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 in 2014 
 
 https://archive.org/details/titania01lind 
 
J'a wers & WeVer's £itft flu s to h 
 
 BLANCH AND ARMAND 
 
TITAN I A: 
 TALES AND LEGENDS, 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF 
 AUGUSTE LINDEN, 
 
 BY 
 
 GLtancxmantcl. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 CROSBY, NICHOLS, & Co., 
 
 Ill Washington Street. 
 
 CINCINNATI : 
 GEORGE S. BLANC HARD. 
 1 8 5 7. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S56, by 
 CROSBY, NICHOLS, & CO., 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : 
 ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY METCALF AND COMPACT. 
 
TO 
 
 MAGGIE AND MINNIE, 
 
 TWO LITTLE, GENTLE, LOVING, TWIN SPIRITS, 
 THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED, 
 BY 
 
 THE TRANSLATOR. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE PAGE, A TALE .... 1 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT, A LEGEND . 71 
 
 THE DEAR RECKONING, A TRUE STORY . 101 
 
 FILIAL LOVE, A LEGEND .... 181 
 
THE PAGE. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 BLANCHE AND ARMAND. 
 
 At a short distance from Paris lies a charm- 
 ing valley, whose green, velvety meadows are 
 watered by a little silver brook. The mur- 
 muring waves dance gayly over the white peb- 
 ble-stones, and the stream is so transparent 
 that the roots of the grasses and water-lilies 
 springing from its bed can plainly be distin- 
 guished. 
 
 The valley is narrow, and enclosed by a ridge 
 of green hills, which, however, open towards 
 the south, and admit a more extended pros- 
 pect. At this southern extremity the brook 
 " formerly meandered through a pretty village, 
 with neat, white houses, each surrounded by 
 a well-kept garden of flowers, vegetables, or 
 fruit 
 
4 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 At the end of the village, apart from the rest, 
 stood a somewhat larger dwelling. It was a 
 simple but cheerful country-house, whose owner, 
 M. de Saint- Alme, had formerly lived in Paris, 
 but had removed thence, and at the time of our 
 story dwelt with his family in great retirement 
 at the cottage. 
 
 At one extremity of the simple flower-garden 
 encircling M. de Saint- Alme's dwelling, rose a 
 close avenue of lofty beech-trees leading to the 
 main entrance of a massive building of gray 
 stone. This edifice, or castle, was built in the 
 old style ; the grass growing between the stones 
 paving the court-yard gave evidence that no 
 cheerful or order-loving spirit here presided over 
 the niceties of external appearance. 
 
 This was indeed the case. Count Roger de 
 Clairville, an old knight who had won his spurs 
 under King Henry the Fourth, had here, during 
 many years, led a solitary and secluded life. 
 Count Roger had loved no one except his 
 king, Henry, and after the death of his idol, 
 feeling no affection towards the next in suc- 
 cession, Louis, he retired to his family seat, 
 where he lived in utter solitude, almost forgot- 
 
BLANCHE AND ARMAND. 
 
 5 
 
 ten by a world in which he no longer felt the 
 least interest. 
 
 His dark locks had grown gray, his knightly 
 spurs were rusty, and his features, once hand- 
 some and winning, had become hard, stern, and 
 angular. His manners had lost their grace, and 
 his heart its warmth. In this solitude he for- 
 got all except himself and his lost sovereign ; 
 even a nephew whom he had once fondly loved 
 as a charming and engaging child was no longer 
 remembered. 
 
 The Count's sorrow was not then very pro- 
 found when he received a letter sealed with 
 black, announcing this nephew's death, and 
 furthermore containing a request that he would 
 adopt the nephew's orphan son. This was a 
 most unexpected and unwelcome proposition, 
 for since the Count was himself a boy, no child 
 had been seen in the castle, nor had the silence 
 of the lonely halls been broken by the cheerful 
 echoes of a glad young voice. 
 
 But there was no way of avoiding this ac- 
 cession to the family. A few weeks passed, 
 and the Count's great nephew, Armand Clair- 
 ville, then thirteen years of age, arrived at the 
 
6 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 castle. The bold, active, and lively boy gazed 
 in astonishment upon his cold, stiff uncle, and 
 the grimness of all surrounding him ; the very 
 furniture seemed made rather to repel than to 
 invite ! 
 
 Armand soon began to find Clairville Hall 
 indescribably dull and desolate ; he made va- 
 rious excursions into the neighborhood, and 
 quite naturally found his way to M. de Saint- 
 Alme's house. 
 
 Let us accompany him thither upon one of 
 his many visits. 
 
 The clock had struck two in the afternoon, 
 and the sun shone bright and warm through 
 the thick branches of the beech avenue, as Ar- 
 mand hastened down its almost untrodden side- 
 walk with rapid steps and eager glances. 
 
 Armand was a handsome boy, with fine fea- 
 tures, a noble bearing, and easy, pleasing man- 
 ners. Gayety and light-heartedness shone out 
 from the dark eyes, which were nevertheless 
 filled with intelligence and spirit, while the 
 curling upper lip of the finely chiselled mouth 
 betrayed the fact that pride and self-will were 
 by no means unknown to the boy. 
 
BLANCHE AND ARMAND. 
 
 7 
 
 He soon reached Saint- Alme's house, and 
 stepped lightly into the flower-garden, in one 
 corner of which stood an arbor covered with 
 the crimson blossoms of the flowering bean. 
 He hastened thither. 
 
 Under the blooming vines sat a little girl of 
 about twelve years old. The trellis, with its 
 glowing crimson and green arabesques, formed 
 a graceful frame in which was set the love- 
 ly image of the child, who, with her sim- 
 ple white dress, and blonde curls confined 
 by a blue ribbon, was really charming to 
 look upon. 
 
 She did not perceive Armand, for he glided 
 over the gravel walk with noiseless steps. At 
 length he stood behind her, and, laying his 
 hand upon her eyes, said in a feigned voice, 
 with a great effort to attain an unfathomable 
 bass : " Can you guess, Miss Saint- Alme, 
 who stands behind you ? " 
 
 " O it can be no one but the proud lord of 
 Clairville Hall ! " cried she. " That will do, 
 Armand. I knew you at once, in spite of your 
 deep voice." 
 
 " You must be a little fairy, Blanche, or 
 
8 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 you never could have guessed," laughed Ar- 
 mand. 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! " replied Blanche, warningly 
 raising her forefinger, " you must not speak of 
 fames or magic, my friend ; do you not know 
 that even under King Charles the Seventh, all 
 were burned alive who were suspected of being 
 witches and magicians ? " 
 
 " Yes, but, my pretty little lady, King Louis 
 the Fourteenth, a very wise and enlightened 
 prince, rules the land in these days ; and be- 
 sides, Blanche, you do not look the least like 
 a witch." 
 
 Blanche cast her eyes over her pretty little 
 figure, and then turned them with a satisfied 
 glance towards her friend, who laughed aloud 
 as he followed their direction. 
 
 " Well, really, I cannot see what you find to 
 laugh at so incessantly, Armand," said the 
 child, feeling somewhat hurt at the boy's ex- 
 aggerated gayety. 
 
 " I only laugh for joy on your account, and 
 because I am so well pleased with you to-day ; 
 but I must think a wreath of forget-me-nots 
 would be much more becoming than that faded 
 
BLANCHE AND ARMAND. 
 
 9 
 
 blue ribbon. Come, let us go to the meadow 
 and twine a garland of the lovely blue star- 
 flowers ; you know where they grow, beside 
 the brook." 
 
 Blanche put on her straw hat and willingly 
 followed. The children soon reached the brook, 
 gathered the flowers, and seated themselves on 
 the grassy bank to weave them into garlands. 
 
 " Do you know," said Blanche, confidentially, 
 "that I really cannot understand how you 
 manage to live up there at the castle ; you 
 must surely see more bats and owls than hu- 
 man beings ? " 
 
 " You are quite right, Blanche, and I often 
 feel dreadfully melancholy when I walk up 
 and down the vast halls, with all the portraits 
 of the old counts and knights staring down 
 upon me, and the sound of my own footsteps 
 echoing hollowly after me as they fall upon 
 the stone pavement of the floors. B-r-r-r ! — I 
 often shudder with horror when I hear noth- 
 ing but the screeching of owls ; and when the 
 harsh croaking of the chattering daws is the 
 only reply I can win to the sound of my own 
 voice." 
 
10 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 " But how can your uncle live in such a 
 desolate place ? " 
 
 " O very well ! He chose it of his own free 
 will. My father often told me how Count 
 Roger was once as lively and gay-hearted as 
 any of us; but after King Henry's death he 
 suddenly became serious and melancholy, and 
 soon after chose this solitary life." 
 
