And here my gracious Prince will say—"O Theodore, this matter surely might have been passed over, since it brings a disrespect upon my princely house."

I answer—"Gracious Lord and Prince, my most humble services are due to your Grace, but truth must be still truth, however it may displease your Highness. Besides, by no other act could I have so well proved the infernal evil in this woman's nature; for if she could dare to lay her godless hand upon one of your illustrious race, then all her future acts are perfectly comprehensible. [Footnote: Note by Duke Bogislaff XIV.—This is true, and therefore I consent to let it remain; and I remember that Prince Casimir told me long afterwards that the scene remained indelibly impressed on his memory. "For," he said, "the wild eyes and the terrible voice of the witch frightened me more even than her cruel hand; as if even there I detected the devil in her, though I was but a little boy at the time."] When the malicious wretch let the boy go, he darted out of the room and ran down the whole corridor, screaming out that he would tell his mamma about Sidonia; but Zitsewitz met him, and having heard the story, the amorous old fool took him up in his arms, and promised him heaps of beautiful things if he would hold his tongue and not say a word more to any one, and that he would give Sidonia a good whipping himself, in return for what she had done to him. So, in short, her Grace never heard of the insult until after Sidonia's departure from court."

Had her Highness been in her apartment, she must have heard the child scream; but it so happened that just then she was walking up and down the ducal gardens, whither she had gone to cool her anger.

Soon after a stately ship was seen sailing down the river from Penemunde, [Footnote: A town in Pomerania.] which attracted all eyes in the castle, for on the deck stood a noble youth, with a heron's plume waving from his cap, and he held a tame sea-gull upon his hand, which from time to time flew off and dived into the water, bringing up all sorts of fish, great and small, in its beak, with which it immediately flew back to the handsome youth.

"Ah!" exclaimed Clara, "there must be the sons of our gracious Princess! for to-morrow is her birthday, and here comes the noble bishop, Johann Frederick of Camyn, and his brother, Duke Bogislaff XIII., to pay their respects to their gracious mother."

Her Grace, however, would scarcely credit that the handsome youth who was fishing after so elegant a manner was indeed her own beloved son; but Clara clapped her hands now, crying, "Look! your Grace—look! there is the flag hoisted!" And indeed there fluttered from the mast now the bishop's own arms. So the warder blew his horn, which was answered by the warder of St. Peter's in the town, and the bells in all the towers rang out, and the castellan ordered the cannon in the courtyard to be fired off.

Her Grace was now thoroughly convinced, and weeping for joy, ran down to the little water-gate, where old Ulrich already stood waiting to receive the princes. As the vessel approached, however, they discovered that the handsome youth was not the bishop, but Duke Bogislaff, who had been staying on a visit at his brother's court at Camyn, along with several high prelates. The bishop, Johann Frederick, did not accompany him, for he was obliged to remain at home, in order to receive a visit from the Prince of Brandenburg.

When the Duke stepped on shore he embraced his weeping mother joyfully, and said he came to offer her his congratulations on her birthday, and that she must not weep but laugh, for there should be a dance in honour of it, and a right merry feast at the castle on the morrow.

Then he tumbled out on the bridge all the fish which the bird had caught; and her Grace wondered greatly, and stroked it as it sat upon the shoulder of the Prince. So he asked if the bird pleased her Grace, and when she answered "Yes," he said, "Then, dearest mother, let it be my birthday gift to you. I have trained it myself, and tried it here, as you see, upon the river. So any afternoon that you and your ladies choose to amuse yourselves with a sail, this bird will fish for you as long as you please, while you row down the river."

Ah, what a good son was this handsome young Duke!—and when I think that Sidonia murdered them all—all—even this noble Prince, my heart seems to break, and the pen falls from my fingers. [Footnote: Note by Duke Bogislaff XIV.—Et quid mihi, misero filio? Domine in manus tuas commando spiritum meum, quia tu me redemisti fide Deus! (And what remains to me, wretched son? Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit, for Thou hast redeemed me, Thou God of truth.)—When one thinks that it was the general belief in that age that the whole ducal race had been destroyed and blasted by Sidonia's sorceries, it is impossible not to be affected by these melancholy yet resigned and Christian words of the last orphaned and childless representative of the ancient and illustrious house of Wolgast.]

But to continue. The Duchess embraced the fine young Prince, who still continued talking of the dance they must have next day. It was time now for his gracious mother to give up mourning for her deceased lord, he said.

But her Grace would not hear of a dance; and replied that she would continue to mourn for her dear lord all the rest of her life, to whom she had been wedded by Doctor Martinus. However, the Duke repeated his entreaties, and all the young nobles added theirs, and finally Prince Ernest besought her Grace not to deny them permission to have a festival on the morrow, as it was to honour her birthday. So she at last consented; but old Ulrich shook his head, and took her Grace aside to warn her of the scandal which would assuredly arise when the young nobles had drunk and grew excited by Sidonia. Hereupon her Grace made answer that she would take care Sidonia should cause no scandal—"As she has refused to learn her catechism, she must not appear at the feast. It will be a fitting punishment to keep her a prisoner for the whole day, and therefore I shall lock her up myself in her own room, and put the key in my pocket."

So Ulrich was well pleased, and all separated for the night with much contentment and hopes of enjoyment on the morrow.



CHAPTER XII.

Of Appelmann's knavery—Item, how the birthday of her Highness was celebrated, and Sidonia managed to get to the dance, with the uproar caused thereby.

Before I proceed further, it will be necessary to state what happened a few days before concerning Prince Ernest's chief equerry, Johann Appelmann, otherwise many might doubt the facts I shall have to relate, though God knows I speak the pure truth.

One came to his lordship the Grand Chamberlain—he was a shoemaker of the town—and complained to him of Appelmann, who had been courting his daughter for a long while, and running after her until finally he had disgraced her in the eyes of the whole town, and brought shame and scandal into his house. So he prayed Lord Ulrich to make the shameless profligate take his daughter to wife, as he had fairly promised her marriage long ago.

Now Ulrich had long suspected the knave of bad doings, for many pearls and jewels had lately been missing from her Grace's shabrack and horse-trappings, and the groom, who always laid them on her Grace's white palfrey, knew nothing about them, though he was even put to the torture; but as Appelmann had all these things in his sole keeping, it was natural to think that he was not quite innocent. Besides, three hundred sacks of oats were missing on the new year, and no one knew what had become of them.

Therefore Ulrich sent for the cheating rogue, and upbraided him with his profligate courses, also telling him that he must wed the shoemaker's daughter immediately. But the cunning knave knew better, and swore by all the saints that he was innocent, and finally prevailed upon Prince Ernest to intercede for him, so that Ulrich promised to give him a little longer grace, but then assuredly he would bring him to a strict account.

And Appelmann drove the Prince that same day to Grypswald, to find out more musicians for the castle band, as the march of Duke Bogislaff the Great was to be played by eighty drums and forty trumpets in the grand ducal hall, to honour the birthday of her Highness.

One can imagine what Sidonia felt when the Duchess announced that as she had refused to learn the catechism, and was neither obedient to God nor her Grace, she should remain a strict prisoner in her own room during the festival, as a signal punishment for her ungodly behaviour. But her maid might bring her food of all that she chose from the feast.

Sidonia first prayed her Grace to forgive her for the love of God, and she would learn the whole catechism by heart. But as this had no effect, then she wept and lamented loudly, and at length fell down upon her knees before her Grace, who would, however, be neither moved nor persuaded; and when Sidonia threatened at last to leave her room, the Duchess went out, locked the door, and put the key in her pocket. The prisoner howled enough then, I warrant.

But what did she do now, the cunning minx? She gave her maid a piece of gold, and told her to go up and down the corridor, crying and wringing her hands, and when any one asked what was the matter, to say, "That her beautiful young lady was dying of grief, because the Duchess had locked her up, like a little school-girl, in her own room, and all for not knowing the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius, which indeed was not taught in her part of the country, but another, which she had learned quite well in her childhood. And so for this, her poor young lady was not to be allowed to dance at the festival." The maid was to say all this in particular to Prince Ernest; or if he did not pass through the corridor, she was to stop weeping and groaning at his chamber-door, until he came out to ask what was the matter.

The maid followed the instructions right well, and in less than an hour every soul in the castle, down to the cooks and washerwomen, knew what had happened, and everywhere the Duchess went she was assailed by old and young, great and small, with petitions of pardon for Sidonia.

Her Grace, however, bid them all be silent, and threatened if they made such shameless requests to forbid the festival altogether. But when Prince Ernest likewise petitioned in her favour, she was angry, and said, "He ought to be ashamed of himself. It was now plain what a fool the girl had made of him. Her maternal heart would break, she knew it would—and this day would be one of sorrow in place of joy to her; all on account of this girl."

So the young Prince had to hold his peace for this time; but he sent a message, nevertheless, to Sidonia, telling her not to fret, for that he would take her out of her room and bring her to the dance, let what would happen.

Next morning, by break of day, the whole castle and town were alive with preparations for the festival. It was now seven years—that is, since the death of Duke Philip—since any one had danced in the castle except the rats and mice, and even yet the splendour of this festival is talked of in Wolgast; and many of the old people yet living there remember it well, and gave me many curious particulars thereof, which I shall set down here, that it may be known how such affairs were conducted in old time at our ducal courts.

In the morning, by ten of the clock, the young princes, nobles, clergy, and the honourable counsellors of the town, assembled in the grand ducal hall, built by Duke Philip after the great fire, and which extended up all through the three stories of the castle. At the upper end of the hall was the grand painted window, sixty feet high, on which was delineated the pilgrimage of Duke Bogislaff the Great to Jerusalem, all painted by Gerard Homer; [Footnote: A Frieslander, and the most celebrated painter on glass of his time.] and round on the walls banners, and shields, and helmets, and cuirasses, while all along each side, four feet from the ground, there were painted on the walls figures of all the animals found in Pomerania: bears, wolves, elks, stags, deer, otters, &c., all exquisitely imitated.

