humour thy
folly, and greet the smiling face of the pretty Meta,
the while.”

The Forester dashed ahead like an arrow: while
the Count reined his own courser aside, turning into
that ravine by which the path led to the Heidenmauer,
when the ascent was made from the side of
the valley. Emich was soon at the Burgomaster's
side, having thrown his bridle to a servitor that followed.

“How is this, brother Heinrich!” he cried, displeasure
disappearing in habitual policy and well
practised management—“art still bent on exorcism,
or hast neglected some offices, in yester's pilgrimage?”

“Praised be St. Benedict, or Brother Luther!—
for I know not fairly to which the merit is most due—
our Deurckheim is in a thrice happy disposition, as
touching all witchcraft, and devilry, or even churchly
miracles. This mystery of the hounds being so happily
settled, the public mind seemeth to have taken
a sudden change, and from sweating in broad daylight
at the nestling of a mouse, or the hop of a
cricket, our crones are ready to set demonology and
Lucifer himself at defiance.”

“The lucky clearing up of that difficulty will, in
sooth, do much to favour the late Saxon opinions,

[figure description] Page 237.[end figure description]

and may go near to set the monk of Wittenburg
firmly upon his feet, in our country. Thou seest,
Heinrich, that a dilemma so unriddled is worth a
library of musty Latin maxims.”

“That is it, Herr Emich, and the more especially
as we are a reasoning town. Our minds once fairly
enlightened, it is no easy matter to throw them into
the shade again. It was seen how sorely the best
of us were troubled with a couple of vagrant dogs so
lately as yesterday, and now I much question if the
whole of the gallant pack would so much as raise a
doubt! We have had a lucky escape, Lord Count,
for another day of uncertainty would have gone nigh
to set up Limburg church again, and that without
the masonry of the devil. There is nought so potent
in an argument, as a little apprehension of losses or
of plagues thrown into the scale. Wisdom weighs
light against profit or fear.”

“It is well as it is, though Limburg roof will never
again cover Limburg wall, friend Heinrich, while an
Emich rules in Hartenburg and Deurckheim.”—The
Count saw the cloud on the Burgomaster's brow as
he uttered the latter word, and slapping him familiarly
on a shoulder, he added so quickly as to prevent
reflection:—“But how now, Herr Frey; why
art at watch in this solitary ravine?”

Heinrich was flattered by the noble's condescension,
and not displeased to have a listener to his
tale. First looking about him to see that no one
could overhear their discourse, he answered on a
lower key, in the manner in which communications
that needs confidence are usually made.

“You know, Herr Emich, this weakness of Ulrike,
concerning hermitages and monks, altars and saints'
days, with all those other practices of which we
may now reasonably expect to be quit, since late
rumors speak marvels of Luther's success. Well
the good woman would have a wish to come upon

[figure description] Page 238.[end figure description]

the Heidenmauer this morning, and as there had been
some warm argument between us, and the poor wife
had wept much concerning marrying our child with
young Berchthold, a measure out of all prudence and
reason, as you must see, nobly-born Count, I was fain
willing to escort her thus far, that she might give
vent to her sorrow in godly discourse with the
hermit.”

“And Ulrike is above, in the cedars, with the anchorite?”

“As sure as I am here waiting her return, Lord
Count.”

“Thou art a gallant husband, Master Frey!—
Wert wont of old to resort much with the Herr Odo
Von Ritterstein—he who playeth this masquerade of
penitence and seclusion?”

“Sapperment!—I never could endure the arrogant!
But Ulrike fancieth he hath qualities that are
not so evil, and a woman's taste, like a child's humors,
is easiest altered by giving it scope.”

Emich laid both hands on the shoulders of his
companion, looking him full and earnestly in the face.
The glances that were exchanged in this attitude,
were pregnant with meaning. That of the Count
expressed the distrust, the contempt, and the wonder
of a man of loose life, while that of the Burgomaster,
by appearing to reflect the character of the
woman who had so long been his wife, expressed volumes
in her favor. No language could have said
more for Ulrike's principles and purity, than the
simple, hearty, and unalterable confidence of the
man who necessarily had so many opportunities of
knowing her. Neither spoke, until the Count, releasing
his grasp, walked slowly up the mountain,
saying in a voice which proved how strongly he
felt—

`I would thy consort had been noble, Heinrich!”