 " But it is really cruel in the Count to suffer 
 your life to be so lonely and joyless," contin- 
 ued Blanche. " He adopted you of his own 
 free will, and he ought to see that you are 
 happy." 
 
 " Not quite of his own free will," replied 
 Armand, seriously, " and it is just that which 
 troubles me. When my father was dying, he 
 begged the Count to adopt me, which he did, 
 — but I can plainly see that he does not love 
 me." 
 
 " Is he then harsh to you, my good Ar- 
 mand ? " 
 
 64 O no, not harsh ! but he cares nothing at 
 all about me. He scarcely replies to my salu- 
 tations when we meet, he never laughs with 
 me, and I am never expected to talk where he 
 
BLANCHE AND ARMAND. 
 
 11 
 
 is, or relate to him any of my little adventures, 
 or the feelings which every one who is young 
 and lively must desire to communicate. And 
 what is worse than all, he lets me learn noth- 
 ing, and never gives me a friendly look." 
 
 " Ah ! that is very bad, not to let you learn 
 anything," replied Blanche, solemnly, "for I 
 really think you know very little ! " 
 
 Armand blushed, and said in a low tone : 
 " When I was at Brienne, I was quite an 
 industrious scholar ; but I should dearly love 
 to ride, fight, and dance well, and of those 
 three things I am very ignorant." 
 
 " You would like to be a soldier then ? " 
 
 Armand's eyes glistened as he said, in an 
 excited tone : " Ha ! when I even think of it, my 
 heart beats with joy and desire ! O Blanche, 
 just fancy me at King Louis's court, a bold 
 knight, courageous and dauntless as his Majes- 
 ty himself! Only think of a tournament in 
 honor of the queen's birthday; the ladies in 
 waving plumes and dazzling jewels lean over 
 the balcony and look down upon the noble 
 lords and knights who are about to combat in 
 their honor ! O, I can imagine it all so vividly ! 
 
12 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 I can see you, a beautiful lady in a light blue 
 dress, with blue ribbons in your hair, sitting 
 on the balcony, while I enter the lists on my 
 black Arabian steed. I wear your colors, 
 scarf and plume of heaven's own hue, and 
 stand ready to combat with the proudest 
 knight of them all! The strife begins, blow 
 follows blow; the struggle is hard, but the 
 adversary gives way, — I grow more impetu- 
 ous, and finally see him fall. I spring from 
 my steed, and while the clang of the trumpets 
 announces my victory, I loose my enemy's 
 helmet as he kneels for mercy at my feet. 
 Then Blanche, I hasten to you, I humbly 
 lower my lance, and you crown me with a 
 laurel-wreath, in token of your favor and my 
 victory ! " 
 
 Blanche looked half bewildered as she gazed 
 upon the excited countenance of the enthusias- 
 tic boy, who had so suddenly admitted her into 
 the secrets of his lofty and ambitious dreams ; 
 but when he ceased to speak, she sadly shook 
 her head and said : " O do not wish to be at 
 King Louis's court: it is not well to be there !" 
 
 The boy looked astonished. 
 
BLANCHE AND ARMAND. 
 
 13 
 
 " You see," she continued, in a mysterious 
 and confidential manner, " we were very un- 
 happy in Paris. My father was an officer in 
 the king's life-guards, and he and mamma 
 were very often with the king and queen. 
 But they had one bitter enemy, the Marquis 
 de Maine, who slandered my father to his 
 Majesty, for he said my father had entered 
 into engagements with England and Holland 
 prejudicial to King Louis's interests. I do not 
 understand much about it, but I do know that 
 papa lost the king's favor, and was forced to 
 leave Paris very hastily. Now you see, Ar- 
 mand, why he is so sad and quiet, and never 
 seems cheerful and merry, although mamma 
 does all she can to render him happy. And 
 for that reason she never complains, although 
 forced to renounce, within the little rooms and 
 bare walls of our cottage, all that she was 
 accustomed to see around her in Paris. Ah! 
 there we had a beautiful palace, with splen- 
 did halls hung with embroidered tapestry ! O, 
 everything was so magnificent!" 
 
 " Poor Blanche ! and now you must give 
 it all up ! " cried Armand, sympathizingly. 
 
14 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 " O, I do not care much, for the narrow 
 streets in Paris do not please me half so 
 well as these meadows and our flower-garden. 
 Indeed, I would much prefer remaining here, 
 if my father's reputation were only vindicated ; 
 for I heard him say very lately, ' Believe me, 
 Margery,' — that is what he calls mamma, — 
 ' I would willingly renounce honor, glory, and 
 wealth, if my king were only convinced of my 
 innocence ; but that he, my benefactor, must 
 think me false and ungrateful, is to me a cause 
 of the most poignant and incurable sorrow.' " 
 
 " But why did the Marquis de Maine slan- 
 der your father?" 
 
 " I do not understand that precisely, but I 
 think it was somehow this way : King Louis 
 had made an agreement with the Netherlands, 
 of which King Charles of England was to 
 know nothing ; but it suddenly came out that 
 some one had betrayed his Majesty's plans to 
 the English king, and my father was accused 
 of having been the traitor. Only a few days 
 since, I heard papa say, ' I believe that De 
 Maine was the real traitor, and that he ac- 
 cused me in order to screen himself.' " 
 
BLANCHE AND ARMAND. 
 
 15 
 
 "But your father can prove that to the 
 king!" cried Armand, eagerly. 
 
 " What are you dreaming of ? It is only 
 a suspicion ; he has no proofs, and the Marquis 
 de Maine is too cunning to be found off his 
 guard." 
 
 " Ah, good Blanche, that is very sad ! " 
 
 " You see now how it is at court, and you 
 should not wish to be there." 
 
 " Do not be vexed with me, but indeed I 
 cannot help longing to go. O how glorious 
 Paris must be ! " 
 
 " Were you never there, Armand ? " 
 
 " Only once, during a few days. A distant 
 relative of my dear mother lives quite near 
 the Louvre. O how charming it was to look 
 out of the windows and see the fine knights 
 and ladies! But although I am a baron's 
 son, I could never be presented to the king, 
 because I am poor and friendless ; and Count 
 Roger will surely never think of taking me 
 to Paris : he will let me live and die in this 
 desert ! " 
 
 " And do you feel very unhappy here, my 
 poor Armand ? " 
 
16 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 " Were it not for you, I should have run 
 away long ago. I tell you that openly, for 
 my cousin, though he is only a poor official, 
 and has no fortune, is very kind and friendly 
 towards me ; and I am quite sure that, if 
 I were with him, I should never die with 
 ennui! " 
 
 " O look, Armand, what a strange caval- 
 cade !" suddenly cried Blanche, fairly clap- 
 ping her hands with delight. 
 
 Armand's eyes followed the direction point- 
 ed out to him by Blanche. Quite near him, 
 on the meadow-road, pranced a snow-white 
 steed, on whose green-velvet saddle sat a 
 beautiful lady. A dark, richly embroidered 
 riding-habit hung nearly to the ground, and 
 on the lady's slender hand sat a falcon, with 
 piercing eyes and feathered top-knot. At her 
 left, only a few steps behind, followed two 
 other ladies ; the one, a youthful maiden with 
 a beaming countenance and beautiful black 
 hair, the other a much older woman, and far 
 less lovely and attractive. Several cavaliers, 
 with richly caparisoned steeds, closed the pro- 
 cession. 
 
BLANCHE AND ARMAND. 
 
 17 
 
 The lady who rode the white horse, and 
 who was unmistakably the superior in rank, 
 gazed a moment inquiringly upon the chil- 
 dren's faces, and then said, smiling : " Can you 
 tell us how we may the most readily regain 
 the main road to Paris ? We have lost our 
 way during the chase, and desire to reach the 
 city before evening." 
 
 Armand reverentially lifted his velvet cap, 
 and replied : " You will find no difficulty in 
 so doing, noble lady ; for if you turn to the 
 right of this ridge, you will reach the main 
 road in a quarter of an hour." 
 
 " What are your names, my children ? " 
 
 Armand saw, from his little friend's evident 
 embarrassment, that she had no desire to tell 
 her name, and he was sufficiently adroit to 
 turn the question upon himself alone, by reply- 
 ing at once : " My name is Armand de Clair- 
 ville. noble lady." 
 
 * Clairville ? " The lady seemed to be seek- 
 ing some lost remembrance ; the name was 
 familiar to her, but she could not recall when 
 and in what connection she had heard it. 
 
 She turned an inquiring glance upon her 
 2 
 
18 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 young companion, who immediately replied, 
 in a cheerful tone : " Ah, Madame ! Count 
 Roger de Clairville is the name of the strange 
 hermit who preferred a self-inflicted banish- 
 ment, passed in mourning and lamentations 
 over our late blessed King Henry, to taking 
 service under his glorious son and grand- 
 son." 
 