When all the lords had assembled, the drums beat and trumpets sounded, whereupon the Pomeranian marshal flung open the great doors of the hall, which were wreathed with flowers from the outside, and the princely widow entered with great pomp, leading the little Casimir by the hand. She was arrayed in the Pomeranian costume—namely, a white silk under-robe, and over it a surcoat of azure velvet, brocaded with silver, and open in front. A long train of white velvet, embroidered in golden laurel wreaths, was supported by twelve pages dressed in black velvet cassocks with Spanish ruffs. Upon her head the Duchess wore a coif of scarlet velvet with small plumes, from which a white veil, spangled with silver stars, hung down to her feet. Round her neck she had a scarlet velvet band, twisted with a gold chain; and from it depended a balsam flask, in the form of a greyhound, which rested on her bosom.

As her Serene Highness entered with fresh and blushing cheeks, all bowed low and kissed her hand, glittering with diamonds. Then each offered his congratulations as best he could.

Amongst them came Johann Neander, Archdeacon of St. Peter's, who was seeking preferment, considering that his present living was but a poor one; and so he presented her Grace with a printed tractatum dedicated to her Highness, in which the question was discussed whether the ten virgins mentioned in Matt. xxv. were of noble or citizen rank. But Doctor Gerschovius made a mock of him for this afterwards, before the whole table. [Footnote: Over these exegetical disquisitions of a former age we smile, and with reason; but we, pedantic Germans, have carried our modern exegetical mania to such absurd lengths, that we are likely to become as much a laughing-stock to our contemporaries, as well as to posterity, as this Johannes Neander. In fact, our exegetists are mostly pitiful schoolmasters—word-anatomists—and one could as little learn the true spirit of an old classic poet from our pedantic philologists, as the true sense of holy Scripture from our scholastic theologians. What with their grammar twistings, their various readings, their dubious punctuations, their mythical, and who knows what other meanings, their hair-splittings, and prosy vocable tiltings, we find at last that they are willing to teach us everything but that which really concerns us, and, like the Danaides, they let the water of life run through the sieve of their learning. We may apply to them truly that condemnation of our Lord's (Matt, xxiii. 24)—"Ye blind guides; ye strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel."]

Now, when all the congratulations were over, the Duchess asked Prince Ernest if the water-works in the courtyard had been completed, [Footnote: The Prince took much interest in hydraulics, and built a beautiful and costly aqueduct for the town of Wolgast.] and when he answered "Yes," "Then," quoth her Grace, "they shall run with Rostock beer to-day, if it took fifty tuns; for all my people, great and small, shall keep festival to-day; and I have ordered my court baker to give a loaf of bread and a good drink to every one that cometh and asketh. And now, as it is fitting, let us present ourselves in the church."

So the bells rung, and the whole procession swept through the corridor and down the great stairs, with drums and trumpets going before. Then followed the marshal with his staff, and the Grand Chamberlain, Ulrich von Schwerin, wearing his beautiful hat (a present from her Highness), looped up with a diamond aigrette, and spangled with little golden stars. Then came the Duchess, supported on each side by the young princes, her sons; and the nobles, knights, pages, and others brought up the rear, according to their rank and dignity.

As they passed Sidonia's room, she began to beat the door and cry like a little spoiled child; but no one minded her, and the procession moved on to the courtyard, where the soldatesca fired a salute, not only from their muskets, but also from the great cannon called "the Old Aunt," which gave forth a deep joy-sigh. From all the castle windows hung banners and flags bearing the arms of Pomerania and Saxony, and the pavement was strewed with flowers.

As they passed Sidonia's window she opened it, and appeared magnificently attired, and glittering with pearls and diamonds, but also weeping bitterly. At this sight old Ulrich gnashed his teeth for rage, but all the young men, and Prince Ernest in particular, felt their hearts die in them for sorrow. So they passed on through the great north gate out on the castle wall, from whence the whole town and harbour were visible. Here the flags fluttered from the masts and waved from the towers, and the people clapped their hands and cried "Huzza!" (for in truth they had heard about the beer, to my thinking, before the Princess came out upon the walls). Summa: There was never seen such joy; and after having service in church, they all returned to the castle in the same order, and set themselves down to the banquet.

I got a list of the courses at the table of the Duchess from old Kuessow, and I shall here set it down, that people may see how our fathers banqueted eighty years ago in Pomerania; but, God help us! in these imperial days there is little left for us to grind our teeth upon. So smell thereat, and you will still get a delicious savour from these good old times.

First Course.—1. A soup; 2. An egg-soup, with saffron, peppercorns, and honey thereon; 3. Stewed mutton, with onions strewed thereon; 4. A roasted capon, with stewed plums.

Second Course.—1. Ling, with oil and raisins; 2. Beef, baked in oil; 3. Eels, with pepper; 4. Dried fish, with Leipsic mustard.

Third Course.—1. A salad, with eggs; 2. Jellies strewed with almond and onion seed; 3. Omelettes, with honey and grapes; 4. Pastry, and many other things besides.

Fourth Course.—1. A roast goose with red beet-root, olives, capers, and cucumbers; 2. Little birds fried in lard, with radishes; 3. Venison; 4. Wild boar, with the marrow served on toasted rolls. In conclusion, all manner of pastry, with fritters, cakes, and fancy confectionery of all kinds.

So her Grace selected something from each dish herself, and despatched it to Sidonia by her maid; but the maiden would none of them, and sent all back with a message that she had no heart to gormandise and feast; but her Grace might send her some bread and water, which was alone fitting for a poor prisoner to receive.

The young men could bear this no longer, their patience was quite exhausted, and their courage rose as the wine-cups were emptied. So at length Prince Ernest whispered to his brother Bogislaus to put in a good word for Sidonia. He refused, however, and Prince Ernest was ashamed to name her himself; but some of the young pages who waited on her Grace were bold enough to petition for her pardon, whereupon her Grace gave them a very sharp reproof.

After dinner the Duchess and Prince Bogislaus went up the stream in a pleasure-boat to try the tame sea-gull, and her Grace requested Lord Ulrich to accompany them. But he answered that he was more necessary to the castle that evening than a night-watch in a time of war, particularly if the young Prince was to have Rostock beer play from the fountains in place of water.

And soon his words came true, for when the Duchess had sailed away the young men began to drink in earnest, so that the wine ran over the threshold down the great steps, and the peasants and boors who were going back and forward with dried wood to the ducal kitchen, lay down flat on their faces, and licked up the wine from the steps (but the Almighty punished them for this, I think, for their children now are glad enough to sup up water with the geese).

Meanwhile many of the youths sprang up, swearing that they would free Sidonia; others fell down quite drunk, and knew nothing more of what happened. Then old Ulrich flew to the corridor, and marched up and down with his drawn dagger in his hand, and swore he would arrest them all if they did not keep quiet; that as to those who were lying dead drunk like beasts, he must treat them like other beasts—whereupon he sends to the castle fountain for buckets of cold water, and pours it over them. Ha! how they sprang up and raged when they felt it; but he only laughed and said—if they would not hold their peace he would treat them still worse; they ought to be ashamed of their filthiness and debauchery. [Footnote: Almost all writers of that age speak of the excesses to which intoxication was carried in all the ducal courts, but particularly that of Pomerania.]

But now to the uproar within was added one from without, for when the fountains began to play with Rostock beer, all the town ran thither, and drank like leeches, while they begged the serving-wenches to bring them loaves to eat with it. How the old shoemaker threw up his cap in the air, and shouted—"Long live her Grace! no better Princess was in the whole world—they hoped her Grace might live for many years and celebrate every birthday like this!" Then they would pray for her right heartily, and the women chattered and cackled, and the children screamed so that no one could hear a word that was saying, and Sidonia tried for a long time in vain to make them hear her. At last she waved a white kerchief from the window, when the noise ceased for a little, and she then began the old song, namely, "Would they release her?"

Now there were some brave fellows among them to whom she had given drink-money, or purchased goods from, and they now ran to fetch a ladder and set it up against the wall; but old Ulrich got wind of this proceeding, and dispersed the mob forthwith, menacing Sidonia, before their faces, that if she but wagged a finger, and did not instantly retire from the window, and bear her well-merited punishment patiently, he would have her carried straightway through the guard-room, and locked up in the bastion tower. This threat succeeded, and she drew in her head. Meantime the Duchess returned from fishing, but when she beheld the crowd she entered through the little water-gate, and went up a winding stair to her own apartment, to attire herself for the dance.

The musicians now arrived from Grypswald, and all the knights and nobles were assembled except Zitsewitz, who lay sick, whether from love or jealousy I leave undecided; so the great affair at length began, and in the state hall the band struck up Duke Bogislaus' march, played, in fact, by eighty drums and forty-three trumpets, so that it was as mighty and powerful in sound as if the great trumpet itself had played it, and the plaster dropped off from the ceiling, and the picture of his Highness the Duke, in the north window, was so disturbed by the vibration, that it shook and clattered as if it were going to descend from the frame and dance with the guests in the hall, and not only the folk outside danced to the music, but down in the town, in the great market-place, and beyond that, even in the horse-market, the giant march was heard, and every one danced to it whether in or out of the house, and cheered and huzzaed. Now the Prince could no longer repress his feelings, for, besides that he had taken a good Pomeranian draught that day, and somewhat rebelled against his lady mother, he now flung the fourth commandment to the winds (never had he done this before), and taking three companions with him, by name Dieterich von Krassow, Joachim von Budde, and Achim von Weyer, he proceeded with them to the chamber of Sidonia, and with great violence burst open the door. There she lay on the bed weeping, in a green velvet robe, laced with gold, and embroidered with other golden ornaments, and her head was crowned with pearls and diamonds, so that the young Prince exclaimed, "Dearest Sidonia, you look like a king's bride. See, I keep my word; come now, and we shall dance together in the hall."

Here he would willingly have kissed her, but was ashamed because the others were by, so he said, "Go ye now to the hall and see if the dance is still going on. I will follow with the maiden." Thereat the young men laughed, because they saw well that the Prince did not just then desire their company, and they all went away, except Joachim von Budde, the rogue, who crept behind the door, and peeped through the crevice.