[figure description] Page 239.[end figure description]

“Nay, my good lord,” answered the Burgomaster,
“the wish were scarcely kind to a friend! In that
case, I could not have wived the Frau.”

“Tell me, good Heinrich—for I never heard the
history of thy love—wert thou and thy proposal
well received, when first offered to the virgin heart
of Herr Hailtzinger's daughter?”

The Burgomaster was not displeased with an opportunity
of alluding to a success that had made him
the envy of his equals.

“The end must speak for the means, Herr Count,”
he answered chuckling. “Ulrike is none of your
free and froward spirits to jump out of a window,
or to meet a youth more than half-way, but such
encouragement as becometh maiden diffidence was
not wanting, or mine own ill opinion of myself might
have kept me a bachelor to this hour.”

Emich chafed to hear such language coming from
one he so little respected, and applied to one he had
really loved. The effort to swallow his spleen produced
a short silence, of which we shall avail ourselves
to transfer the scene to the hut of the hermit,
where there was an interview that proved decisive
of the future fortunes of several of the characters
of our tale.

The day which succeeded the restoration of Berchthold
had been one of general joy and felicitation in
Deurckheim. There was an end to the doubts of
the timid and superstitious, concerning an especial
and an angry visitation from Heaven, as a merited
punishment for overturning the altars of the Abbey,
and few were so destitute of good feeling, not to
sympathize in the happiness of those who had so
bitterly mourned the fancied death of the Forester.
As is usual in cases of violent transitions, the reaction
helped to lessen the influence of the monks, and
even those most inclined to doubt, were now encouraged
to hope that the religious change, which was

[figure description] Page 240.[end figure description]

so fast gaining ground, might not produce all the horrors
that had been dreaded.

Heinrich has revealed the nature of the discussion
that took place between himself and his wife. The
latter had endeavored in vain to seize the favorable
moment to work upon the feelings of the Burgomaster,
in the interests of the lovers; but, though
sincerely glad that a youth who had shown such
mettle in danger was not the victim of his courage,
Heinrich was not of a temperament to let any admiration
of generous deeds affect the settled policy
of a whole life. It was at the close of this useless
and painful conference, that the mother suddenly
demanded permission of her husband to visit the
hermit, who had been left, as before the recent events,
in undisturbed possession of the dreaded Heidenmauer.

Any other than a man constituted like Heinrich
might, at such a moment, have heard this request
with distrust. But strong in his opinion of himself,
and accustomed to confide in his wife, the obstinate
Burgomaster hailed the application as a means of
relieving him from a discussion, in which, while he
scarce knew how plausibly to defend his opinion, he
was resolutely determined not to yield. The manner
in which he volunteered to accompany his wife,
and in which he remained patiently awaiting her
return, and the commencement of his dialogue with
Emich are known. With this short explanation, we
shall shift the scene to the hut of the Anchorite.

Odo of Ritterstein was pale with loss of blood
from the wounds received from a fragment of the
falling roof, but paler still by the force of that inward
fire which consumed him. The features of his fair
and gentle companion were not bright, as usual,
though nought could rob Ulrike of that winning
beauty, which owed so much of its charm to expression.
Both appeared agitated with what had

[figure description] Page 241.[end figure description]

already passed between them, and perhaps still more
by those feelings, which each had struggled to conceal.

“Thou hast indeed had many moving passages in
thy life, Odo,” said the gentle Ulrike, who was seemingly
listening to some recital from the other's lips;
“and this last miraculous escape from death is among
the most wonderful.”

“That I should have perished beneath the roof
of Limburg, on the anniversary of my crime, and
with the fall of those altars I violated, would have
been so just a manifestation of Heaven's displeasure,
Ulrike, that even now I can scarce believe I am permitted
to live! Thou then thought in common with
others, that I had been released from this life of
wo?”