 " Ah yes ! you are right, Mademoiselle Lu- 
 cile. I remember now the strange tales I have 
 heard of this eccentric Count ; but he must be 
 a very old man, this same Roger Clairville ? " 
 
 " Nearly seventy years old, Madame," was 
 Arm and' s answer. 
 
 " But how came the old hermit to plant 
 you, the fresh young vine, in his desolate, 
 cloistral garden ? " asked the lady, graciously. 
 " Do you share Count Roger's solitude will- 
 ingly ? " 
 
 Armand gazed a moment upon the beau- 
 tiful, kind face bent down towards him, and 
 then replied, in a low tone : " O, the young 
 vine often longs to quit the melancholy shad- 
 ows of the cloistral garden, and wander forth 
 beneath the free, warm rays of the blessed 
 sun ! " 
 
BLANCHE AND ARMAND. 
 
 19 
 
 The lady smiled at the boy's frank confi- 
 dence, and continued, " And where, then, think 
 you to find the sun of your good fortune ? " 
 
 " In Paris ! only in Paris ! " was the immedi- 
 ate reply. 
 
 " Ah, boy ! that is merely a delusion of 
 your childish fancy," returned the lady seri- 
 ously. She paused a moment, and then con- 
 tinued : " Nevertheless, you may be right ; and 
 when you are older and taller, if you still long 
 to be at King Louis's court, I will myself be 
 your advocate. You have only to ask at the 
 Louvre for Madame Henriette d'Orleans."* 
 
 Armand's eyes glistened as he bowed low 
 before the kind lady, who smiled as she bade 
 him farewell, and then hastened away with 
 her companions towards the main road. 
 
 Some time elapsed before the excited boy 
 could recover from his astonishment, and 
 
 * Henrietta of Orleans was the daughter of King Charles 
 the First of England, and the wife of Philip of Orleans, King 
 Louis the Fourteenth's brother. She was no less celebrated for 
 her lofty spirit and keen intellect, than for her beauty and amia- 
 bility. She plays no insignificant part in the history of France, 
 as King Louis frequently consulted her, and relied much upon 
 her judgment. 
 
20 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 when he at length turned to look for Blanche, 
 he found her striving to conceal herself behind 
 a blooming elder-bush. 
 
 " O Blanche, come out, and do not be 
 afraid ; no one learned your name." 
 
 " That is true, but I was nevertheless recog- 
 nized. Miss Lucile de Raimond looked at 
 me a long time ; I do not care for that, be- 
 €ause she is kind and good, but the Marchion- 
 ess knew me too." 
 
 " The Marchioness ? What Marchioness ? " 
 
 " O heaven ! the proud old lady who looked 
 at us so sharply and searchingly was the 
 Marchioness de Maine, the wife of my fa- 
 ther's wicked enemy ! " 
 
 Armand looked at the child with an ex- 
 pression of doubt. 
 
 " O, believe me, it was she ! " continued 
 Blanche, half weeping ; " I know the Marchion- 
 ess's proud look too well, and even when we 
 were in Paris she was one of Madame Henri- 
 ette's * ladies of honor." 
 
 * We must here observe, that in France the king's sister-in- 
 law, that is, the wife of his eldest brother, was always called 
 Madame of France, or simply Madame, while the princess 
 royal bore the title of Mademoiselle of France. 
 
BLANCHE AND ARMAND. 
 
 21 
 
 " And Madame Henriette, did you know her 
 too ? " continued Armand, with beaming looks. 
 
 " I often heard her spoken of, and mamma 
 always said she was goodness and loveliness 
 personified." 
 
 " Come now, be consoled, my dear, sweet 
 Blanche ; only have patience for a few years, 
 and then I will go to Paris, remind Madame 
 of her promise, and when I have risen a little 
 way into King Louis's favor, I will soon con- 
 vince him of your father's innocence. The 
 king is just and gracious. You will all return 
 to court; we shall meet again, and will lead 
 a charming life ! " 
 
 Thus spake the inexperienced boy in his joy- 
 ous enthusiasm, as he strove to dry the tears 
 still flowing down his little friend's cheeks. 
 The latter did not seem to place much confi- 
 dence in Armand's future efforts, and, shaking 
 her head, said beseechingly : " O, do not wish 
 to go to Paris ; even the Princess thought 
 that my longing, and your desire for the 
 capital, were only childish fancies. O stay 
 here, where you can meet with no misfor- 
 tune ! " 
 
22 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 " Do not let it trouble you, dear ! we have 
 not come to that yet. Years must pass before 
 the Princess will be willing to present me to 
 the king, and you must see yourself, dear 
 Blanche, that I cannot live for- ever at that 
 melancholy Clairville Hall." 
 
 Blanche silently untwisted the wreath of 
 forget-me-nots, and Armand's thoughts were 
 also very far from the pleasure which the lovely 
 blossoms had shortly before promised him. 
 
 " But look, see ! what letter is this lying on 
 the grass ? Can the Princess have lost it ? " 
 
 So saying, Armand lifted a curiously folded, 
 delicately tinted paper from the very spot where 
 the beautiful rider had halted. Blanche ap- 
 proached, and, opening the proffered sheet, said 
 quietly : " It seems so, for the writing is Eng- 
 lish, and Madame is an English princess." 
 
 Armand searched in vain for the address ; 
 none could be found ; and as he was too dis- 
 creet to seek the owner through the contents, 
 he looked completely undecided as to what he 
 had better do with his newly found treasure. 
 
 " Look at the name of the writer, Armand," 
 counselled Blanche. 
 
BLANCHE AND ARMAND. 
 
 23 
 
 The boy turned the fine, scented paper round, 
 and saw in one corner of the last page the sim- 
 ple name, " Charles Nestling." 
 
 " O, that must be from Madame's brother, 
 King Charles Stuart of England ! " cried 
 Blanche, eagerly. 
 
 " The letter must then be very valuable, and 
 I will hasten and take it to her ! " said Armand 
 joyfully. 
 
 « You ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! " 
 
 " But how can you go to Paris ? " 
 
 " O, that will be very easy. Count Roger 
 will not prevent me when he learns why I 
 wish to go." 
 
 " Yes, but how will you get there ? " 
 
 " No difficulty in that, my dear, good Blanche. 
 I can ride, and if necessary I will go on foot ; 
 the distance to Paris is very short ! " 
 
 "But you will not be received at the court." 
 
 " I have the Princess's word." 
 
 " No one will believe you." 
 
 Armand turned hastily round. 
 
 " Do I then look like a liar ? O Blanche, do 
 not oppose me any longer, but let me go ; it 
 
24 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 may be God's will that I can very soon do 
 something for your father." 
 
 She gave him her hand in the most friendly 
 manner, and both returned to the cottage in 
 silence. At the garden gate, the two children 
 bade each other a solemn farewell ; Armand 
 then flew up the beech avenue, and soon ar- 
 rived, heated anxl breathless, at the castle. 
 
 The quiet of the grave reigned there, as 
 usual. The Count's three old servants, Ger- 
 main, Baptist, and Francis, stood in the ante- 
 chamber, with stiffly frizzed wigs, silk stock- 
 ings, and knee-buckles. Their steps were light, 
 their voices faint, and every word and gesture 
 which they exchanged with one another, most 
 carefully considered. 
 
 So much the more stormy seemed Armand's 
 entrance. He rushed up to the three stiff fig- 
 ures, and cried, with glowing cheeks and im- 
 ploring gestures : " Germain, now be a good 
 old man, and announce me to my uncle ! " 
 
 The three faces lengthened with amazement, 
 and Germain replied in a whisper : " Count 
 Roger de Clair ville is taking his afternoon 
 nap, and cannot be disturbed." 
 
BLANCHE AND ARMAND. 
 
 25 
 
 " Yes, but it concerns things of the highest 
 importance ! " 
 
 The three silently shrugged their shoulders. 
 
 " I will not disturb the Count long," con- 
 tinued Armand, beseechingly ; " you go, Bap- 
 tist, and announce me." 
 
 Baptist shook his head, while Francis placed 
 himself as if keeping guard before the door of 
 the Count's room, and stretched out both his 
 long arms like a sign-post. 
 
 The impatient boy begged and implored, but 
 the three could not be induced to infringe in 
 the least degree upon any command issued by 
 the Count, and kept even a closer watch over 
 their master's chamber, than old Cerberus over 
 his charge in the nether world. 
 
 After Armand had impatiently walked sev- 
 eral dozen times up and down before the my- 
 thological figures which seemed to be planted 
 in the floor, and had exhausted all his prayers 
 and threats, he finally hurried down into the 
 court-yard. 
 
 " Come, come, Mr. Armand, what has ex- 
 cited you so ? " suddenly cried a voice behind 
 him. 
 
26 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 The boy turned, and beheld the only youth- 
 ful being, except himself, dwelling within the 
 precincts of the castle. 
 