Now, the young lord was no sooner left alone with Sidonia than he pressed her to his heart—"Did she love him? She must say yes once again." Whereupon she clasped his neck with her little hands, and with every kiss that he gave her she murmured, "Yes, yes, yes!" "Would she be his own dear wife?" "Ah, if she dared. She would have no other spouse, no, not even if the Emperor came himself with all the seven electors. But he must not make her more miserable than she was already. What could they do? he never would be allowed to marry her." "He would manage that." Then he pressed her again to his heart, with such ardour that the knave behind the door grew jealous, and springing up, called out—"If his Highness wishes for a dance he must come now."

When they both entered the hall, her Grace was treading a measure with old Ulrich, but he caught sight of them directly, and without making a single remark, resigned the hand of her Grace to Prince Bogislaus, and excused himself, saying that the noise of the music had made his head giddy, and that he must leave the hall for a little. He ran then along the corridor down to the courtyard, from thence to the guard, and commanded the officer with his troop, along with the executioner and six assistants, to be ready to rush into the hall with lighted matches, the moment he waved his hat with the white plumes from the window.

When he returns, the dance is over, and my gracious lady, suspecting nothing as yet, sits in a corner and fans herself. Then Ulrich takes Sidonia in one hand and Prince Ernest in the other, brings them up straight before her Highness, and asks if she had herself given permission for the Prince and Sidonia to dance together in the hall. Her Highness started from her chair when she beheld them, her cheeks glowing with anger, and exclaimed, "What does this mean? Have you dared to release Sidonia?"

Ille.—"Yes; for this noble maiden has been treated worse than a peasant-girl by my lady mother."

Illa.—"Oh, woe is me! this is my just punishment for having forgotten my Philip so soon, and even consenting to tread a measure in the hall." So she wept, and threw herself again upon the seat, covering her face with both hands.

Now old Ulrich began. "So, my young Prince, this is the way you keep the admonitions that your father, of blessed memory, gave you on his death-bed! Fie—shame on you! Did you not give your promise also to me, the old man before you? Sidonia shall return to her chamber, if my word has yet some power in Pomerania. Speak, gracious lady, give the order, and Sidonia shall be carried back to her room."

When Sidonia heard this, she laid her white hand, all covered with jewels, upon the old man's arm, and looked up at him with beseeching glances, and stroked his beard after her manner, crying, with tears of anguish, "Spare a poor young maiden! I will learn anything you tell me; I will repeat it all on Sunday. Only do not deal so hardly with me." But the little hands for once had no effect, nor the tears, nor the caresses; for Ulrich, throwing her off, gave her such a slap in the face that she uttered a loud cry and fell to the ground.

If a firebrand had fallen into a barrel of gunpowder, it could not have caused a greater explosion in the hall than that cry; for after a short pause, in which every one stood silent as if thunderstruck, there arose from all the nobles, young and old, the terrible war-cry—"Jodute! Jodute! [Footnote: The learned have puzzled their heads a great deal over the etymology of this enigmatical word, which is identical in meaning with the terrible "Zettergeschrei" of the Reformation era. It is found in the Swedish, Gothic, and Low German dialects, and in the Italian Goduta. One of the best essays on the subject—which, however, leads to no result—the lover of antiquarian researches will find in Hakeus's "Pomeranian Provincial Papers," vol. v. p. 207.] to arms, to arms!" and the cry was re-echoed till the whole hall rung with it. Whoever had a dagger or a sword drew it, and they who had none ran to fetch one. But the Prince would at once have struck old Ulrich to the heart, if his brother Bogislaus had not sprung on him from behind and pinioned his arms. Then Joachim von Budde made a pass at the old knight, and wounded him in the hand. So Ulrich changed his hat from the right hand to the left, and still kept retreating till he could gain the window and give the promised sign to the guard, crying as he fought his way backward, step by step, "Come on now—come on, Ernest. Murder the old grey-headed man whom thy father called friend—murder him, as thou wilt murder thy mother this night."

Then reaching the window, he waved his hat until the sign was answered; then sprang forward again, seized Sidonia by the hand, crying, "Out, harlot!" Hereupon young Lord Ernest screamed still louder, "Jodute! Jodute! Down with the grey-headed villain! What! will not the nobles of Pomerania stand by their Prince? Down with the insolent grey-beard who has dared to call my princely bride a harlot!" And so he tore himself from his brother's grasp, and sprang upon the old man; but her Grace no sooner perceived his intention than she rushed between them, crying, "Hold! hold! hold! for the sake of God, hold! He is thy second father." And as the young Prince recoiled in horror, she seized Sidonia rapidly, and pushing her before Ulrich towards the door, cried, "Out with the accursed harlot!" But Joachim Budde, who had already wounded the Grand Chamberlain, now seizing a stick from one of the drummers, hit her Grace such a blow on the arm therewith that she had to let go her hold of Sidonia. When old Ulrich beheld this, he screamed, "Treason! treason!" and rushed upon Budde. But all the young nobles, who were now fully armed, surrounded the old man, crying, "Down with him! down with him!" In vain he tried to reach a bench from whence he could defend himself against his assailants; in a few moments he was overpowered by numbers and fell upon the floor. Now, indeed, it was all over with him, if the soldatesca had not at that instant rushed into the hall with fierce shouts, and Master Hansen the executioner, in his long red cloak, with six assistants accompanying them.

"Help! help!" cried her Grace; "help for the Lord Chamberlain!"

So they sprang to the centre of the hall where he was lying, dashed aside his assailants, and lifted up the old man from the floor with his hand all bleeding.

But Joachim Budde, who was seated on the very same bench which Ulrich had in vain tried to reach, began to mock the old knight. Whereupon Ulrich asked if it were he who had struck her Grace with the drumstick. "Ay," quoth he, laughing, "and would that she had got more of it for treating that darling, sweet, beautiful Sidonia no better than a kitchen wench. Where is the old hag now? I will teach her the catechism with my drumstick, I warrant you."

And he was going to rise, when Ulrich made a sign to the executioner, who instantly dropped his red cloak, under which he had hitherto concealed his long sword, and just as Joachim looked up to see what was going on, he whirled the sword round like a flash of lightning, and cut Budde's head clean off from the shoulders, so that not even a quill of his Spanish ruff was disturbed, and the blood spouted up like three horse-tails to the ceiling (for he drank so much that all the blood was in his head), and down tumbled his gay cap, with the heron's plume, to the ground, and his head along with it.

In an instant all was quietness; for though some of the ladies fainted, amongst whom was her Grace, and others rushed out of the hall, still there was such a silence that when the corpse fell down at length heavily upon the ground the clap of the hands and feet upon the floor was quite audible.

When Ulrich observed that his victory was complete, he waved his hat in the air, exclaiming, "The princely house of Pomerania is saved! and, as long as I live, its honour shall never be tarnished for the sake of a harlot! Remove Prince Ernest and Sidonia to separate prisons. Let the rest go their ways;—this devil's festival is at an end, and with my consent, there shall never be another in Wolgast."



CHAPTER XIII.

How Sidonia is sent away to Stettin—Item, of the young lord's dangerous illness, and what happened in consequence.

Now the Grand Chamberlain was well aware that no good would result from having Sidonia brought to a public trial, because the whole court was on her side.

Therefore he called Marcus Bork, her cousin, to him in the night, and bid him take her and her luggage away next morning before break of day, and never stop or stay until they reached Duke Barnim's court at Stettin. The wind was half-way round now, and before nightfall they might reach Oderkruge. He would first just write a few lines to his Highness; and when Marcus had made all needful preparation, let him come here to his private apartment and receive the letter. He had selected him for the business because he was Sidonia's cousin, and also because he was the only young man at the castle whom the wanton had not ensnared in her toils.

But that night Ulrich had reason to know that Sidonia and her lovers were dangerous enemies; for just as he had returned to his little room, and seated himself down at the table, to write to his Grace of Stettin the whole business concerning Sidonia, the window was smashed, and a large stone came plump down upon the ink-bottle close beside him, and stained all the paper. As Ulrich went out to call the guard, Appelmann, the equerry, came running up to him, complaining that his lordship's beautiful horse was lying there in the stable groaning like a human creature, for that some wretches had cut its tail clean off.

Ille.—"Were any of the grooms in the stable lately? or had he seen any one go by the window?"

Hic.—"No; it was impossible to see any one, on account of the darkness; but he thought he had heard some one creeping along by the wall."

Ille.—"Let him come then, fetch a lantern, and summon all the grooms; he would give it to the knaves. Had he heard anything of her Highness recently?"

Hic.—"A maid told him that her Grace was better, and had retired to rest."

Ille.—"Thank God. Now they might go."

But as they proceeded along the corridor, which was now almost quite dark, the old knight suddenly received such a blow upon his hat that the beautiful aigrette was broken, and he himself thrown against the wall with such violence that he lay a quarter of an hour insensible; then he shook his grey head. What could that mean? Had Appelmann seen any one?

Hic.—"Ah! no; but he thought he heard steps, as if of some one running away."

So they went on to the ducal stables, but nothing was to be seen or heard. The grooms knew nothing about the matter—the guard knew nothing. Then the old knight lamented over his beautiful horse, and told Appelmann to ride next morning, with Marcus Bork and Sidonia, to the Duke's castle at Stettin, and purchase the piebald mare for him from his Grace, about which they had been bargaining some time back; but he must keep all this secret, for the young nobles were to know nothing of the journey.

Ah, what fine fun this is for the cunning rogue. "If his lordship would only give him the purse, he would bring him back a far finer horse than that which some knaves had injured." Whereupon the old knight went down to reckon out the rose-nobles—but, lo! a stone comes whizzing past him close to his head, so that if it had touched him, methinks the old man would never have spoken a word more. In short, wherever he goes, or stops, or stands, stones and buffets are rained down upon him, so that he has to call the guard to accompany him back to his chamber; but he lays the saddle on the right horse at last, as you shall hear in another place.