“Thou lookest with an unthankful eye at what
thou hast of hope and favor, or thou wouldst not
use a term so ungrateful in speaking of thy sorrows.
Remember, Odo, that our joys, in this being, are
tainted with mortality, and that thy unhappiness
does not surpass that of thousands who still struggle
with their duties.”

“This is the difference between the unquiet ocean
and tranquil waters—between the oak and the reed!
The current of thy calm existence may be ruffled
by the casual interruption of some trifling obstacle,
but the gentle surface soon subsides, leaving the element
limpid and without stain! Thy course is that
of the flowing and pure spring, while mine is the
torrent's mad and turbulent leaps. Thou hast indeed
well said, Ulrike, God did not form us for each
other!”

“Whatever nature may have done towards suiting
our dispositions and desires, Odo, Providence and
the world's usages have interposed to defeat.”

The hermit gazed at the mild speaker with eyes
so fixed and dazzling, that she bowed her own look
to the earth.

[figure description] Page 242.[end figure description]

“No,” he murmured rapidly, “Heaven and earth
have different destinies—the lion and the lamb different
instincts!”

“Nay, I will none of this disreputable depreciation
of thyself, poor Odo. That thou hast been erring,
we shall not deny—for who is without reproach?—
but that thou meritest these harsh epithets,
none but thyself would venture to affirm.”

“I have met with many enigmas, Ulrike, in an
eventful and busy life—I have seen those who worked
both good and evil—encountered those who have
defeated their own ends by their own wayward
means—but never have I known one so devoted to
the right, that seemed so disposed to extenuate the
sinner's faults!”

“Then hast thou never met the true lover of God,
or known a Christian. It matters not, Odo, whether
we admit of this or that form of faith—the fruit of
the right tree is charity and self-abasement, and
these teach us to think humbly of ourselves and
kindly of others.”

“Thou began early to practise these golden rules,
or surely thou never wouldst have forgotten thine
own excellence, or have been ready to sacrifice it to
the heedless impulses of one so reckless as him to
whom thou wast betrothed!”

The eye of Ulrike grew brighter, but it was merely
because a tinge of color diffused itself on her features.

“I know not for what good purpose, Herr Von
Ritterstein,” she said, “that these allusions are now
made. You know that I have come to make a last
effort to secure the peace of Meta. Berchthold spoke
to me of your intention to reward the service he did
your life, and I have now to say, that if in ought
you can do the youth favor, the moment when it
will be most acceptable, hath come—for Lottchen
has been too sorely stricken to bear up long against
further grief.”

[figure description] Page 243.[end figure description]

The Hermit was reproved. He turned slowly to
one of his receptacles of worldly stores, and drew
forth a packet. The rattling told his companion
that it was of parchment, and she waited the result
with curious interest.

“I will scarce say, Ulrike,” he replied, “that this
deed is the price of a life that is scarce worth the gift.
Early in my acquaintance with young Berchthold
and Meta, I wrung their secret from them; and from
that moment it hath been my greatest pleasure to
devise means to secure the happiness of one so dear to
thee. I found in the child, the simple, ingenuous faith
which was so admirable in the mother, and shall I
say that reverence for the latter quickened the desire
to serve her offspring?”

“I certainly owe thee thanks, Herr Von Ritterstein,
for the constancy of this good opinion,” returned
Ulrike, showing sensibility.

“Thank me not, but rather deem the desire to
serve thy child a tribute that repentant error gladly
pays to virtue. Thou knowest that I am the last of
my race, and there remained nought but to endow
some religious house, to let my estate and gold pass
to the feudal prince, or to do this.”

“I could not have thought it easy to effect this
change, in opposition to the Elector's interests!”

“Those have been looked to; a present fine has
smoothed the way, and these parchments contain all
that is necessary to install young Berchthold as my
substitute and heir.”

