Prince Otto, a Romance , livre ebook

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117 pages

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pubOne.info thank you for your continued support and wish to present you this new edition. You shall seek in vain upon the map of Europe for the bygone state of Grunewald. An independent principality, an infinitesimal member of the German Empire, she played, for several centuries, her part in the discord of Europe; and, at last, in the ripeness of time and at the spiriting of several bald diplomatists, vanished like a morning ghost. Less fortunate than Poland, she left not a regret behind her; and the very memory of her boundaries has faded.

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	23 octobre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819917618
Langue	English

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BOOK I - PRINCE ERRANT
CHAPTER I - IN WHICH THE PRINCE DEPARTS ON ANADVENTURE
You shall seek in vain upon the map of Europe forthe bygone state of Grunewald. An independent principality, aninfinitesimal member of the German Empire, she played, for severalcenturies, her part in the discord of Europe; and, at last, in theripeness of time and at the spiriting of several bald diplomatists,vanished like a morning ghost. Less fortunate than Poland, she leftnot a regret behind her; and the very memory of her boundaries hasfaded.
It was a patch of hilly country covered with thickwood. Many streams took their beginning in the glens of Grunewald,turning mills for the inhabitants. There was one town, Mittwalden,and many brown, wooden hamlets, climbing roof above roof, along thesteep bottom of dells, and communicating by covered bridges overthe larger of the torrents. The hum of watermills, the splash ofrunning water, the clean odour of pine sawdust, the sound and smellof the pleasant wind among the innumerable army of the mountainpines, the dropping fire of huntsmen, the dull stroke of thewood-axe, intolerable roads, fresh trout for supper in the cleanbare chamber of an inn, and the song of birds and the music of thevillage-bells - these were the recollections of the Grunewaldtourist.
North and east the foothills of Grunewald sank withvarying profile into a vast plain. On these sides many small statesbordered with the principality, Gerolstein, an extinct grand duchy,among the number. On the south it marched with the comparativelypowerful kingdom of Seaboard Bohemia, celebrated for its flowersand mountain bears, and inhabited by a people of singularsimplicity and tenderness of heart. Several intermarriages had, inthe course of centuries, united the crowned families of Grunewaldand Maritime Bohemia; and the last Prince of Grunewald, whosehistory I purpose to relate, drew his descent through Perdita, theonly daughter of King Florizel the First of Bohemia. That theseintermarriages had in some degree mitigated the rough, manly stockof the first Grunewalds, was an opinion widely held within theborders of the principality. The charcoal burner, the mountainsawyer, the wielder of the broad axe among the congregated pines ofGrunewald, proud of their hard hands, proud of their shrewdignorance and almost savage lore, looked with an unfeigned contempton the soft character and manners of the sovereign race.
The precise year of grace in which this tale beginsshall be left to the conjecture of the reader. But for the seasonof the year (which, in such a story, is the more important of thetwo) it was already so far forward in the spring, that whenmountain people heard horns echoing all day about the north-westcorner of the principality, they told themselves that Prince Ottoand his hunt were up and out for the last time till the return ofautumn.
At this point the borders of Grunewald descendsomewhat steeply, here and there breaking into crags; and thisshaggy and trackless country stands in a bold contrast to thecultivated plain below. It was traversed at that period by tworoads alone; one, the imperial highway, bound to Brandenau inGerolstein, descended the slope obliquely and by the easiestgradients. The other ran like a fillet across the very forehead ofthe hills, dipping into savage gorges, and wetted by the spray oftiny waterfalls. Once it passed beside a certain tower or castle,built sheer upon the margin of a formidable cliff, and commanding avast prospect of the skirts of Grunewald and the busy plains ofGerolstein. The Felsenburg (so this tower was called) served now asa prison, now as a hunting-seat; and for all it stood so lonesometo the naked eye, with the aid of a good glass the burghers ofBrandenau could count its windows from the lime-tree terrace wherethey walked at night.
In the wedge of forest hillside enclosed between theroads, the horns continued all day long to scatter tumult; and atlength, as the sun began to draw near to the horizon of the plain,a rousing triumph announced the slaughter of the quarry. The firstand second huntsman had drawn somewhat aside, and from the summitof a knoll gazed down before them on the drooping shoulders of thehill and across the expanse of plain. They covered their eyes, forthe sun was in their faces. The glory of its going down wassomewhat pale. Through the confused tracery of many thousands ofnaked poplars, the smoke of so many houses, and the evening steamascending from the fields, the sails of a windmill on a gentleeminence moved very conspicuously, like a donkey's ears. And hardby, like an open gash, the imperial high-road ran straightsun-ward, an artery of travel.