After some hours everything became quiet in the castle, for the knaves were glad enough to sleep off their drunkenness. And so, early in the morning before dawn, while they were all snoring in their beds, Sidonia was carried off, scream as she would along the corridor, and even before the young knight's chamber; not a soul heard her. For she had not been brought to the prison tower, as at first commanded, but to her own little chamber, likewise the young lord to his; for the Grand Chamberlain thought afterwards this proceeding would not cause such scandal.

But there truly was great grief in the castle when they all rose, and the cry was heard that Sidonia was gone; and some of the murderous lords threatened to make the old man pay with his blood for it. Item, no sooner was it day than Dr. Gerschovius ran in, crying that some of the young profligates had broken all his windows the night before, and turned a goat into the rectory, with the catechism of his dear and learned brother tied round his neck.

Then old Ulrich's anger increased mightily, as might be imagined, and he brought the priest with him to the Duchess, who had got but little rest that night, and was busily turning her wheel with the little clock-work, and singing to it, in a loud, clear voice, that beautiful psalm (120th)—"In deep distress I oft have cried." She paused when they entered, and began to weep. "Was it not all prophesied? Why had she been persuaded to throw off her mourning, and slight the memory of her loved Philip? It was for this the wrath of God had come upon her house; for assuredly the Lord would avenge the innocent blood that had been shed."

Then Ulrich answered that, as her Grace knew, he had earnestly opposed this festival; but as to what regarded, the traitor whose head he had chopped off, he was ready to answer for that blood, not only to man but before God. For had not the coward struck his own sovereign lady the Princess with the drumstick? Item, was he not in the act of rising to repeat the blow, as the whole nobility are aware, only he lost his head by the way; and if this had not been done, all order and government must have ceased throughout the land, and the mice and the rats rule the cats, which was against the order of nature and contrary to God's will. But his gracious lady might take consolation, for Sidonia had been carried from the castle that morning by four of the clock, and, by God's grace, never should set foot in it again. But there was another gravamen, and that concerned the young nobles, who, no doubt, would become more daring after the events of last evening. Then he related what had happened to the priest. "Item, what did my gracious lady mean to do with those drunken libertines? If her Grace had kept up the huntings and the fishings, as in the days of good Duke Philip, mayhap the young men would have been less given to debauchery; but her Grace kept an idle house, and they had nothing to do but drink and brew mischief. If her Grace had no fitting employment for these young fellows, then he would pack them all off to the devil the very next morning, for they brought nothing but disrespect upon the princely house of Wolgast."

So her Grace rejoiced over Sidonia's departure, but could not consent to send away the young knights. Her beloved husband and lord, Philippus Primus, always kept a retinue of such young nobles, and all the princely courts did the same. What would her cousin of Brandenburg and Mecklenburg say, when they heard that she had no longer knights or pages at her court? She feared her princely name would be mentioned with disrespect.

So Ulrich replied, that at all events, this set of young boisterers must be sent off, as they had grown too wild and licentious to be endured any longer; and that he would select a new retinue for her Grace from the discreetest and most sober-minded young knights of the court. Marcus Bork, however, might remain; he was true, loyal, and brave—not a wine-bibber and profligate like the others.

So her Grace at last consented, seeing that no good would come of these young men now; on the contrary, they would be more daring and riotous than ever from rage, when they found that Sidonia had been sent away; and that business of the window-smashing and the goat demanded severe punishment. So let Ulrich look out for a new household; these gay libertines would be sent away.

While she was speaking, the door opened, and Prince Ernest entered the chamber, looking so pale and haggard, that her Grace clasped her hands together, and asked him, with terror, what had happened.

Ille.—"Did she ask what had happened, when all Pomerania rung with it?—when nobles were beheaded before her face as if they were nothing more than beggars' brats?—when the delicate and high-born Lady Sidonia, who had been entrusted to her care by Duke Barnim himself, was turned out of the castle in the middle of the night as if she were a street-girl, because, forsooth, she would not learn her catechism? The world would scarcely credit such scandalous acts, and yet they were all true. But to-morrow (if this weakness which had come over him allowed of it) he would set off for Stettin, also to Berlin and Schwerin, and tell the princes there, his cousins, what government they held in Wolgast. He would soon be twenty, and would then take matters into his own hands; and he would pray his guardian and dear uncle, Duke Barnim, to pronounce him at once of age; then the devil might take Ulrich and his government, but he would rule the castle his own way."

Her Grace.—"But what did he complain of? What ailed him? She must know this first, for he was looking as pale as a corpse."

Ille.—"Did she not know, then, what ailed him? Well, since he must tell her, it was anger-anger that made him so pale and weak."

Her Grace.—"Anger, was it? Anger, because the false wanton, Sidonia, had been removed by her orders from her princely castle? Ah! she knew now what the wanton had come there for; but would he kill his mother? She nearly sank upon the ground last night when he called the impudent wench his bride. But she forgave him; it must have been the wine he drank made him so forget himself; or was it possible that he spoke in earnest?"

Ille (sighing).—"The future will tell that." "Oh, woe is me! what must I live to hear? If thy father could look up from his grave, and see thee disgracing thy princely blood by a marriage with a bower maiden!—. thou traitorous, disobedient son, do not lie to me. I know from thy sighs what thy purpose is—for this thou art going to Stettin and Berlin."

The Prince is silent, and looks down upon the ground.

Her Grace.—"Oh, shame on thee! shame on thee for the sake of thy mother! shame on thee for the sake of this servant of God, thy second father, this old man here! What! a vile knave strike thy mother, before the face of all the court, and thou condemnest him because he avenged her! Truly thou art a fine, brave son, to let thy mother be struck before thy face, for the sake of a harlot. Canst thou deny it? I conjure thee by the living God, tell me is it thy true purpose to take this harlot to thy wife?"

Ille.—"He could give but one answer, the future would decide."

Her Grace (weeping).—"Oh, she was reserved for all misfortunes! Why did Doctor Martinus let her ring fall? All, all has followed from that! If he had chosen a good, humble, honest girl, she would say nothing; but this wanton, this light maiden, that ran after every carl and let them court her!"

Here the young Prince was seized with such violent convulsions that he fell upon the floor, and her Grace raised him up with loud lamentations. He was carried in a dead faint to his chamber, and the court physician, Doctor Pomius, instantly summoned. Doctor Pomius was a pompous little man (for my father knew him well), dry and smart in his words, and with a face like a pair of nutcrackers, for his front teeth were gone, so that his lips seemed dried on his gums, like the skin of a mummy. He was withal too self-conceited and boastful, and malicious, full of gossip and ill-nature, and running down every one that did not believe that he (Doctor Pomius) was the only learned physician in the world. Following the celebrated rules laid down by Theophrastus Paracelsus, he cured everything with trash—and asses' dung was his infallible panacea for all complaints. This pharmacopoeia was certainly extremely simple, easily obtained, and universal in its application. If the dung succeeded, the doctor drew himself up, tossed his head, and exclaimed, "What Doctor Pomius orders always succeeds." But if the wretched patient slipped out of his hands into the other world, he shook his head and said, "There is an hour for every man to die; of course his had come—physicians cannot work miracles."

Pomius hated every other doctor in the town, and abused them so for their ignorance and stupidity, that finally her Grace believed that no one in the world knew anything but Doctor Pomius, and that a vast amount of profound knowledge was expressed, if he only put his finger to the end of his nose, as was his habit.

So, as I have said, she summoned him to attend the young lord; and after feeling his pulse and asking some questions respecting his general health, the doctor laid his finger, as usual, to his nose, and pronounced solemnly—"The young Prince must immediately take a dose of asses' dung stewed in wine, with a little of the laudanum paracelsi poured in afterwards—this will restore him certainly."

But it was all in vain; for the young Prince still continued day and night calling for Sidonia, and neither the Duchess nor Doctor Gerschovius could in any wise comfort him. This afflicted her Grace almost to the death; and by Ulrich's advice, she despatched her second son, Duke Barnim the younger, and Dagobert von Schwerin, to the court of Brunswick, to solicit in her name the hand of the young Princess Sophia Hedwig, for her son Ernest Ludovicus. Now, in the whole kingdom, there was no more beautiful princess than Sophia of Brunswick; and her Grace was filled with hope that, by her means, the influence of the detestable Sidonia over the heart of the young lord would be destroyed for ever.

In due time the ambassadors returned, with the most favourable answer. Father, mother, and daughter all gave consent; and the Duke of Brunswick also forwarded by their hands an exquisite miniature of his beautiful daughter for Prince Ernest.

This miniature her Grace now hung up beside his bed. Would he not look at the beautiful bride she had selected for him? Could there be a more lovely face in all the German empire? What was Sidonia beside her, but a rude country girl!—would he not give her up at last, this light wench? While, on the contrary, this illustrious princess was as virtuous as she was beautiful, and this the whole court of Brunswick could testify.

But the young lord would give no heed to her Grace, and spat out at the picture, and cried to take away the daub—into the fire with it—anywhere out of his sight. Unless his dear, his beautiful Sidonia came to tend him, he would die—he felt that he was dying.

So her Grace took counsel with old Ulrich, and Doctor Pomius, and the priest, what could be done now. The doctor mentioned that he must have been witch-struck. Then more doctors were sent for from the Grypswald, but all was in vain—no one knew what ailed him; and from day to day he grew worse.

Clara von Dewitz now bitterly reproached herself for having concealed her suspicions about the love-drink from her Grace—though indeed she did so by desire of her betrothed, Marcus Bork. But now, seeing that the young Prince lay absolutely at the point of death, she could no longer hold her peace, but throwing herself on her knees before her Grace, told her the whole story of the witch-girl whom she had sheltered in the castle, and of her fears that Sidonia had learned from her how to brew a love-philtre, which she had afterwards given to the Prince.

Her Grace was sore displeased with Clara for having kept all this a secret, and said that she would have expected more wisdom and discretion from her, seeing that she had always counted her the most worthy amongst her maidens; then she summoned Ulrich, and laid the evil matter before him. He shook his head; believed that they had hit on the true cause now. Such a sickness had nothing natural about it—there must be magic and witchwork in it; but he would have the whole land searched for the girl, and make her give the young lord some potion that would take off the spell.

