A Word, Only a Word — Volume 05

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The Project Gutenberg EBook A Word Only A Word, by Georg Ebers, v5 #137 in our series by Georg EbersCopyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloadingor redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do notchange or edit the header without written permission.Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of thisfile. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can alsofind out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts****EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971*******These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers*****Title: A Word Only A Word, Volume 5.Author: Georg EbersRelease Date: April, 2004 [EBook #5576] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first postedon August 12, 2002]Edition: 10Language: English*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WORD ONLY A WORD, BY EBERS, V5 ***This eBook was produced by David Widger A WORD, ONLY A WORDBy Georg EbersVolume 5.CHAPTER XXVI.The Spanish nature is contagious, thought Hans Eitelfritz, tossing on his couch in Ulrich's ...
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The Project Gutenberg EBook A Word Only AWord, by Georg Ebers, v5 #137 in our series byGeorg EbersCopyright laws are changing all over the world. Besure to check the copyright laws for your countrybefore downloading or redistributing this or anyother Project Gutenberg eBook.This header should be the first thing seen whenviewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do notremove it. Do not change or edit the headerwithout written permission.Please read the "legal small print," and otherinformation about the eBook and ProjectGutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included isimportant information about your specific rights andrestrictions in how the file may be used. You canalso find out about how to make a donation toProject Gutenberg, and how to get involved.**Welcome To The World of Free Plain VanillaElectronic Texts****EBooks Readable By Both Humans and ByComputers, Since 1971*******These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousandsof Volunteers*****Title: A Word Only A Word, Volume 5.
Author: Georg EbersRelease Date: April, 2004 [EBook #5576] [Yes, weare more than one year ahead of schedule] [Thisfile was first posted on August 12, 2002]Edition: 10Language: English*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERGEBOOK A WORD ONLY A WORD, BY EBERS, V5***This eBook was produced by David Widger<widger@cecomet.net>A WORD, ONLY AWORDBy Georg Ebers
Volume 5.CHAPTER XXVI.The Spanish nature is contagious, thought HansEitelfritz, tossing on his couch in Ulrich's tent. Whata queer fellow the gay young lad has become!Sighs are cheap with him, and every word costs aducat. He is worthy all honor as a soldier. If theymake him Eletto, it will be worth while to join thefree army.Ulrich had briefly told the lansquenet, how he hadobtained the name ofNavarrete and how he had come from Madrid andLepanto to the Netherlands.Then he went to rest, but he could not sleep.He had found his mother again. He now possessedthe best gift Ruth had asked him to beseech of the"word." The soldier's sweetheart, the faithless wife,the companion of his rival, whom only yesterday hehad avoided, the fortune-teller, the camp-sibyl, wasthe woman who had given him birth. He, whothought he had preserved his honor stainless,whose hand grasped the sword if another lookedaskance at him, was the child of one, at whomevery respectable woman had the right to point herfinger. All these thoughts darted through his brain;but strangely enough, they melted like morningmists when the sun rises, before the feeling of joythat he had his mother again.
Her image did not rise before his memory inZorrillo's tent, but framed by balsams and wall-flowers. His vivid imagination made her twentyyears younger, and how beautiful she still was, howwinningly she could glance and smile. Everyappreciative word, all the praises of the sibyl'sbeauty, good sense and kindness, which he hadheard in the camp, came back freshly to his mind,and he would fain have started up to throw himselfon her bosom, call her his mother, hear her givehim all the sweet, pet names, which sounded sotender from her lips, and feel the caress of her softhands. How rich the solitary man felt, howsurpassingly rich! He had been entirely alone,deserted even by his mother! Now he was so nolonger, and pleasant dreams blended with hisambitious plans, like golden threads in dark cloth.When power was once his, he would build her abeautiful, cosy nest with his share of the booty.She must leave Zorrillo, leave him to-morrow. Thelittle nest should belong to her and him alone,entirely alone, and when his soul longed for peace,love, and quiet, he would rest there with her, recallwith her the days of his childhood, cherish and carefor her, make her forget all her sins and sufferings,and enjoy to the full the happiness of having heragain, calling a loving mother's heart his own.At every breath he drew he felt freer and gayer.Suddenly there was a rustling at the tent-door. Heseized his two-handed sword, but did not raise it,for a beloved voice he recognized, called softly:"Ulrich, Ulrich, it is I!"