“Friend!—dear, generous friend!” exclaimed the
mother, moved to tears, for, at that moment, Ulrike
saw nothing but the future happiness of her child assured,
and Berchthold restored to more than his
former hopes—“generous and noble Odo!”

The hermit arose, and placed the parchment in
her hand, in the manner of one long prepared to perform
the act.

[figure description] Page 244.[end figure description]

“And now, Ulrike,” he said with a forced calm,
“this solemn and imperative duty done, there remaineth
but the last leave-taking.”

“Leave-taking!—Thou wilt live with Meta and
Berchthold,—the castle of Ritterstein will be thy
resting-place, after so much sorrow and suffering!”

“This may not be—my vow—my duties—Ulrike,
I fear, my prudence forbids.”

“Thy prudence!—Thou art no longer young,
dear Odo,—privations thou hast hitherto despised
will overload thy increasing years, and we shall not
be happy with the knowledge that thou art suffering
for the very conveniences which thine own liberality
hath conferred on others.”

“Habit hath taken nature's place, and the hermitage
and the camp are no longer strangers to me.
If thou wouldst secure not only my peace, but my
salvation, Ulrike, let me depart. I have already lingered
too long near a scene which is filled with recollections
that prove dread enemies to the penitent.”

Ulrike recoiled, and her cheek blanched to paleness.
Every limb trembled, for that quick sympathy,
which neither time nor duty had entirely extinguished,
silently admonished her of his meaning. There
was a fervor in his voice, too, that thrilled on her
ear like tones which, spite of all her care, the truant
imagination would sometimes recall; for, in no subsequent
condition of life, can a woman entirely forget
the long cherished sounds with which true love
first greets the maiden ear.

“Odo,” said a voice so gentle that it caused the
heart of the anchorite to beat, “when dost thou think
to depart?”

“This day—this hour—this minute.”

“I believe—yes,—thou art right to go!”

“Ulrike, God will keep thee in mind. Pray often
for me.”

“Farewell, dear Odo.”

[figure description] Page 245.[end figure description]

“God bless thee—may he have mercy on me!”

There was then a short pause. The hermit approached
and lifted his hands in the attitude of benediction;
twice he seemed about to clasp the unresisting
Ulrike to his bosom, but her meek, tearful
countenance repressed the act, and, muttering a
prayer, he rushed from the hut. Left to herself,
Ulrike sank on a stool, and remained like an image
of wo, tears flowing in streams down her cheeks.

Some minutes elapsed before the wife of Heinrich
Frey was aroused from her forgetfulness. Then
the approach of footsteps told her that she was no
longer alone. For the first time in her life, Ulrike
endeavored to conceal her emotion with a sentiment
of shame: but ere this could be effected, the Count
and Heinrich entered.

“What hast done with poor Odo Von Ritterstein,
good Frau; that man of sin and sorrow?” demanded
the latter, in his hearty, unsuspecting manner.

“He has left us, Heinrich.”

“For his castle!—well, the man hath had his
share of sorrow, and ease may not yet come too
late. The life of Odo, Lord Count, hath not been,
like our own histories, of a nature to make him content.
Had that affair of the host, though at the
best but an irreverent and unwarrantable act, happened
in these days, less might have been thought
of it; and then, (tapping his wife's cheek) to lose
Ulrike's favor was no slight calamity of itself.—But
what have we here?”

“Tis a deed, by which the Herr Von Ritterstein
invests Berchthold with his worldly effects.”

The Burgomaster hastily unfolded the ample
parchment. At a glance, though unable to comprehend
the Latin of the instrument, his accustomed eye
saw that all the usual appliances were there.
Turning suddenly to Emich, for he was not slow to
comprehend the cause of the gift, he exclaimed—

[figure description] Page 246.[end figure description]

“Here is manna in the wilderness! Our differences
are all happily settled, nobly-born Count, and
next to according the hand of Meta to the owner of
the lands of Ritterstein, I hold it a pleasure to oblige
an illustrious friend and patron. Henceforth, Herr
Emich, let there be nought but fair words between
us.”