Now the witch-girl had been pardoned a few days before that, and sent back to Usdom, near Daber; but bailiffs were now sent in all directions to arrest her, and bring her again to Wolgast without delay.

So the wretched creature was discovered, before long, in Kruge, near Mahlzow, where she had hired herself as a spinner for the winter, and brought before Ulrich and her Grace. She was there admonished to tell the whole truth, but persisted in asseverating that Sidonia had never learned from her how to make a love-drink. Her statement, however, was not believed; and Master Hansen was summoned, to try and make her speak more. The affair, indeed, appeared so serious to Ulrich, that he himself stood by while she was undergoing the torture, and carried on the protocollum, calling out to Master Hansen occasionally not to spare his squeezes. But though the blood burst from her finger-ends, and her hip was put out of joint, so that she limped ever after, she confessed nothing more, nor did she alter the statement which she had first made.

Item, her Grace, and the priest, and all the bystanders exhorted her in vain to confess the truth (for her Grace was present at the torture). At last she cried out, "Yes, I know something that will cure him! Mercy! mercy! and I will tell it."

So they unbound her, and she was going straightway to make her witch-potion, but old Ulrich changed his mind. Who could know whether this devil's fiend was telling them the truth? May be she would kill the young lord in place of curing him. So they gave her another stretch upon the rack. But as she still held by all her assertions, they spared her any further torture.

But, in my opinion, the young lord must have obtained something from her, otherwise he could not have recovered all at once the moment that Sidonia was brought back, as I shall afterwards relate.

Sum total.—The young Prince screamed day and night for Sidonia, and told her Grace that he now felt he was dying, and requested, as his last prayer upon this earth, to be allowed to see her once more. The maiden was an angel of goodness; and if she could but close his dying eyes, he would die happy.

It can be easily imagined with what humour her Grace listened to such a request, for she hated Sidonia like Satan himself; but as nothing else could satisfy him, she promised to send for her, if Prince Ernest would solemnly swear, by the corpse of his father, that he would never wed her, but select some princess for his bride, as befitted his exalted rank—the Princess Hedwig, or some other—as soon as he had recovered sufficiently to be able to quit his bed. So he quickly stretched forth his thin, white hand from the bed, and promised his dearly beloved mother to do all she had asked, if she would only send horsemen instantly to Stettin, for the journey by water was insecure, and might be tedious if the wind were not favourable.

Hereupon a great murmur arose in the castle; and young Duke Bogislaus fell into such a rage that he took his way back again to Camyn, and his younger brother, Barnim, accompanied him. But the anger of the Grand Chamberlain no words can express. He told her Grace, in good round terms, that she would be the mock of the whole land. The messengers had only just returned who had carried away Sidonia from the castle under the greatest disgrace; and now, forsooth, they must ride back again to bring her back with all honour.

"Oh, it was all true, quite true; but then, if her dearest son Ernest were to die—"

Ille.—"Let him die. Better lose his life than his honour."

Haec.—"He would not peril his honour, for he had sworn by the corpse of his father never to wed Sidonia."

Ille.—"Ay, he was quick enough in promising, but performing was a different thing. Did her Grace think that the passion of a man could be controlled by promises, as a tame horse by a bridle? Never, never. Passion was a wild horse, that no bit, or bridle, or curb could guide, and would assuredly carry his rider to the devil."

Her Grace.—"Still she could not give up her son to death; besides, he would repent and see his folly. Did not God's Word tell us how the prodigal son returned to his father, and would not her son return likewise?"

Ille.—"Ay, when he has kept swine. After that he may return, but not till then. The youngster was as great a fool about women as he had ever come across in his life."

Her Grace (weeping).—"He was too harsh on the young man. Had she not sent away the girl at his command; and now he would let her own child die before her eyes, without hope or consolation?"

Ille.—"But if her child is indeed dying, would she send for the devil to attend him in his last moments? Her Grace should be more consistent. If the young lord is dying, let him die; her Grace has other children, and God will know how to comfort her. Had he not been afflicted himself? and let her ask Dr. Gerschovius if the Lord had not spoken peace unto him."

Her Grace.—"Ah, true; but then neither of them are mothers. Her son is asking every moment if the messengers have departed, and what shall she answer him? She cannot lie, but must tell the whole bitter truth."

Ille.—"He saw the time had come at last for him to follow the young princes. He was of no use here any longer. Her Grace must give him permission to take his leave, for he would sail off that very day for his castle at Spantekow, and then she might do as she pleased respecting the young lord."

So her Grace besought him not to leave her in her sore trouble and perplexity. Her two sons had sailed away, and there was no one left to advise and comfort her.

But Ulrich was inflexible. "She must either allow her son quietly to leave this miserable life, or allow him to leave this miserable court service."

"Then let him go to Spantekow. Her son should be saved. She would answer before the throne of the Almighty for what she did. But would he not promise to return, if she stood in any great need or danger? for she felt that both were before her; still she must peril everything to save her child."

Ille.—"Yes, he would be ready on her slightest summons; and he doubted not but that Sidonia would soon give her trouble and sorrow enough. But he could not remain now, without breaking his knightly oath to Duke Philip, his deceased feudal seigneur of blessed memory, and standing before the court and the world as a fool."

So after many tears her Grace gave him his dismissal, and he rode that same day to Spantekow, promising to return if she were in need, and also to send her a new retinue and household immediately.

This last arrangement displeased Marcus Bork mightily, for he had many friends amongst the knights who were now to be dismissed, and so he, too, prayed her Grace for leave to resign his office and retire from court. He had long looked upon Clara von Dewitz with a holy Christian love, and, if her Grace permitted, he would now take her home as his dear loving wife.

Her Grace replied that she had long suspected this betrothal—particularly from the time that Clara told her of his advice respecting the concealment of the witch-girl's visit to Sidonia; and as he had acted wrongly in that business, he must now make amends by not deserting her in her greatest need. Her sons and old Ulrich had already left her; some one must remain in whom she could place confidence. It would be time enough afterwards to bring home his beloved wife Clara, and she would wish them God's blessing on their union.

Ille.—"True, he had been wrong in concealing that business with the witch-girl, but her Grace must pardon him. He never thought it would bring the young lord to his dying bed. Whatever her Grace now commanded he would yield obedience to."

"Then," said her Grace, "do you and Appelmann mount your horses instantly, ride to Stettin, and bring back Sidonia. For her dearly beloved son had sworn that he could not die easy unless he beheld Sidonia once more, and that she attended him in his last moments."

It may be easily imagined how the good knight endeavoured to dissuade her Highness from this course, and even spoke to the young Prince himself, but in vain. That same day he and Appelmann were obliged to set off for Stettin, and on their arrival presented the following letter to old Duke Barnim:—

"MARIA, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, BORN DUCHESS OF SAXONY, &c.

"ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE AND MY DEAR UNCLE,—It has not been concealed from your Highness how our clear son Ernest Ludovicus, since the departure of Sidonia, has fallen, by the permission of God, into such a state of bodily weakness that his life even stands in jeopardy.

"He has declared that nothing will restore him but to see Sidonia once more. We therefore entreat your Highness, after admonishing the aforesaid maiden severely upon her former light and unseemly behaviour, to dismiss her with our messengers, that they may return and give peace and health to our dearly beloved son.

"If your Highness would enjoy a hunt or a fishing with a tame sea-gull, it would give us inexpressible pleasure.

"We commend you lovingly to God's holy keeping.

"Given from our Castle of Wolgast, this Friday, April 15, 1569.

"MARIA."



CHAPTER XIV.

How Duke Barnim of Stettin and Otto Bork accompany Sidonia back to Wolgast.

When his Highness of Stettin had finished the perusal of her Grace's letter, he laughed loudly, and exclaimed—

"This comes of all their piety and preachings. I knew well what this extravagant holiness would make of my dear cousin and old Ulrich. If people would persist in being so wonderfully religious, they would soon become as sour as an old cabbage head; and Sidonia declared, that, for her part, a hundred horses should not drag her back to Wolgast, where she had been lectured and insulted, and all because she would not learn her catechism like a little school-girl."

Nor would Otto Bork hear of her returning. (He was waiting at Stettin to conduct her back to Stramehl.) At last, however, he promised to consent, on condition that his Highness would grant him the dues on the Jena.

Now the Duke knew right well that Otto wanted to revenge himself upon the people of Stargard, with whom he was at enmity; but he pretended not to observe the cunning knight's motives, and merely replied—

"They must talk of the matter at Wolgast, for nothing could be decided upon without having the opinion of his cousin the Duchess."

So the knight taking this as a half-promise, and Sidonia having at last consented, they all set off on Friday with a good south wind in their favour, and by that same evening were landed by the little water-gate at Wolgast. His Highness was received with distinguished honours—the ten knights of her Grace's new household being in waiting to receive him as he stepped on shore.

So they proceeded to the castle, the Duke having Sidonia upon one arm, and a Cain under the other, which he had been carving during the passage, for the Eve had long since been finished. Otto followed; and all the people, when they beheld Sidonia, uttered loud cries of joy that the dear young lady had come back to them.

This increased her arrogance, so that when her Grace received her, and began a godly admonishment upon her past levities, and conjured her to lead a modest, devout life for the future, Sidonia replied indiscreetly—"She knew not what her Grace and her parson meant by a modest, devout life, except it were learning the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius; from such modesty and devoutness she begged to be excused, she was no little school-girl now—she thought her Grace had got rid of all her whims and caprices, by sending for her after having turned her out of the castle without any cause whatever—but it was all the old thing over again."

Her Grace coloured up with anger at this bitter speech, but held her peace. Then Otto addressed her, and begged leave to ask her Grace what kind of order was held at her court, where a priest was allowed to slap the fingers of a noble young maiden, and a chamberlain to smite her on the face? Had he known that such were the usages at her court of Wolgast, the Lady Sidonia (such he delighted to call her, as though she were of princely race) never should have entered it, and he would now instantly take her back to Stramehl, if her Grace would not consent to give him up the dues on the Jena.