 This was a powerful, broad-shouldered lad, 
 with an open and upright countenance ; he 
 was intrusted with the care of the Count's 
 dilapidated stables, and performed the part of 
 groom. 
 
 A new ray of hope shone in Armand's soul. 
 
 " Why should I trouble myself any longer 
 with those stiff old mummies inside ? " cried 
 he. " You, John, you can help me, and you 
 alone ! " 
 
 " How so, sir ? " 
 
 u Tell me, is there not one among the horses 
 which can travel the short distance from here 
 to Paris ? " 
 
 John smiled as he replied : " O yes, there is 
 Nestor; he is not overly young, but he has 
 some strength left yet, and he was once a fine 
 horse." 
 
 " Saddle him for me, quick." 
 " Are you going to Paris, sir ? " 
 " Yes, yes ; but do not delay." 
 John looked embarrassed, and twisted his 
 cap in his hands. 
 
BLANCHE AND ARMAND. 
 
 27 
 
 Armand divined the cause of his hesitation, 
 and said quickly : " Only do it ; I will be re- 
 sponsible." 
 
 John made no farther objections, and Nestor 
 soon stood fairly saddled and bridled before 
 the excited boy. Nestor, as far as age was 
 concerned, did all possible honor to his cele- 
 brated Greek namesake ; the saddle and bridle 
 were also antiquated, and very dingy. It was 
 by no means astonishing that fashion and bril- 
 liancy had both left them, as they had been 
 wont to shine long before, in the days of King 
 Henry. 
 
 Armand sprang into the saddle, trotted as 
 swiftly as possible out of the court-yard, and 
 displayed not a few airs and graces when, a 
 few moments later, he rode past Blanche's 
 window and bowed a joyful greeting, which 
 she returned rather more seriously than was 
 pleasing to him. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 ARMAND AT THE LOUVRE. 
 
 In one of the little rooms of his modest 
 dwelling near the Louvre sat Mr. Emilius 
 Bernard, apparently seeking some reference of 
 great importance in the great law-books by 
 which he was surrounded. The young man's 
 cheerful, even joyous mien, presented a strik- 
 ing contrast to the image usually conceived of 
 a French lawyer. Emilius was in fact a mere 
 beginner ; he had but little practice, was little 
 known, and, above all, had very little money. 
 
 His rooms were miserably furnished ; the only 
 ornamental articles being a few engravings 
 hanging upon the walls, unless, indeed, a hand- 
 some guitar, with a broad band of green rib- 
 bon, might be included in the same category. 
 
 Mr. Emilius Bernard was a distant relative 
 of Armand Clairville's mother, and the boy 
 
ARMAND AT THE LOUVRE. 
 
 29 
 
 had once before visited him, as he passed 
 through Paris on his way to Clairville Hall. 
 
 Armand had left his cousin very unwilling- 
 ly, for he had found under the gay young 
 man's roof all that he had sought in vain 
 at Clairville Hall, — kindness and affection. 
 
 Twilight had nearly darkened into night, 
 when the young lawyer laid down his books 
 and stepped to the little window. 
 
 " Zounds ! " cried he suddenly, aloud, " who 
 is that galloping down the street ? Can it be 
 my handsome little cousin ? " 
 
 The next moment showed that he was not 
 mistaken, for the stately Nestor, after sundry 
 most remarkable leaps and bounds, finally 
 stopped before his door, and Armand, spring- 
 ing from his steed, cried out to Bernard, who 
 had hastened to meet him, " Have you any 
 entertainment for my horse, cousin ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; lead the old fellow this way, 
 Armand, and you will find a comfortable shel- 
 ter for him in the yard." 
 
 Nestor's wants were very modest, and were 
 consequently soon satisfied. 
 
 " But, my dear little cousin, what brings 
 
30 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 you so unexpectedly to Paris ? " asked Ber- 
 nard, tenderly pressing the boy's hand. 
 
 " Affairs of the utmost importance ; but send 
 your servant at once to brush the dust from 
 my hair and clothes. I must go without delay 
 to the Louvre ! 99 
 
 " You to the Louvre ? " cried the lawyer, 
 astounded. 
 
 " Certainly, my friend ; I must hasten and 
 set Madame Henriette's mind at rest as soon 
 as possible ! " 
 
 " The Princess Henriette ? " 
 
 " Assuredly ! " 
 
 Bernard laughed so heartily at the boy's 
 important and mysterious air, that Armand 
 finally concluded to tell him the cause of his 
 sudden journey. 
 
 Bernard listened attentively, and, as the boy 
 ended, gave him a friendly clap on the shoul- 
 der, saying: 
 
 "If I am not mistaken, your fortune is 
 made, for Madame Henrietta loves such little 
 adventures. But you must act prudently. In 
 the first place, you must wait until the morn- 
 ing, for you cannot with propriety ask an 
 
ARMAND AT THE LOUVRE. 
 
 31 
 
 audience before ; and also, your simple and 
 dusty clothes are ill suited to the halls of the 
 Louvre." 
 
 Armand looked somewhat abashed and dis- 
 heartened, but Bernard continued, consolingly : 
 
 " Leave all to me ; a furnishing-house near 
 by will supply us with a handsome suit adapt- 
 ed to your neat little figure ; you may then 
 confidently betake yourself to the palace, and 
 I have no doubt of the propriety of your be- 
 havior, or of your success, when once there." 
 
 Armand acquiesced, thankfully partook of 
 the refreshing supper which Bernard prepared 
 for him, and then, after his long and tiresome 
 ride, slept soundly and sweetly under his cous- 
 in's friendly roof. The latter heard him whis- 
 per during his sleep, the names of " King Louis, 
 Blanche, and Henriette." His dreams were 
 surely of the Louvre. 
 
 The next morning Armand stood with a de- 
 lighted air before Bernard's large mirror, while 
 the good-natured cousin patiently smoothed 
 and arranged the fine lace ruffles encircling the 
 boy's wrists. 
 
32 THE PAGE. 
 
 Armand wore snow-white stockings, and 
 handsome shoes with buckles and rosettes. 
 The short purple velvet breeches, and the 
 waistcoat of the same color and material, 
 were both trimmed with silver lace. A short 
 mantle of white cashmere was fastened upon 
 one shoulder and across the breast, with rich 
 silver cords and tassels. His dark hair was 
 carefully arranged in thick curls, and in his 
 hand he held a little cap with a long ostrich 
 plume. 
 
 " Heavens ! how handsome you are, Ar- 
 mand ! " cried Bernard, joyously. " You are 
 wonderfully like your mother ! " 
 
 A tear glistened in the boy's eyes ; he so 
 longed this morning for a blessing from his 
 mother, before he set out on a visit which he 
 felt might influence the whole course of his 
 life. 
 
 " Keep up your heart, my boy, and God be 
 with you ! " said Bernard, as he led him to the 
 door. 
 
 The sun was not shining without so brightly 
 as it had done the day before ; the dirty, mud- 
 dy streets gave sufficient evidence of the rain- 
 
ARMAND AT THE LOUVRE. 
 
 33 
 
 storm which had visited the city during the 
 night. 
 
 Armand carefully made his way over the 
 half-dried stones, and managed so adroitly 
 that he finally arrived at the entrance to the 
 Louvre with his handsome slippers as neat as 
 when he left his cousin's house. 
 
 Before he entered, his glance fell upon a 
 low balcony, on whose balustrade leaned sev- 
 eral prettily dressed ladies, who appeared to be 
 observing him attentively. 
 
 He looked again, and felt quite sure that 
 one of the ladies, who smiled as her eye met 
 his, was the kind-hearted Lucile de Raimond. 
 
 Armand's hand was upon his cap, but ere he 
 could make his salutation, a splendid equipage 
 rolled rapidly past him. The mud splashed 
 high over the wheels, and before Armand could 
 think of protecting himself, a horrible mass of 
 black mud had covered his white-silk stock- 
 ings and the bright borders of his pretty trou- 
 sers ; even his white cashmere mantle was all 
 spotted with great black splotches. 
 
 The boy reddened with shame and mortifi- 
 cation, cast a despairing glance over his ruined 
 
 3 
 
34 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 toilet, with difficulty repressed his rising tears, 
 and then looked up shyly towards the balcony, 
 — it was empty. 
 
 The gay equipage which had thus suddenly 
 precipitated Armand from the opening heaven 
 of his dreams, stopped at the Louvre ; an el- 
 derly gentleman, with strongly marked, unpre- 
 possessing features, descended from it, and 
 entered the palace. 
 
 Armand slunk sadly homewards. 
 
 Bernard could offer but meagre consolation, 
 for his little treasury was so exhausted, that he 
 could not even think of replacing the ruined 
 articles. What was to be done ? 
 