Since entering the hut, the Count had not spoken.
His look had studied the tearful eyes, and colorless
cheeks of Ulrike, and he put his own constructions on
the scene. Still he did the fair wife of the burgher
justice, for, though less credulous than Heinrich on
the subject of his consort's affections, he too well
knew the spotless character of her mind, to change
the opinion her virtue had extorted from him, in
early youth. He accepted the conditions of his
friend, with as much apparent frankness as they
were offered, and, after a few short explanations, the
whole party left the Heidenmauer together.

Our task is ended. On the following day Berchthold
and Meta were united. The Castle and the
Town vied with each other doing in honor to the
nuptials, and Ulrike and Lottchen endeavored to
forget their own permanent causes of sorrow in the
happiness of their children.

In due time Berchthold took possession of his lands,
removing with his bride and mother to the Castle of
Ritterstein, which he always affected to hold merely
as the trustee of its absent owner. Gottlob was promoted
in his service, and having succeeded in persuading
Gisela to forget the gay cavalier who had frequented
Hartenburg, these two wayward spirits
settled down into a half-loving, half-wrangling couple,
for the rest of their lives.

Deurckheim, as is commonly the case with the
secondary actors in most great changes, shared the
fate of the frogs in the fable; it got rid of the Benedictines
for a new master, and though the

[figure description] Page 247.[end figure description]

Burgomaster and Dietrich, in after life, had many wise
discourses concerning the nature of the revolution of
Limburg, as the first affected to call the destruction
of the Abbey, he never could very clearly explain to
the understanding of the latter, the great principles
of its merits. Still the smith was not the less an admirer
of the Count, and to this day his descendants
show the figure of a marble cherub, as a trophy
brought away by their ancestor on that occasion.

Bonifacius and his monks found shelter in other
convents, each endeavoring to lessen the blow, by
such expedients as best suited his tastes and character.
The pious Arnolph persevered to the end, and,
believing charity to be the fairest attribute of the
Christian, he never ceased to pray for the enemies
of the church, or to toil that they might have the
benefit of his intercession.

As for Odo Von Ritterstein, the country was long
moved by different tales of his fate. One rumor—
and it had much currency—said he was serving in
company with Albrecht of Viderbach, who rejoined
his brother knights, and that he died on the sands of
Africa. But there is another tradition extant in the
Jaergethal, touching his end. It it is said, that, thirty
years later, after Heinrich, and Emich of Leiningen,
and most of the other actors of this legend, had been
called to their great accounts, an aged wanderer
came to the gate of Ritterstein, demanding shelter
for the night. He is reported to have been well received
by Meta, her husband and son being then
absent in the wars, and to have greatly interested
his hostess, by the histories he gave of customs and
events in distant regions. Pleased with her guest,
the Madame Von Ritterstein (for Berchthold had
purchased this appellation by his courage) urged
him to rest himself another day within her walls.
From communicating, the stranger began to inquire;
and he so knew how to put his questions, that he soon

[figure description] Page 248.[end figure description]

obtained the history of the family. Ulrike was the
last he named; and the younger female inmates of
the castle fancied that his manner changed as he
listened to the account of the close of her life, and
of her peaceful and pious end. The stranger departed
that very day, nor would his visit probably
have been remembered, had not his body been shortly
after found in the hut of the Heidenmauer, stiffened
by death. Those who love to throw a coloring
of romance over the affections, are fond of believing
this was the Hermit, who had found a secret satisfaction,
even at the close of so long a life, in breathing
his last on the spot where he had finally separated
from the woman he had so long and fruitlessly
loved.

To this tradition—true or false—we attach no
importance. Our object has been to show, by a
rapidly-traced picture of life, the reluctant manner
in which the mind of man abandons old, to receive
new, impressions—the inconsistencies between profession
and practice—the error in confounding the
good with the bad, in any sect or persuasion—the
common and governing principles that control the
selfish, under every shade and degree of existence—
and the high and immutable qualities of the good,
the virtuous, and of the really noble.