Now her Grace knew nothing about the dues, and therefore said, turning to the Duke—"Dear uncle, what does this arrogant knave mean? I do not comprehend his insolent speech." Hereupon Otto chafed with rage, that her Grace had named him with such contempt, and cried—"Then was your husband a knave, too! for my blood is as noble and nobler than your own, and I am lord of castles and lands. Come, my daughter; let us leave the robbers' den, or mayhap thy father will be struck even as thou wert."

Now her Grace knew not what to do, and she lamented loudly—more particularly because at this moment a message arrived from Prince Ernest, praying her for God's sake to bring Sidonia to him, as he understood that she had been in the castle now a full quarter of an hour. Then old Otto laughed loudly, took his daughter by the hand, and cried again, "Come—let us leave this robber hole. Come, Sidonia!"

This plunged her Grace into despair, and she exclaimed in anguish, "Will you not have pity on my dying child?" but Otto continued, "Come, Sidonia! come, Sidonia!" and he drew her by the hand.

Here Duke Barnim rose up and said, "Sir Knight, be not so obstinate. Remember it is a sorrowing mother who entreats you. Is it not true, Sidonia, you will remain here?"

Then the cunning hypocrite lifted her kerchief to her eyes, and replied, "If I did not know the catechism of Doctor Gerschovius, yet I know God's Word, and how the Saviour said, 'I was sick and ye visited Me,' and James also says, 'The prayer of faith shall save the sick.' No, I will not let this poor young lord die, if my visit and my prayer can help him."

"No, no," exclaimed Otto, "thou shall not remain, unless the dues of the Jena be given up to me." And as at this moment another page arrived from Prince Ernest, with a similar urgent request for Sidonia to come to him, her Grace replied quickly, "I promise all that you desire," without knowing what she was granting; so the knight said he was content, and let go his daughter's hand.

Now the good town of Stargard would have been ruined for ever by this revengeful man, if his treacherous designs had not been defeated (as we shall see presently) by his own terrible death. He had long felt a bitter hatred to the people of Stargard, because at one time they had leagued with the Greifenbergers and the Duke of Pomerania to ravage his town of Stramehl, in order to avenge an insult he had offered to the old burgomaster, Jacob Appelmann, father of the chief equerry, Johann Appelmann. In return for this outrage, Otto determined, if possible, to get the control of the dues of the Jena into his own hands, and when the Stargardians brought their goods and provisions up the Jena, and from thence prepared to enter the river Haff, he would force them to pay such exorbitant duty upon everything, that the merchants and the people, in short, the whole town, would be ruined, for their whole subsistence and merchandise came by these two rivers, and all this was merely to gratify his revenge. But the just God graciously turned away the evil from the good town, and let it fall upon Otto's own head, as we shall relate in its proper place.

So, when the old knight had let go his daughter's hand, her Grace seized it, and went instantly with Sidonia to the chamber of the young lord, all the others following. And here a moving scene was witnessed, for as they entered, Prince Ernest extended his thin, pale hands towards Sidonia, exclaiming, "Sidonia, ah, dearest Sidonia, have you come at last to nursetend me?" then he took her little hand, kissed it, and bedewed it with his tears, still repeating, "Sidonia, dearest Sidonia, have you come to nursetend me?"

So the artful hypocrite began to weep, and said—. "Yes, my gracious Prince, I have come to you, although your priest struck me on the fingers, and your mother and old Ulrich called me a harlot, before all the court, and lastly, turned me out of the castle by night, as if I had been a swine-herd; but I have not the heart to let your Highness surfer, if my poor prayers and help can abate your sickness; therefore let them strike me, and call me a harlot again, if they wish."

This so melted the heart of my gracious Prince Ernest, that he cried out, "O Sidonia, angel of goodness, give me one kiss, but one little kiss upon my mouth, Sidonia! bend down to me—but one, one kiss!" Her Grace was dreadfully scandalised at such a speech, and said he ought to be ashamed of such words. Did he not remember what he had sworn by the corpse of his father at St. Peter's? But old Duke Barnim cried out, laughing—"Give him a kiss, Sidonia; that is the best plaster for his wounds; 'a kiss in honour brings no dishonour,' says the proverb."

However, Sidonia still hesitated, and bending down to the young man, said, "Wait, gracious Prince, until we are alone."

If the Duchess had been angry before, what was it to her rage now—"Alone! she would take good care they were never to be alone!"

Otto took no notice of this speech, probably because he saw that matters were progressing much to his liking between the Prince and his daughter; but Duke Barnim exclaimed, "How now, dearest cousin, are you going to spoil all by your prudery? You brought the girl here to cure him, and what other answer could she give? Bend thee down, Sidonia, and give him one little kiss upon the lips—I, the Prince, command thee; and see, thou needst not be ashamed, for I will set thee an example with his mother. Come, dear cousin, put off that sour face, and give me a good, hearty kiss; your son will get well the sooner for it:" but as he attempted to seize hold of her Grace, she cried out, and lifted up her hands to Heaven, lamenting in a loud voice—"Oh, evil and wicked world! may God release me from this wicked world, and lay me down this day beside my Philip in the grave!" Then weeping and wringing her hands, she left the chamber, while the old knight, and—God forgive him!—even Duke Barnim, looked after her, laughing.

"Come, Otto," said his Grace, "let us go too, and leave this pair alone; I must try and pacify my dear cousin." So they left the room, and on the way Otto opened his mind to the Duke about this love matter, and asked his Grace, would he consent to the union, if Prince Ernest, on his recovery, made honourable proposals for his daughter Sidonia.

But his Grace was right crafty, and merely answered—"Time enough to settle that, Otto, when he is recovered; but methinks you will have some trouble with his mother unless you are more civil to her; so if you desire her favour, bear yourself more humbly, I advise you, as befits a subject."

This the knight promised, and the conversation ceased, as they came up with the Duchess just then, who was waiting for them in the grand corridor. No sooner did she perceive that Sidonia was not with them than she cried out, "So my son is alone with the maiden!" and instantly despatched three pages to watch them both.

Otto had now changed his tone, and instead of retorting, thanked her Grace for the praiseworthy and Christian care she took of his daughter. He did not believe this at first, but now he saw it with his own eyes. Alas, it was too true, the world was daily growing worse and worse, and the devil haunted us with his temptations, like our own flesh and blood. Then he sighed and kissed her hand, and prayed her Grace to pardon him his former bold language—but, in truth, he had felt displeased at first to see her Grace so harsh to Sidonia, when every one else at the castle received her with rapture; but he saw now that she only meant kindly and motherly by the girl.

Then the Duke asked, her pardon for his little jest about the kissing. She knew well that he meant no harm; and also that it was not in his nature to endure any melancholy or lamentable faces around him.

So her Grace was reconciled to both, and when the Duke announced that he and the knight proposed visiting Barth [Footnote: Barth, a little town; and Eldena was at that time a richly endowed convent near Greifswald.] and Eldena, from whence they would return in a few days, to take their leave of her, she said that if her dearest son Ernest grew any better, she would have a grand battue in honour of his Highness Duke Barnim, upon their return.

Accordingly, after having amused themselves for a little fishing with the tame sea-gull, the Duke and Otto rode away, and her Grace went to the chamber of the young Prince, to keep watch there during the night. She would willingly have dismissed Sidonia, but he forbade her; and Sidonia herself declared that she would watch day and night by the bedside of the young lord. So she sat the whole night by his bed, holding his hand in hers, and told him about her journey, and how shamefully she had been smuggled away out of the castle by old Ulrich, because she would not learn the catechism; and of her anguish when the messengers arrived, and told of their young lord's illness. She was quite certain Ulrich must have given him something to cause it, as a punishment for having released her from prison, for if he could strike a maiden, it was not surprising that he would injure even his future reigning Prince to gratify his malice. It was well the old malignant creature was away now, as she was told, and if his Grace did right he would play him a trick in return, and set fire to his castle at Spantekow as soon as he was able to move.

Her Grace endured all this in silence, for her dear son's sake, though in truth her anger was terrible. The young lord, however, grew better rapidly, and the following day was even able to creep out of bed for a couple of hours, to touch the lute. And he taught Sidonia all, and placed her little fingers himself on the strings, that she might learn the better. Then, for the first time, he called for something to eat, and after that fell into a profound sleep which lasted forty-eight hours. During this time he lay like one dead, and her Grace would have tried to awaken him, but the physician prevented her. At length, when he awoke, he cried out loudly, first for Sidonia, and then for some food.

At last, to the great joy of her Grace, he was able, on the fourth day, to walk in the castle garden, and arranged to attend the hunt with his dear uncle upon his return to Wolgast. The Duke, on his arrival, rejoiced greatly to find the young lord so well, and said with his usual gay manner, "Come here, Sidonia; I have been rather unwell on the journey: come here and give me a kiss too, to make me better!" and Sidonia complied. Whereupon her Grace looked unusually sour, but said nothing, for fear of disturbing the general joy. Indeed, the whole castle was in a state of jubilee, and her Grace promised that she and her ladies would attend the hunt on the following day.

About this time the castle was troubled by a strange apparition—no other than the spectre of the serpent knight, who had been drowned some time previously. It was reported that every night the ghost entered the castle by the little water-gate, though it was kept barred and bolted, traversed the whole length of the corridor, and sunk down into the earth, just over the place where the ducal coaches and sleighs were kept.

Every one fled in terror before the ghost, and scarcely a lansquenet could be found to keep the night watch. What this spectre betokened shall be related further on in this little history, but at present I must give an account of the grand battue which took place according to her Grace's orders, and of what befell there.



CHAPTER XV.

Of the grand battue, and what the young Duke and Sidonia resolved on there.