 The two had discussed this knotty question 
 for more than an hour without arriving at 
 any satisfactory conclusion, when suddenly a 
 strange servant in livery entered, and asked 
 whether " Mr. de Clairville " was staying 
 there. As Armand replied in the affirmative, 
 the man placed a package in his hands and 
 disappeared. 
 
 Armand looked inquiringly towards his 
 cousin, who merely shrugged his shoulders, 
 and proceeded to loosen the string bound 
 round the package. 
 
ARMAND AT THE LOUVRE. 
 
 35 
 
 A beautiful suit of light-blue silk soon lay 
 unfolded before the astonished eyes of the two 
 young people. 
 
 " Now you see, my boy, some friend has 
 taken pity on you!" 
 
 " But I have no friend except you, dear 
 Emilius." 
 
 " Then it must have been a fairy," said the 
 other, laughing. " But no matter for that now ; 
 dress yourself as quickly as you can, and you 
 will still have time once more to try your 
 fortune." 
 
 The clothes fitted as if they had been pur- 
 posely made for Armand, and he soon stood, 
 handsomer than ever, before his astonished 
 cousin. 
 
 This time he reached the palace without 
 any accidents, and was surprised at the alac- 
 rity with which a richly attired valet led him 
 up the broad marble staircase. 
 
 They finally stopped in a long, vaulted hall, 
 with lofty windows and white marble pillars. 
 The valet bade him wait there, and entered a 
 side-door. 
 
 Armand's heart beat loudly, his rapid pulse 
 
36 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 was almost visible, and his agitation was still 
 increasing, when the folding doors flew open. 
 
 Armand gazed in breathless expectation ; a 
 lady and gentleman advanced towards him ; 
 could it be Henrietta of France herself? But 
 no; — before Armand stood the Marchioness 
 de Maine, with her freezing glance, and at 
 her side walked the gentleman whose car- 
 riage-wheels had irretrievably ruined his fine 
 clothes. 
 
 The boy bowed slightly; the lady passed 
 proudly on, without noticing his salutation, 
 and accompanied the gentleman to the en- 
 trance of the hall. Ere she returned, the valet 
 again appeared at the side-door, and beckoned 
 Armand to follow him. 
 
 Within opened a large, handsome room, 
 with embroidered tapestry and fleecy carpet. 
 In the centre of the chamber stood a young 
 girl, who hastened to meet Armand. It was 
 Lucile de E,aimond, who smiled as she said : 
 " Do you wish to speak with Madame Henri- 
 ette ? " 
 
 " Such is my most earnest desire." 
 
 "You are speedy in gratifying your longing 
 
ARMAND AT THE LOUVRE. 
 
 37 
 
 to visit the court and Madame ; we did not 
 think to have seen you yet for several years." 
 
 " And I should certainly not have ventured 
 so soon to trespass upon her Royal Highness's 
 favor, had I not yesterday found this letter, 
 which I am quite sure must have been lost 
 by Madame." 
 
 " O, how rejoiced the Princess will be ! " 
 cried Lucile ; " it is a letter from her royal 
 brother of England, which she would have 
 been deeply grieved to have lost ; I will go at 
 once and announce you." 
 
 After a few moments the young lady re- 
 turned, and led the astonished boy through a 
 suit of apartments far surpassing in splendor 
 and magnificence all his most brilliant dreams. 
 
 At the end of this gorgeous array of rooms 
 and halls, Lucile raised a rich green damask 
 curtain from a side entrance, and — Armand 
 stood before the Princess ! 
 
 The room into which Armand now entered 
 was small, but most charmingly furnished and 
 decorated. The painted walls glittered with 
 foreign birds and flowers ; parrots and birds 
 of paradise were gracefully poised upon long 
 
38 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 slender stems of gorgeous flowers, and all were 
 so naturally delineated upon the white satin 
 ground that every one must at first be tempted 
 to deem them real. Chandeliers and side- 
 lights were hung from the ceiling and the 
 walls, and a costly Turkey carpet repeated 
 upon the floor the wonderful birds and flowers 
 on the tapestry. In the middle of the apart- 
 ment stood a sofa of white satin, on which 
 sat Henrietta of Orleans, with a richly gilded 
 harp at her side. 
 
 Armand stood at the entrance, speechless 
 and immovable ; the Princess smiled, and 
 beckoned him to approach. 
 
 The light waving of her hand aroused him 
 from his stupor ; the next moment he knelt 
 reverentially before the noble lady, and pre- 
 sented her with the letter carefully wrapped in 
 satin paper. 
 
 The Princess hastily grasped the little pack- 
 age, unfolded the letter, and then said joyfully: 
 " You have done me a great service, greater 
 perhaps than yon are aware of; this letter 
 from my royal brother deserves a better fate 
 than to be forgotten and destroyed on the 
 meadows of Clairville Hall." 
 
ARMAND AT THE LOUVRE. 
 
 39 
 
 Armand, although generally so prompt and 
 self-possessed, could not as yet command a 
 single word ; but when Lucile, in accordance 
 with her mistress's command, had placed the 
 letter in a beautifully ornamented portfolio, 
 and the latter turned an inquiring glance upon 
 him, his good understanding and fine tact 
 taught him how to win the favor of the 
 Princess. 
 
 Henrietta of Orleans was celebrated for a 
 courteous affability, and a considerate gentle- 
 ness, which won all hearts. Through her fa- 
 thers unhappy end she had early in life be- 
 come acquainted with its most bitter reverses, 
 and in the midst of splendor and elevation 
 never forgot to turn a willing ear to the hum- 
 blest petitioner. 
 
 The bold and ardent but intelligent boy ex- 
 cited her interest ; she laughed as she listened 
 to his account of the monotonous life at Clair- 
 ville Hall, and although Armand touched as 
 lightly as possible upon his uncle's peculiari- 
 ties, the benevolent lady could not but see 
 that such a mode of existence must be unen- 
 durable to the high-spirited boy. 
 
40 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 Lucile de Raimond aided the boy in his 
 candid account of himself by sundry friendly 
 nods and smiles, for she was as yet herself 
 half a child, kind, ingenuous, and joyous. 
 
 While Armand with glowing cheeks and 
 glistening eyes still stood before the Princess, 
 the Marchioness de Maine, who filled the post 
 of mistress of ceremonies, suddenly entered, 
 and, bowing deeply, announced, " His Majes- 
 ty, King Louis ! " 
 
 Henrietta rose, and quickly approached the 
 entrance ; the heavy curtains parted, and 
 Louis the Fourteenth stood upon the thresh- 
 old. 
 
 The youthful monarch possessed a dazzling 
 and surprising beauty, and his whole bearing 
 was faultless ; every gesture bore the stamp 
 of knightly gallantry. 
 
 Armand scarcely breathed; to be so near 
 his venerated King! — that was a happiness 
 he had not even ventured to imagine. 
 
 King Louis's glittering eye rested a moment 
 upon the boy, and then, hastening to greet his 
 sister-in-law, he gallantly kissed her hand, and 
 said, " I did not know that Madame was still, 
 at this hour, giving audience." 
 
ARMAND AT THE LOUVRE. 
 
 41 
 
 " The hour was over long ago, your Majesty; 
 but Armand de Clairville may esteem himself 
 very fortunate that, through his tardiness, I 
 have had an opportunity of presenting him to 
 your Majesty, and of recommending him to 
 your favor." 
 
 Armand's heart beat loudly as he made a 
 profound reverence. The King gave him a 
 scrutinizing look, and the Princess made use 
 of the pause to relate in as few words as possi- 
 ble the circumstance which had brought the 
 boy to her. 
 
 As she mentioned the letter, the King said 
 eagerly : " I am truly glad, Madame, that the 
 letter from England did not fall into strange 
 hands, and it was precisely upon matters per- 
 taining to England that I ventured to intrude 
 upon your Highness." 
 
 King Louis was at that time endeavoring 
 to prevent King Charles the Second of Eng- 
 land from entering into an alliance with Hol- 
 land and Sweden. To attain this end, he 
 relied greatly upon the influence of his sister- 
 in-law, who was also Charles the Second's 
 own sister. The letter which Armand had 
 
42 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 found was chiefly of importance as relating 
 to this very point. 
 
 Henrietta of Orleans waved her hand, and 
 Armand, at once comprehending the mean- 
 ing of this gesture, followed Lucile into an 
 antechamber, while the Marchiones vanished 
 through an opposite door. 
 
 " O tell me quick, was the pretty little girl 
 whom I saw with you yesterday your sister ? " 
 asked Lucile as soon as they were alone. 
 
 Armand blushed with embarrassment; he 
 knew not whether he ought to mention 
 Blanche's name ; he remembered, however, 
 that the latter had herself described Miss de 
 Raimond as a kind and gentle being; and, 
 despising every appearance of falsehood, he 
 finally replied : " No, she was not my sister." 
 