He started up, hastily threw on his doublet, rushedtowards her, clasped her in his arms, and let herstroke his curls, kiss his cheeks and eyes, as in theold happy days. Then he drew her into the tent,whispering "Softly, softly, the snorer yonder is theGerman."She followed him, leaned against him, and raisedhis hand to her lips; he felt them grow wet withtears. They had not yet said anything to eachother, except how happy, how glad, how thankfulthey were to have each other again; then a sentinelpassed, and she started up, exclaiming anxiously:"So late, so late; Zorrillo will be waiting!""Zorrillo!" cried Ulrich scornfully, "you have been along time with him. If they give me the power….""They will choose you, child, they shall chooseyou," she hastily interrupted. "Oh, God! oh, God!perhaps this will bring you misfortune instead ofblessing; but you desire it! Count Mannsfeld iscoming tomorrow; Zorrillo knows it. He will bring a"pardon for all; promotions too, but no money yet."Oh, ho!" cried Ulrich, "that may decide thematter.""Perhaps so, you deserve to command them. Youwere born for some special purpose, and your cardalways turns up so strangely. Eletto! It soundsproud and grand, but many have been ruined byit…".
"Because power was too hard for them.""It must serve you. You are strong. A child of goodfortune. Folly! I will not fear. You have probablyfared well in life. Ah, my lamb, I have done little foryou, but one thing I did unceasingly: I prayed foryou, poor boy, morning and night; have younoticed, have you felt it?"He drew her to his heart again, but she releasedherself from his embrace, saying: "To-morrow,Ulrich; Zorrillo….""Zorrillo, always Zorrillo," he repeated, his bloodboiling angrily."You are mine and, if you love me, you will leavehim.""I cannot, Ulrich, it will not do. He is kind, you willyet be friends.""We, we? On the day of judgment, nay, not eventhen! Are you more firmly bound to yon smoothfellow, than to my honest father? There standssomething in the darkness, it is good steel, and ifneedful will cut the tie asunder.""Ulrich, Ulrich !" wailed Flora, raising her handsbeseechingly. "Not that, not that; it must not be. Heis kind and sensible, and loves me fondly. Oh,Heaven! Oh, Ulrich! The mother has glided to herson at night, as if she were following forbiddenpaths. Oh, this is indeed a punishment. I know howheavily I have sinned, I deserve whatever maybefall me; but you, you must not make me more
wretched, than I already am. Your father, he ….ifhe were still alive, for your sake I would crawl tohim on my knees, and say: "Here I am, forgive me—but he is dead. Pasquale, Zorrillo lives; do notthink me a vain, deluded woman; Zorrillo cannotbear to have me leave him….""And my father? He bore it. But do you know how?Shall I describe his life to you?""No, no! Oh, child, how you torture me! I know howI sinned against your father, the thought does notcease to torture me, for he truly loved me, and Iloved him, too, loved him tenderly. But I cannotkeep quiet a long time, and cast down my eyes,like the women there, it is not in my blood; andAdam shut me up in a cage and for many years letme see nothing except himself, and the cold,stupid city in the ravine by the forest. One day afierce longing came upon me, I could not helpgoing forth—forth into the wide world, no matterwith whom or whither. The soldier only needed tohint and I fell.—I did not stay with him long, he wasa windy braggart; but I was faithful to CaptainGrandgagnage and accompanied the wild fellowwith the Walloons through every land, until he wasshot. Then ten years ago, I joined Zorrillo; he is myfriend, he shares my feelings, I am necessary tohis existence. Do not laugh, Ulrich; I well know thatyouth lies behind me, that I am old, yet Pasqualeloves me; since I have had him, I have been morecontent and, Holy Virgin! now—I love him in return.Oh, Heaven! Oh, Heaven! Why is it so? This heart,this miserable heart, still throbs as fast as it did