The preparations for the hunt commenced early in the morning, and the knights and nobles assembled in the hall of fishes (so called because the walls were painted with representations of all the fishes that are indigenous to Pomerania). Here a superb breakfast was served, and pages presented water in finger-basins of silver to each of the princely personages. Then costly wines were handed round, and Duke Barnim, having filled to the brim a cup bearing the Pomeranian arms, rose up and said, "Give notice to the warder at St. Peter's." And immediately, as the great bell of the town rang out, and resounded through the castle and all over the town, his Grace gave the health of Prince Ernest, who pledged him in return. Afterwards they all descended to the courtyard, and his Grace entered the ducal mews himself, to select a horse for the day. Now these mews were of such wonderful beauty, that I must needs append a description of them here.

First there was a grand portico, and within a corridor with ranges of pillars on each side, round which were hung antlers and horns of all the animals of the chase. This led to the pond with the island in the centre, where the bear was kept, as I have already described. When Duke Barnim and the old knight emerged from the portico to enter the stable, they were met by Johann Appelmann, the chief equerry, who spread before the feet of his Highness a scarlet horse-cloth, embroidered with the ducal arms, whereon he laid a brush and a riding-whip; and then demanded his Trinkgeld.

On entering, they observed numerous stalls filled with Pomeranian, Hungarian, Frisian, Danish, and Turkish horses—each race by itself, and each horse standing ready saddled and bridled since the morning. Item, all along the walls were ranged enormous brazen lions' heads, which conveyed water throughout the building, and cleansed the stables completely every day.

Otto wondered much at all this magnificence, and asked his Grace what could her Highness want with all these horses.

"They eat their oats in idleness, for the most part," replied the Duke. "No one uses them but the pages and knights of the household, who may select any for riding that pleases them; but her Highness would never diminish any of the state maintained by her deceased lord, Duke Philip. So there has been always, since that time, particular attention paid to the ducal stables at Wolgast."

Now the train began to move towards the hunt, in all about a hundred persons, and in front rode her Grace upon an ambling palfrey, dressed in a riding-habit of green velvet, and wearing a yellow hat with plumes. Her little Casimir rode by her side on a Swedish pony; then followed her ladies-in-waiting, amongst whom rode Sidonia, all likewise dressed in green velvet hunting-dresses, fastened with golden clasps; but in place of yellow, they wore scarlet hats, with gilded herons' plumes. Duke Barnim and Prince Ernest rode along with her Grace; and though none but those of princely blood were allowed to join this group, yet Otto strove to keep near them, as if he really belonged to the party, just as the sacristan strives to make the people think he is as good as the priest by keeping as close as he can to him while the procession moves along the streets.

After these came the marshal, the castellan, and then the treasurer, with the office-bearers, knights, and esquires of the household. Then the chief equerry, with the master of the hounds and the principal huntsmen. But the beaters, pages, lacqueys, drummers, coursers, and runners had already gone on before a good way; and never had the Wolgastians beheld such a stately hunt as this since the death of good Duke Philip. So the whole town ran together, and followed the procession for a good space, up to the spot where blue tents were erected for her Grace and her ladies. The ground all round was strewed with flowers and evergreens, and before the tents palisades were erected, on which lay loaded rifles, ready to discharge at any of the game that came that way; and for two miles round the master of the hunt had laid down nets, which were all connected together at a point close to the princely tent.

When the beaters and their dogs had started the animals, he left the tent to reconnoitre, and if the sport promised to be plentiful, he ordered the drums to beat, in order to give her Highness notice. Then she took a rifle herself, and brought down several head, which was easily accomplished, when they passed upon each other as thick as sheep. Sidonia, who had often attended the hunts at Stramehl, was a most expert shot, and brought down ten roes and stags, whereon she had much jesting with the young lords, who had not been half so successful. And let no one imagine that there was danger to her Highness and her ladies in thus firing at the wild droves from her tent, for it was erected upon a scaffolding raised five feet from the ground, and surrounded by palisades, so that it was impossible the animals could ever reach it.

On that day, there were killed altogether one hundred and fifty stags, one hundred roes, five hundred hares, three hundred foxes, one hundred wild boars, seven wolves, five wild-cats, and one bear, which was entangled in the net and then shot. And at last the right hearty pleasure of the day began.

For it was the custom at the ducal court for each huntsman, from the master of the hunt down, to receive a portion of the game; and her Grace took much pleasure now in seeing the mode in which the distribution was made. It was done in this wise: each man received the head of the animal, and as much of the neck as he could cover with the ears, by dragging them down with all his might.

So the huntsmen stood now toiling and sweating, each with one foot firmly planted against a stone and the other on the belly of the beast, dragging down the ears with all his force to the very furthest point they could go, when another huntsman, standing by, cut off the head at that point with his hunting-knife.

Then each man let his dog bite at the entrails of a stag, while they repeated old charms and verses over them, such as:—

"Diana, no better e'er track'd a wood; There's many a huntsman not half so good."

Or, in Low German:—

"Wasser, if ever the devil you see, Bite his leg for him, or he will bite me."

These old rhymes pleased the young Casimir mightily: if his lady mother would only lend him a ribbon, he would lead up little Blaffert his dog to them, and have a rhyme said over him. So her Grace consented, and broke off her sandal-tie to fasten in the little dog's collar, because in her hurry she could find no other string, and left the tent herself with the child to conduct him to the huntsmen.

Now the moment her Grace had taken her eyes off Sidonia, and that all the other ladies had left the tent to follow her and the little boy, who was laughing and playing with his dog, the young maiden, looking round to see that no one was observing her, slipped out and ran in amongst the bushes, and my lord, Prince Ernest, slipped after her. No one observed them, for all eyes were turned upon the princely child, who sprang to a huntsman and begged of him to say a rhyme or two over his little dog Blaffert. The carl rubbed his forehead, and at last gave out his psalm, as follows, in Low German:—

"Blaffert, Blaffert, thou art fat! If my lord would only feed All his people like to that 'Twould be well for Pommern's need."

[Footnote: Pomerania.]

All the bystanders laughed heartily, and then the hounds were given their dinner according to the usage, which was this:—A number of oak and birch trees were felled, and over every two and two there was spread a tablecloth—that is, the warm skin of a deer or wild-boar; into this, as into a wooden trencher, was poured the warm blood of the wild animals, which the hounds lapped up, while forty huntsmen played a march with drums and trumpets, which was re-echoed from the neighbouring wood, to the great delight of all the listeners. When the hounds had lapped up all the blood, they began to eat up the tablecloths likewise; but as these belonged to the huntsmen, a great fight took place between them and the dogs for the skins, which was right merry to behold, and greatly rejoiced the ducal party and all the people.

In the meantime, as I said, Sidonia had slipped into the wood, and the young lord after her. He soon found her resting under the shadow of a large nut-tree, and the following conversation took place between them, as he afterwards many times related:—

"Alas, gracious Prince, why do you follow me? if your lady mother knew of this we should both suffer. My head ached after all that firing, and therefore I came hither to enjoy a little rest and quietness. Leave me, leave me, my gracious lord."

"No, no, he would not leave her until she told him whether she still loved him; for his lady mother watched him day and night, like the dragon that guarded the Pomeranian arms, and until this moment he had never seen her alone."

"But what could he now desire to say? Had he not sworn by the corpse of his father never to wed her?"

"Yes; in a moment of anguish he had sworn it, because he would have died if she had not been brought back to the castle."

"But still he must hold by his word to his lady mother, would he not?"

"Impossible! all impossible! He would sooner renounce land and people for ever than his beautiful Sidonia. How he felt, for the first time, the truth of the holy words, 'Love is strong as death.'" [Footnote: Song of Solomon viii. 6.] Then he throws his arms round her and kissed her, and asked, would she be his?

Here Sidonia covered her face with both hands, and sinking down upon the grass, murmured, "Yours alone, either you or death."

The Prince threw himself down beside her, and besought her not to weep. "He could not bear to see her tears; besides, there was good hope for them yet, for he had spoken to old Zitsewitz, who wished them both well, and who had given him some good advice."

Sidonia (quickly removing her hands).—"What was it?"

"To have a private marriage. Then the devil himself could not separate them, much less the old bigot Ulrich. There was a priest in the neighbourhood, of the name of Neigialink. He lived in Crummyn, [Footnote: A town near Wolgast.] with a nun whom he had carried off from her convent and married; therefore he would be able to sympathise with lovers, and would help them."

"But his Highness should remember his kingly state, and not bring misery on them both for ever."

"He had considered all that, they should therefore keep this marriage private for a year; she could live at Stramehl during that period, and receive his visits without his mother knowing of the matter. At the end of that year he would be of age, and his own master."

Sidonia (embracing him).—"Ah, if he really loved her so, then the sooner the better to the church. But let him take care that evil-minded people would not separate them for ever, and bring her to an early grave. Had the priest been informed that he would be required to wed them?"

"Not yet; but if he continued as strong as he felt to-day, he would ride over to Crummyn himself (for it was quite near to Wolgast) the moment Duke Barnim and her father quitted the castle."

"But how would she know the result of his visit? his mother watched her day and night. Could he send a page or a serving-maid to her?—though indeed there were none now he could trust, for Ulrich had dismissed all her good friends. And if he came himself to her room, evil might be spoken of it."

"He had arranged all that already. There was the bear, as she remembered, chained upon the little island in the horse-pond, just under her window. Now when he returned from Crummyn, he would go out by seven in the morning, before his lady mother began her spinning, and commence shooting arrows at the bear, by way of sport; then, as if by chance, he would let fly an arrow at her window and shiver the glass, but the arrow would contain a little note, detailing his visit to the priest at Crummyn, and the arrangement he had made for carrying her away secretly from the castle. She must take care, however, to move away her seat from the window, and place it in a corner, lest the arrow might strike herself."

But then a loud "Sidonia! Sidonia!" resounded through the wood, and immediately after, "Ernest! Ernest!"

So she sprang up, and cried, "Run, dearest Prince, run as fast as you are able, to the other side, where the huntsmen are gathering, and mix with them, so that her Grace may not perceive you." This he did, and began to talk to the huntsmen about their dogs and the sweep of the chase, and as her Grace continued calling "Ernest! Ernest!" he stepped slowly towards her out of the crowd, and asked what was her pleasure? So she suspected nothing, and grew quite calm again.