 " Do not seek to mislead me ; I am sure I 
 cannot be mistaken, — it was Blanche de 
 Saint Alme." 
 
 Armand was silent. 
 
 " Do not think me inimical to her or hers," 
 continued she, earnestly ; " on the contrary, I 
 loved the pretty child, who was a playmate of 
 my younger sister, most tenderly. O, and her 
 
ARMAND AT THE LOUVRE. 
 
 43 
 
 mother was such a lovely, kind-hearted lady ! 
 Come, can you not tell me something about 
 them ? " 
 
 Armand candidly related to the sympathetic 
 Lucile all that he knew himself, but wisely 
 concealed the suspicions entertained by M. 
 de Saint Alme concerning the Marquis de 
 Maine. 
 
 " I believe you are right, and that Blanche's 
 father is innocent ; but who can prove it ? " 
 said the good-natured young girl. 
 
 Before Armand could reply, the King passed 
 out from Madame Henrietta's apartment ; he 
 again, and not without interest, observed the 
 boy, and vanished, after returning the young 
 lady's salutation. 
 
 Armand was once more bidden to the 
 Princess's presence, and was asked whether he 
 would like to be admitted as a page in her 
 establishment. 
 
 Overcome by the excess of his gratitude 
 and delight, he bent his knee before his lofty 
 benefactress. What a glorious future was ail 
 at once opened to his view ! He was to be- 
 gin his career at court, under the very eye of 
 
44 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 the Princess and of the King! If he acted 
 well, he must surely receive an appointment 
 as an officer, and then all the bold dreams 
 might be fulfilled with which he had so lavish- 
 ly entertained his little friend. 
 
 Happy beyond expression, Armand returned 
 to his cousin's modest dwelling. 
 
 4 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 Armand must of course obtain his uncle's 
 consent before he could accept his new ap- 
 pointment. 
 
 Count Roger receiyed the boy on his return 
 with considerably more warmth than he had 
 ever before shown towards him, and listened 
 to his account of his adventures with more 
 interest than he had felt for anything since 
 King Henry's death. Armand's lively descrip- 
 tions, the enthusiastic picture which he drew 
 of the monarch, awakened in the old gray- 
 haired man pleasant memories of his own 
 youth, when he had dwelt in the same palpce, 
 near his idolized sovereign. 
 
 Count Roger had become entirely indiffer- 
 ent towards the exterior world, but he could 
 
46 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 not avoid both feeling and showing an interest, 
 if only a fleeting one, in his nephew's plans 
 and hopes for the future. He settled a con- 
 siderable sum upou the boy, who was entirely 
 dependent upon him, and, giving him his bless- 
 ing, sent him to Paris ; but when Armand's 
 light steps no more resounded through the old 
 halls at Clairville, the aged warrior's life be- 
 came more quiet, monotonous, and desolate 
 than ever. 
 
 Parting from Blanche cost both children 
 many tears, and the little girl said sorrowfully : 
 " I knew well that, when you had once been 
 to Paris, you would never be content to dwell 
 in our lonely valley ; I saw that in your glisten- 
 ing eyes, when Madame Henriette promised to 
 become your advocate. It will be a long, long 
 time before we will meet again, my good Ar- 
 mand ! " 
 
 " Do not think so, my dear, sweet Blanche ; 
 I will come sometimes and see you and my 
 good uncle ; besides, I will often think of you, 
 and then — " 
 
 Blanche looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 " You see," continued he, seizing her hand, 
 
THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 47 
 
 " I must always think that you will return to 
 Paris, and that your parents will be as happy 
 and prosperous as they ever were." 
 
 The child doubtingly shook her head, and 
 the two parted. 
 
 Armand de Clairville was the handsomest 
 page in Henrietta of Orleans's household. 
 Graceful, prudent, and witty, he soon capti- 
 vated all around him, and his mistress treated 
 him more as a beloved, spoiled child than as 
 a subordinate. He had several hours during 
 the day unoccupied ; and, following the counsel 
 of Lucile, who was kind as a sister towards 
 him, he employed them in study, and in ex- 
 tending the circle of his acquirements. It 
 appeared that Lucile's father, Count Raimond, 
 had been a friend of his own dead father's, and 
 the Count, remembering with pleasure his for- 
 mer intimate relations, neglected no opportu- 
 nity of serving the orphan boy. 
 
 Mr. Ernilius Bernard was quite proud of his 
 handsome little cousin, who had long since im- 
 parted to him his conviction that he was in- 
 debted for the pretty blue silk costume to Miss 
 
48 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 Lucile, who had witnessed from her mother's 
 window his mishap and confusion. 
 
 Although Armand succeeded in winning 
 the good- will of nearly all around him, he was 
 less fortunate with the Marchioness de Maine 
 and her husband, — the very gentleman whose 
 equipage had ruined his first costume. The 
 Marchioness seemed, as well as Lucile, to 
 have recognized Blanche, and although she 
 never asked whether the boy were related to 
 her or not, she always regarded him with 
 mistrust. Armand cared little for the Mar- 
 chioness's proud mien and repulsive hauteur, 
 and was very careful not to display the least 
 suspicion or sensitiveness. His demeanor to- 
 wards her was ever quiet and measured, and 
 she gradually began to look upon him less 
 sharply and more indifferently. 
 
 But Armand never forgot his promise to 
 Blanche; he retained a true and faithful re- 
 membrance of his little friend, who now dwelt 
 alone in the blooming valley, and often thought 
 of her lively playmate. 
 
 Thus passed several months. 
 
THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 49 
 
 One day, late in October, a magnificent 
 festival was in preparation at the Louvre. 
 During many days beforehand, nothing was 
 talked of in Paris but the splendor and bril- 
 liancy which on that evening were to dazzle 
 the eyes of all beholders. The festival was 
 in honor of the Queen's birthday ; and she, as 
 a Spanish Princess, was so accustomed to 
 luxury and display, that the most unparal- 
 leled magnificence was required to surprise 
 her. 
 
 In the afternoon, Henrietta of Orleans sat 
 before her rich toilet-table with a costly array 
 of shining stones, rings, and strings of pearls 
 spread out before her. She held a sparkling 
 diadem of brilliants in her hand, and playfully 
 laid it upon Lucile's dark locks. The young 
 girl knelt before her mistress, and smiled as she 
 submitted to this trial of the becomingness of 
 the ornament. Armand was also present. 
 
 " You must adorn me with this to-night," 
 said the Princess ; " it is a gift from his Maj- 
 esty, but it will scarcely appear so beautiful as 
 amid your dark locks." 
 
 Neither Lucile nor Armand could agree to 
 
 4 
 
50 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 this, for in the eyes of both, Henrietta's beauty 
 was unrivalled. The Princess lifted the gor- 
 geous diadem from Lucile's head, and wove 
 instead a string of Oriental pearls amid the 
 flowing curls, at the same time assuring the 
 enchanted girl that the pearls were for her, 
 and that she must wear them on that very- 
 evening. 
 
 While Lucile strove in vain to express her 
 thanks to her kind mistress, the latter took a 
 similar string, and, laying it in a little velvet 
 case, said to Armand : " This is for the Mar- 
 chioness de Maine ; take it to her at once, 
 Clairville!" 
 
 Armand bowed, and went, as obedience re- 
 quired, but sorely against his will, to the proud 
 lady who was ever so ungracious to him. 
 
 At the end of a short corridor he entered the 
 Marchioness's antechamber. It was empty; 
 neither the lady nor any of her servants were 
 to be seen. The room must have been occu- 
 pied but a moment before, for the little inlaid, 
 ebony writing-desk was half open. A red- 
 morocco portfolio, with silver clasps, had fallen 
 upon the floor, and the Marchioness's hand- 
 
THE DISCOVERY 
 
THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 51 
 
 some greyhound crouched growling upon the 
 floor, and used her sharp teeth to drag out a 
 multitude of letters, which were immediately 
 torn into a thousand pieces, and flew over the 
 carpet like flakes of snow. 
 
 As Armand entered, Phoebe — such was 
 the dog's name — friendlily wagged her white 
 tail, but did not cease a moment in her labor 
 of destruction* 
 
 Armand sprang upon her, and after a short 
 struggle succeeded in rescuing the portfolio, 
 which had meanwhile been so torn and bit- 
 ten that the few remaining letters dropped 
 out. He quickly gathered them together, and 
 awaited the Marchioness's arrival, that he 
 might restore to her the remnants of her 
 property. 
 
 He waited long in vain ; the lady must 
 have left the room on very pressing affairs, 
 as was proved by the open desk, with which, 
 as it appeared from closer observation, Phoebe 
 had for some time been amusing herself. 
 