twenty years ago.""You will not leave him?""No, no, I love him, and I know why. Every onecalls him a brave man, yet they only half know him;no one knows him wholly as I do. No one else is sogood, so generous. You must let me speak! Doyou suppose I ever forgot you? Never, never! Butyou have always been to me the dear little boy; Inever thought of you as a man, and since I couldnot have you and longed so greatly for you, for achild, I opened my heart to the soldiers' orphans,the little creature you saw in the tent is one ofthese poor things, I have often had two or threesuch babies at the same time. It would have beenan abomination to Grandgagnage, but Zorrillorejoices in my love for children, and I have givenwhat the Walloon bequeathed me and his ownbooty to the soldiers' widows and the little nakedbabies in the camp. He was satisfied, for whateverI do pleases him. I will not, cannot leave him!"She paused, hiding her face in her hands, butUlrich paced to and fro, violently agitated. At lasthe said firmly: "Yet you must part from him. He orI! I will have nothing to do with the lover of myfather's wife. I am Adam's son, and will be constantto him. Ah, mother, I have been deprived of you solong. You can tend strangers' orphaned children,yet you make your own son an orphan. Will you dothis? No, a thousand times, no, you cannot! Do notweep so, you must not weep! Hear me, hear me!For my sake, leave this Spaniard! You will not
repent it. I have just been dreaming of the nest Iwill build for you. There I will cherish and care foryou, and you shall keep as many orphan childrenas you choose. Leave him, mother, you must leavehim for the sake of your child, your Ulrich!""Oh, God! oh, God!" she sobbed. "I will try, yes, Iwill try….My child, my dear child!"Ulrich clasped her closely in his arms, kissed herhair, and said, softly: "I know, I know, you needlove, and you shall find it with me.""With you!" she repeated, sobbing. Then releasingherself from his embrace she hurried to thefeverish woman, at whose summons she had lefther tent.As morning dawned, she returned home and foundZorrillo still awake. He enquired about her patient,and told her he had given the child something todrink while she was away.Flora could not help weeping bitterly again, andZorrillo, noticing it, exclaimed chidingly: "Each hashis own griefs to bear, it is not wise to takestrangers' troubles so deeply to heart.""Strangers' troubles," she repeated, mournfully,and went to rest.White-haired woman, why have you remained soyoung? All the cares and sorrows of youth and ageare torturing you at the same time! One love is
fighting a mortal battle with another in your breast.Which will conquer?She knows, she knew it ere she entered the tent.The mother fled from the child, but she cannotabandon her new-found son. Oh, maternal love,thou dost hover in radiant bliss far above theclouds, and amid choirs of angels! Oh, maternalheart, thou dost bleed pierced with swords, morefull of sorrows than any other!Poor, poor Florette! On this July morning she wasenduring superhuman tortures, all the sins she hadcommitted arrayed themselves against her,shrieking into her ear that she was a lost woman,and there could be no pardon for her either in thisworld or the next. Yet!—the clouds drift by, birds ofpassage migrate, the musician wanders singingfrom land to land, finds love, and remorselesslystrips off light fetters to seek others. His childimitates the father, who had followed the exampleof his, the same thing occurring back to theirremotest ancestors! But eternal justice? Will itmeasure the fluttering leaf by the same standardas the firmly-rooted plant?When Zorrillo saw Flora by the daylight, he said,kindly: "You have been weeping?""Yes," she answered, fixing her eyes on theground. He thought she was anxious, as on aformer occasion, lest his election to the office ofEletto might prove his ruin, so he drew her towardshim, exclaiming "Have no fear, Bonita. If they
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