There is one of nature's spiritual ditties, that hasnot yet been set to words or human music: 'The Invitation to theRoad'; an air continually sounding in the ears of gipsies, and towhose inspiration our nomadic fathers journeyed all their days. Thehour, the season, and the scene, all were in delicate accordance.The air was full of birds of passage, steering westward andnorthward over Grunewald, an army of specks to the up-looking eye.And below, the great practicable road was bound for the samequarter.
But to the two horsemen on the knoll this spiritualditty was unheard. They were, indeed, in some concern of mind,scanning every fold of the subjacent forest, and betraying bothanger and dismay in their impatient gestures.
'I do not see him, Kuno,' said the first huntsman,'nowhere - not a trace, not a hair of the mare's tail! No, sir,he's off; broke cover and got away. Why, for twopence I would hunthim with the dogs!'
'Mayhap, he's gone home,' said Kuno, but withoutconviction.
'Home!' sneered the other. 'I give him twelve daysto get home. No, it's begun again; it's as it was three years ago,before he married; a disgrace! Hereditary prince, hereditary fool!There goes the government over the borders on a grey mare. What'sthat? No, nothing - no, I tell you, on my word, I set more store bya good gelding or an English dog. That for your Otto!'
'He's not my Otto,' growled Kuno.
'Then I don't know whose he is,' was the retort.
'You would put your hand in the fire for himto-morrow,' said Kuno, facing round.
'Me!' cried the huntsman. 'I would see him hanged!I'm a Grunewald patriot - enrolled, and have my medal, too; and Iwould help a prince! I'm for liberty and Gondremark.'
'Well, it's all one,' said Kuno. 'If anybody saidwhat you said, you would have his blood, and you know it.'
'You have him on the brain,' retorted his companion.'There he goes!' he cried, the next moment.
And sure enough, about a mile down the mountain, arider on a white horse was seen to flit rapidly across a heathyopen and vanish among the trees on the farther side.
'In ten minutes he'll be over the border intoGerolstein,' said Kuno. 'It's past cure.'
'Well, if he founders that mare, I'll never forgivehim,' added the other, gathering his reins.
And as they turned down from the knoll to rejointheir comrades, the sun dipped and disappeared, and the woods fellinstantly into the gravity and greyness of the early night.
CHAPTER II - IN WHICH THE PRINCE PLAYSHAROUN-AL-RASCHID
THE night fell upon the Prince while he wasthreading green tracks in the lower valleys of the wood; and thoughthe stars came out overhead and displayed the interminable order ofthe pine-tree pyramids, regular and dark like cypresses, theirlight was of small service to a traveller in such lonely paths, andfrom thenceforth he rode at random. The austere face of nature, theuncertain issue of his course, the open sky and the free air,delighted him like wine; and the hoarse chafing of a river on hisleft sounded in his ears agreeably.
It was past eight at night before his toil wasrewarded and he issued at last out of the forest on the firm whitehigh-road. It lay downhill before him, with a sweeping eastwardtrend, faintly bright between the thickets; and Otto paused andgazed upon it. So it ran, league after league, still joiningothers, to the farthest ends of Europe, there skirting thesea-surge, here gleaming in the lights of cities; and theinnumerable army of tramps and travellers moved upon it in alllands as by a common impulse, and were now in all places drawingnear to the inn door and the night's rest. The pictures swarmed andvanished in his brain; a surge of temptation, a beat of all hisblood, went over him, to set spur to the mare and to go on into theunknown for ever. And then it passed away; hunger and fatigue, andthat habit of middling actions which we call common sense, resumedtheir empire; and in that changed mood his eye lighted upon twobright windows on his left hand, between the road and river.
He turned off by a by-road, and in a few minutes hewas knocking with his whip on the door of a large farmhouse, and achorus of dogs from the farmyard were making angry answer. A verytall, old, white-headed man came, shading a candle, at the summons.He had been of great strength in his time, and of a handsomecountenance; but now he was fallen away, his teeth were quite gone,and his voice when he spoke was broken and falsetto.
'You will pardon me,' said Otto. 'I am a travellerand have entirely lost my way.'
'Sir,' said the old man, in a very stately, shakymanner, 'you are at the River Farm, and I am Killian Gottesheim, atyour disposal. We are here, sir, at about an equal distance fromMittwalden in Grunewald and Brandenau in Gerolstein: six leagues toeither, and the road excellent; but there is not a wine bush, not acarter's alehouse, anywhere between. You will have to accept myhospitality for the night; rough hospitality, to which I make youfreely welcome; for, sir,' he added with a bow, 'it is God whosends the guest.'
'Amen. And I most heartily thank you,' replied Otto,bowing in his turn.
'Fritz,' said the old man, turning towards theinterior, 'lead round this gentleman's horse; and you, sir,condescend to enter.'
Otto entered a chamber occupying