 The day began to darken. Armand knew 
 that his duty required him to return to the 
 Princess, but he did not venture to leave the 
 
52 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 pearls or the open letters in the unlocked 
 room; neither could he trust them with a 
 servant, although he might easily have found 
 one. 
 
 He determined to give the ornament and 
 letters to the Marchioness herself, somewhat 
 later in the evening,* and left the room, after 
 having gathered up and laid aside the bits of 
 paper strewing the carpet. 
 
 Phoebe curled herself up, with the most in- 
 nocent air in the world, upon her mistress's 
 embroidered sofa. 
 
 The Princess had several other commissions 
 for her page which must be immediately ful- 
 filled, and which detained him until he had no 
 time to lose in making his own preparations 
 for a suitable appearance at the ball. 
 
 The Marchioness, her letters, and Phoebe 
 were soon entirely forgotton. 
 
 The gay saloons of the Louvre glittered 
 with innumerable wax-candles, whose brilliant 
 beams shone down upon thousands of bloom- 
 ing and gorgeously apparelled figures. It 
 seemed as if all the treasure-houses in Eu- 
 
THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 53 
 
 rope had been rifled of their contents, so 
 splendid and abundant were the gleaming 
 stones and precious pearls adorning both 
 cavaliers and ladies. The perfumed orange- 
 trees and exotic plants, which, notwithstanding 
 the coldness of the season, bloomed in beau- 
 tiful, graceful vases, added much to the charm 
 of the tastefully ornamented halls. 
 
 Maria Theresa,* Queen of France, entered, 
 led by her husband. She was a mild lady, 
 with gentle, almost timid features, and far 
 less beautiful than her sister-in-law. Henri- 
 etta of Orleans, led by the Duke, Philip, fol- 
 lowed the royal pair. In her train came the 
 Marchioness de Maine, with her head loftier 
 than ever; and, as if not content with the 
 already unusual height of her stature, she had 
 placed on the very top of her unlovely head 
 a cap with nodding plumes. 
 
 Henrietta's maids of honor, among whom 
 was Lucile de Raimond, in a white gauze 
 dress with the pearls in her dark hair, followed 
 
 * We should perhaps remark, that Maria Theresa of France, 
 a princess of Spanish birth, is here alluded to, and not the 
 celebrated Maria Theresa of Austria, who lived a century later. 
 
54 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 the proud mistress of ceremonies, and with 
 them came the Princess's pages. 
 
 Armand, with looks lofty as a field-marshal, 
 stepped securely and composedly over the 
 smooth and shining floor. Whoso had then 
 seen him, with his richly embroidered suit of 
 green velvet, the sleeves trimmed with white 
 satin puffs and bows of ribbon, and in his 
 hand a tiny cap whose snowy ostrich-plumes 
 swept the floor, would certainly have agreed 
 that the boy was well fitted to adorn the suite 
 of the idolized Princess Henrietta. 
 
 Armand seemed to feel thus himself, for he 
 answered the Marchioness's haughty glance 
 with another quite as haughty ; he also 
 seemed to be in no mood to impart to her 
 the information that he had rescued a portion 
 of her letters from Phoebe's sharp teeth. 
 
 To-morrow would be quite time enough to 
 afford her that pleasure ; he was then fully 
 occupied in waiting on his mistress, by hand- 
 ing her refreshments on massive silver waiters. 
 
 Fatigued by the oppressive ceremonies and 
 formalities which royalty was at that period 
 forced to endure at similar festivals, Henrietta 
 
THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 55 
 
 of Orleans soon withdrew into a small side- 
 room, of which the entrance was permitted 
 only to a favored few. She did not return 
 to the throne-hall until near the close of the 
 ball, and there she perceived that she had lost 
 or forgotten her fan in the little side-room. 
 A fan was at that day such an indispensable 
 article of a lady's wardrobe, that one almost 
 fancied it impossible to exist, if deprived of 
 that important accessory to grace and good 
 manners. 
 
 The active Armand was soon sent in search 
 of the missing fan, and a few moments after, 
 the boy entered the little cabinet. 
 
 It was empty, and in the very spot where 
 so many had so recently longed to be, neither 
 lady nor cavalier could now be seen. They 
 had all departed with the Princess. 
 
 Armand looked amid the downy cushions 
 of the divan, and on the carpet, but in vain ; 
 he could not find the fan, which, in accordance 
 with the then prevailing fashion, was much 
 too large to be easily concealed. 
 
 One place still remained unse arched ; this 
 was a deep window-recess, half hidden be- 
 
56 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 hind a mas? of heavy, dark curtains ; the 
 Princess had frequently retired for a few 
 moments into this sequestered spot, whence 
 the tumult and confusion of the glittering 
 throng seemed more distant and less op- 
 pressive. 
 
 Armand slipped behind the curtains, and a 
 moment after, his eyes fell upon a bunch of 
 marabout feathers with a chased gold handle ; 
 this was the missing fan, u.nd Armand joyfully 
 turned to leave this solitary place. 
 
 As he opened the curtains to return, he 
 suddenly perceived he was no longer alone. 
 The Marquis de Maine and his wife stood 
 immediately before the recess, but did not 
 seem to perceive him, and their countenances, 
 which were always exhibited to the multitude 
 so cold and stiff that no one could divine a 
 single thought or feeling, now exhibited un- 
 mistakable signs of strong excitement. 
 
 Armand suffered the curtain gently to fall 
 into its place, not knowing at the moment 
 what it was best for him to do. 
 
 " Madame," said the Marquis, in a low but 
 angry tone, u I always thought those letters 
 
THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 57 
 
 would bring misfortune upon us ; why have 
 you delayed so long in committing them to 
 the flames ? " 
 
 " I could not dream, my lord, that there 
 could be thieves in the palace, who would 
 rifle the secrets of my writing-desk ! " replied 
 the lady coldly. 
 
 " And yet you are usually very mistrustful, 
 Adele ; how came you upon this occasion to 
 neglect your usual precautions ? " 
 
 " The letters were securely placed in a 
 locked portfolio." 
 
 « And the desk?" 
 
 " It is possible that in my haste I neglected 
 to lock it ; you remember, Gaston, that you 
 sent for me to your chamber to discuss some 
 important affairs ; when I returned, I found 
 the desk open ; the portfolio was missing, but 
 there was no other sign of any one's having 
 made a forcible entrance into the room." 
 
 Armand was about to step forth and an- 
 nounce the fortunate rescue of the papers, 
 when he heard the Marchioness say, in a' 
 spiteful tone : " The portfolio also contained 
 those unfortunate letters which would have 
 
58 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 destroyed you long ago, had you not been 
 prudent enough to throw the blame upon 
 Saint Alme." 
 
 Armand scarcely breathed. The Marquis 
 strode up and down the room with rapid steps 
 and sparkling eyes. He felt that a terrible 
 storm was about to burst over his head, and 
 now that he was in danger, he could not think 
 of breaking with the only being in the world 
 bound to cling to him ; he consequently some- 
 what softened his tone as he said : " And have 
 you no suspicion, Adele ? Are there none of 
 your suite who might play you such a ras- 
 cally trick?" 
 
 " I have no reason to distrust any of my 
 servants; but my valet saw the little Clair- 
 ville, Madame's saucy page, leave my room." 
 
 " What are you dreaming of, Adele ; that 
 insignificant child ? " 
 
 " Insignificant, my lord ? I have already 
 told you, that, the first time tfce Princess and 
 I saw him, Blanche de Saint Alme was with 
 him. The children may very readily have 
 entered into some conspiracy, for Saint Alme 
 always mistrusted you." 
 
THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 59 
 
 The Marquis cried out hastily : " The boy- 
 must be arrested before he has any opportunity 
 of misusing the papers ! " 
 
 " But under what pretext ? " 
 
 " We must impute to him some trifling 
 negligence in his service, which I, as lord 
 high-steward, can very readily do ; during the 
 arrest, it will not be difficult, through force or 
 persuasion, to bring the boy to a confession. 
 Of course, no one must know of what we 
 accuse him." 
 
 The cunning Marchioness certainly had no 
 need of this closing admonition, and she re- 
 ceived it with a contemptuous smile. She 
 did not, however, oppose the plan of accusing 
 Armand, and thus parted the worthy pair to 
 return to their places in the throne-hall. 
 
 Armand still lingered a short time in his 
 hiding-place, to deliberate. To make a con- 
 fidante of the Princess was impossible, for 
 the ball was not yet ended, and she was sur- 
 rounded by a circle of the highest nobility. 
 But he was also convinced that before the end 
 of the evening he would be arrested, and that 
 during his arrest the Marquis would search 
 
60 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 his room. Finally his thoughts fell upon 
 Miss de Raimond, who had always testified 
 so deep a sympathy towards Blanche and her 
 family. 
 