Duke Barnim now began to complain of hunger, and asked her Grace where she meant to serve them a collation, for he could never hold out until they reached Wolgast, and his friend Otto also was growing as ravenous as a wolf.

Her Grace answered, the collation was laid in the Cisan tower, close beside them, and as the weather was good, his Grace could amuse himself with the tubum opticum, which a Pomeranian noble had bought in Middelburg from one Johann Lippersein, [Footnote: An optician, and the probable inventor of the telescope, which was first employed about the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth century.] and presented to her. By the aid of this telescope he would see as far as his own town of Stettin. Neither the Duke nor Otto Bork believed it possible to see Stettin, at the distance of thirteen or fourteen miles, with any instrument. But her Grace, who had heard of Otto's godless infidelity, rebuked him gravely, saying, "You will soon be convinced, sir knight; so we often hold that to be impossible in spiritual matters, which becomes not only possible, but certain, when we look through the telescope which the Holy Spirit presents to us, weak and short-sighted mortals. God give to every infidel such a tubum opticum!" The Duke, fearing now that her Grace would continue her sermon indefinitely, interrupted her in his jesting way—"Listen, dear cousin! I will lay a wager with you. If I cannot see Stettin, as you promise, you shall give me a kiss; but if I see it and recognise it clearly, then I shall give you a kiss."

Her Grace was truly scandalised, as one may imagine, and replied angrily—"Good uncle! if you attempt to offer such indignities to me, the princely widow, I must pray your Grace to leave my court with all speed, and never to return!" This rebuke made every one grave until they reached the Cisan tower. This building lay only half a mile from the hunting-ground, and was situated on the summit of the Cisanberg, from whence its name. It was built of wood, and contained four stories, besides excellent stabling for horses. The apartments were light, airy, and elegant, so that her Grace frequently passed a portion of the summer time there. The upper story commanded a view of the whole adjacent country. At the foot of the hill ran the little river Cisa into the Peen, and many light, beautiful bridges were thrown over it at different points. The hill itself was finely wooded with pines and other trees, and the tower was made more light and airy than that which Duke Johann Frederick afterwards erected at Friedrichswald, and commanded a far finer prospect, seeing that the Cisanberg is the highest hill in Pomerania.

While the party proceeded to the tower, Sidonia rode along by her father, and to judge from her animation and gestures, she was, no doubt, communicating to him all that the young lord had promised, and her hopes, in consequence, that a very short period would elapse before he might salute her as Duchess of Pomerania.

When they reached the tower, all admired the view even from the lower window, for they could see the Peen, the Achterwasser, and eight or nine towns, besides the sea in the distance. I say nothing of Wolgast, which seemed to lie just beneath their feet, with its princely castle and cathedral perfectly distinct, and all its seats laid out like a map, where they could even distinguish the people walking. Then her Grace bade them ascend to the upper story, and look out for Stettin, but they sought for it in vain with their unassisted eyes; then her Grace placed the tubum opticum before the Duke, and no sooner had he looked through it than he cried out, "As I live, Otto, there is my strong tower of St. James's, and my ducal castle to the left, lying far behind the Finkenwald mountain." But the unbelieving Thomas laughed, and only answered, "My gracious Prince! do not let yourself be so easily imposed upon."

Hereupon the Duke made him look through the telescope himself; and no sooner had he applied his eye to the glass than he jumped back, rubbed his eyes, looked through a second time, and then exclaimed—

"Well, as true as my name is Otto Bork, I never could have believed this."

"Now, sir knight," said her Grace, "so it is with you as concerns spiritual things. How if you should one day find that to be true which your infidelity now presumptuously asserts to be false? Will not your repentance then be bitter? If you have found my words true—the words of a poor, weak, sinful woman, will you not much more find those of the holy Son of God? Yes, to your horror and dismay, you will find His words to be truth, of whom even His enemies testified that He never lied—Matt. xxii. 16. Tremble, sir knight, and bethink you that what often seems impossible to man is possible to God."

The bold knight was now completely silenced, and the good-natured Duke, seeing that he had not a word to say in reply, advanced to his rescue, and changed the conversation by saying—

"See, Otto, the wind seems so favourable just now, that I think we had better say 'Vale' to our gracious hostess in the morning, and return to Stettin."

Not a word did his Grace venture to say more about the wager of the kisses, for his dear cousin's demeanour restrained even his hilarity. Otto had nothing to object to the arrangement; and her Grace said, if they were not willing longer to abide at her widowed court, she would bid them both Godspeed upon their journey. "And you, sir knight, may take back your daughter Sidonia, for our dear son, as you may perceive, is now quite restored, and no longer needs her nursing. For the good deed she has wrought in curing him, I shall recompense her as befits me. But at my court the maiden can no longer abide."

The knight was at first so thunderstruck by these words that he could not speak; but at last drawing himself up proudly, he said, "Good; I shall take the Lady Sidonia back with me to my castle; but as touching the recompense, keep it for those who need it." Sidonia, however, remained quite silent, as did also the young lord.

But hear what happened. The festival lasted until late in the night, and then suddenly such a faintness and bodily weakness came over the young Prince Ernest that all the physicians had to be sent for; and they with one accord entreated her Grace, if she valued his life, not to send away Sidonia.

One can imagine what her Grace felt at this news. Nothing would persuade her to believe but that Sidonia had given him some witch-drink, such as the girl out of Daber had taught her to make.

No one could believe either that his Highness affected this sickness, in order to force his mother to keep Sidonia at the court; indeed, he afterwards strongly asseverated, and this at a time when he would have killed Sidonia with a look, if it had been possible, that this weakness came upon him suddenly like an ague, and that it could not have been caused by anything she had given him, for he had eaten nothing, except at the banquet at the Cisan tower.

In short, the young Prince became as bad as ever; but Sidonia never heeded him, only busied herself packing up her things, as if she really intended going away with Otto, and finally, as eight o'clock struck the next morning, she wrapped herself in her mantle and hood, and went with her father and Duke Barnim to take leave of her Grace. She looked as bitter and sour as a vinegar-cruet—nothing would tempt her to remain even for one day longer. What was her Grace to do? the young lord was dying, and had already despatched two pages to her, entreating for one sight of Sidonia! She must give the artful hypocrite good words—but they were of no avail—Sidonia insisted on leaving the castle that instant with her father; then turning to Duke Barnim, she exclaimed with bitter tears, "Now, gracious Prince, you see yourself how I am treated here."

Neither would the cunning Otto permit his daughter to remain on any account, unless, indeed, her Grace gave him a written authority to receive the dues on the Jena. Such shameless knavery at last enraged the old Duke Barnim to such a degree that he cried out—"Listen, Otto, my illustrious cousin here has no more to do with the dues on the Jena than you have; they belong to me alone, and I can give no promise until I lay the question before my council and the diet of the Stettin dukedom: be content, therefore, to wait until then." One may easily guess what was the termination of the little drama got up by Otto and his fair daughter—namely, that Otto sailed away with the Duke, and that Sidonia remained at the court of Wolgast.



CHAPTER XVI.

_How the ghost continued to haunt the castle, and of its daring behaviour—Item, how the young lord regained his strength, and was able to visit Crummyn, with what happened to him there.

So Sidonia was again seated by the couch of the young Prince, with her hand in his hand; but her Grace, as may well be imagined, was never very far off from them; and this annoyed Sidonia so much, that she did not scruple to treat the mourning mother and princely widow with the utmost contempt; at last disdaining even to answer the questions addressed to her by her Grace. All this the Duchess bore patiently for the sake of her dear son. But even Prince Ernest felt, at length, ashamed of such insolent scorn being displayed towards his mother, and said—

"What, Sidonia, will you not even answer my gracious mother?"

Hereupon the hypocrite sighed, and answered—

"Ah, my gracious Prince! I esteem it better to pray in silence beside your bed than to hold a loud chattering in your ears. Besides, when I am speaking to God I cannot, at the same time, answer your lady mother."

This pleased the young man, and he pressed her little hand, and kissed it. And very shortly after, his strength returned to him wonderfully, so that her Grace and Sidonia only watched by him one night. The next day he fell into a profound sleep, and awoke from it perfectly recovered.

In the meantime, the ghost became so daring and troublesome, that all the house stood in fear of it. Oftentimes it would be seen even in the clear morning light; and a maid, who had forgotten to make the bed of one of the grooms, and ran to the stables at night to finish her work, encountered the ghost there, and nearly died of fright. Item, Clara von Dewitz, one beautiful moonlight night, having gone out to take a turn up and down the corridor, because she could not sleep from the toothache, saw the apparition, just as day dawned, sinking down into the earth, not far from the chamber of Sidonia, to her great horror and astonishment. Item, her Grace, that very same night, having heard a noise in the corridor, opened her door, and there stood the ghost before her, leaning against a pillar. She was horror-struck, and clapped to her door hastily, but said nothing to the young Prince, for fear of alarming him.

He had recovered, as I have said, in a most wonderful manner, and though still looking pale and haggard, yet his love for the maiden would not permit him to defer his visit to Crummyn any longer; particularly as it lay only half a mile from the castle, but on the opposite bank of the river, near the island of Usdom.

Thereupon, on the fourth night, he descended to the little water-gate, having previously arranged with his chief equerry, Appelmann, to have a boat there in readiness for him, and also a good horse, to take across the ferry with them to the other side. So, at twelve o'clock, he and Appelmann embarked privately, with Johann Bruwer, the ferryman, and were safely landed at Mahlzow. Here he mounted his horse, and told the two others to await his return, and conceal themselves in the wood if any one approached. Appelmann begged permission to accompany his Highness, which, however, was denied; the young Prince charging them strictly to hold themselves concealed till his return, and never reveal to human being where they had conducted him this evening, on pain of his severe anger and loss of favour for ever; but if they held their secret close, he would recompense them at no distant time, in a manner even far beyond their hopes.