 He left the window-recess, and, hasten- 
 ing out through a side-door, passed through 
 several corridors, and finally reached his own 
 room. He hid the letters carefully about him, 
 and returned to the throne-hall by the same 
 route. 
 
 He found Madame Henriette in earnest 
 conversation with Madame de Sevigne (a 
 gifted authoress), and his long absence oc- 
 casioned no remark, as the JPrincess silently 
 took her fan from his hand, now quivering 
 with the excitement of a joyful hope. 
 
 Armand soon found an opportunity of im- 
 parting to his friend Lucile all the weighty 
 occurrences of the last few hours. Lucile 
 was delighted at the idea of being instrumen- 
 tal in the vindication of poor Saint Alme's 
 reputation, and willingly took charge of the 
 important letters, which were much safer in 
 her hands than in those of Armand. 
 
 " Ha ! Blanche, now your father will be 
 
THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 61 
 
 entirely justified, and I, your friend, will be 
 the chief cause ! " 
 
 Supported by this powerful consolation, 
 Armand quietly awaited the lord high-stew- 
 ard's vain arrest. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " TIME UNVEILS TRUTH." 
 
 The ball finally came to an end, and Ar- 
 mand's previsions were correct, for he had 
 scarcely entered his room when he received 
 an order from the lord high-steward to proceed 
 at once to the guard-room, and there await 
 his future destination. 
 
 This was a very unusual mode of proceed- 
 ing, for the pages accused of some slight 
 fault in the performance of their duty were 
 always first subjected to confinement in their 
 own apartments, and only sent to the guard- 
 room when the fault was proved, and was of 
 sufficient importance to deserve actual punish- 
 ment. With a serene countenance and some 
 careless observation, Armand followed the 
 young officer who had been sent to lead him 
 
" TIME UNVEILS TRUTH." 
 
 63 
 
 to the guard-room ; and the young man, aston- 
 ished at the boy's self-possession, smiled as 
 he half-mechanically repeated the consolatory 
 sentences he was accustomed to make use 
 of on similar occasions. 
 
 As soon as Armand was out of sight, the 
 Marquis, under some frivolous pretext, caused 
 the page's door to be forced open. He entered 
 with his customary air of stiff grandeur; but 
 scarcely had the servants left him, when his 
 countenance assumed an entirely different ex- 
 pression. Rage and hate shot from the little 
 sunken eyes, as with impatient haste he pro- 
 ceeded to open Armand's writing-desk. 
 
 His search was of course in vain. Neither 
 note nor envelope, not even the most trifling 
 scrap of paper, justified his suspicions. But 
 the less cause he found to suspect the boy, 
 the more deeply he felt convinced that Ar- 
 mand was about to betray him. He did not 
 doubt that Saint- Alme had confided to the 
 page all the secrets of his fall, and his sus- 
 picions. If the letters had been stolen and 
 were to fall into Saint- Alme's hands, the 
 justification of the latter, and the ruin of the 
 
64 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 Marquis, would be inevitable, for they would 
 prove only too clearly that De Maine had 
 acted as a spy for England, and had be- 
 trayed the king's agreement with Holland. 
 
 The more hopeless the search became, the 
 more violently was the worthy nobleman's 
 wrath enkindled ; he even forgot his customary 
 prudence, and tossed about the books and 
 papers in so reckless a manner that all soon 
 fell into confusion, and the Marquis's stifF 
 fingers strove in vain to restore a little order, 
 and conceal the traces of his passionate search. 
 
 He looked through all the boy's clothes and 
 closets, but of course in vain. 
 
 Great drops of perspiration rolled down 
 from the Marquis's pale brow; fear and an- 
 guish seized upon him, and left him but one 
 last hope, — the boy must have concealed the 
 papers in the clothes which he then wore. 
 
 The lord high-steward at once betook him- 
 self to the guard-room. 
 
 He found the boy in a little side-chamber, 
 reading ; the good-natured officer on guard 
 had lent him a heart-rending, knightly ro- 
 mance, which had completely reconciled the 
 young page to his involuntary captivity. 
 
TIME UNVEILS TRUTH.'' 
 
 65 
 
 The night was quite cold ; Armand still 
 wore the light dress which he had donned 
 for the festival, and could not avoid shivering 
 to his fingers' ends as the cold chills ran down 
 beneath his lace cuffs. 
 
 He silently rose as the Marquis entered, and 
 quietly assented, as the latter said, with un- 
 usual condescension : — 
 
 " It is not my intention, Clairville, to expose 
 your tender constitution to the injurious in- 
 fluence of the cold, at least so far as it can be 
 avoided. Your servant stands without with 
 warmer clothes, and with his aid you can 
 make yourself much more comfortable than 
 you are at present." 
 
 Armand at once understood the noble lord's 
 guileful proposition, but silently retired, and 
 arrayed himself in the warmer clothing. 
 
 The servant was a creature of the lord high- 
 steward's, and in all things blindly subservient 
 to his will. He watched closely whether the 
 page would take a letter or a package from 
 the pockets of his court-dress, and as he did 
 not do so, he triumphantly placed the fine 
 costume in the Marquis's hands. 
 
 5 
 
66 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 In vain did the latter turn all the pockets 
 inside out, and loosen all the folds ; the deli- 
 cate laces were almost destroyed by the im- 
 patient handling of the angry man; — but the 
 desired papers were nowhere to be found. 
 
 As soon as Lucile de Raimond heard of 
 Armand's arrest, she hastened to her father, 
 and, giving him the letters, admitted him into 
 the secret. 
 
 The Count saw at once that he could now 
 prove the truth of a conviction which he had 
 long secretly entertained. Notwithstanding 
 the weight of evidence againt Saint- Alme, 
 Count Raimond had never believed him 
 guilty, for he had always known him to be 
 a faithful servant of King Louis. De Maine 
 had so skilfully woven the meshes of suspicion 
 round the King's mind, that in the first vio- 
 lence of his anger he would listen to no defence 
 of Saint- Alme, although the latter had once 
 stood very high in his favor. But now this 
 violence had somewhat abated ; and only a 
 few days before, he had spoken of Saint- Alme 
 to the Count with considerable interest. 
 
"time unveils truth." 
 
 67 
 
 Lucile's father soon decided upon his course 
 of conduct ; he hastened to the king, and im- 
 parted to him the important discovery, to 
 which Louis listened with the more interest, 
 that he had formerly been really attached to 
 Saint- Alme. 
 
 And thus, while the Marquis and his spouse 
 were employing all the powers of their treach- 
 erous natures to recover the letters, they were 
 already in the very hands in which they chiefly 
 feared to see them. 
 
 There could no longer be found any pretext 
 for detaining the page ; Henrietta of Orleans 
 had herself repeatedly asked for him, and he 
 could consequently be accused of no negli- 
 gence in her service. 
 
 He then found himself the next day restored 
 to his place at his mistress's side, and great 
 was his delight when Lucile joyfully whis- 
 pered in his ear the result of her efforts. 
 
 The Marquis inwardly despaired, but he 
 skilfully maintained his usual proud demeanor. 
 But his cold features assumed a really hideous 
 expression, when, on the third day after the 
 ball, he beheld Saint-Alme enter the king's 
 antechamber. 
 
68 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 De Maine gasped for breath, but after a few 
 moments, recovering his self-possession, he said 
 with icy politeness : " Sir, I can scarcely be- 
 lieve that you seek an audience of his Ma- 
 jesty?" 
 
 " Most assuredly I do ; it was for that pur- 
 pose I came hither, Lord Marquis." 
 
 " Your endeavor will be fruitless, M. dc 
 Saint-Alme!" 
 
 " The audience is nevertheless granted," 
 replied De Raimond, who at that moment 
 left the king's apartment, and beckoned Saint- 
 Ami e to follow him. 
 
 The Marquis stood as if stricken by a thun- 
 derbolt. 
 
 With the aid of the important letters, it was 
 of course very easy for Saint-Alme entirely to 
 justify himself, and he soon stood higher than 
 ever in King Louis's favor. 
 
 It was suggested to the Marquis and his 
 worthy spouse that they had better leave the 
 court as soon as possible, and enjoy in some 
 foreign land the pleasant consequences of con- 
 spiracies with England. 
 
 The noble pair never knew exactly to whom 
 
TIME UNVEILS TRUTH." 
 
 69 
 
 they owed their fall ; they divined that the 
 tell-tale letters must have come into the 
 King's possession, but the manner $f their 
 betrayal always remained a mystery to them. 
 At all events, they never suspected the guilty 
 Phoebe, for she accompanied her mistress to a 
 foreign country, where both soon after died. 
 
 The Marquis also closed his renowned 
 career in Italy 
 
 The meeting with Blanche was a moment 
 of rapture to both children, and, now that they 
 were so frequently together, they often thought 
 with fond remembrance of the lovely valley 
 near Clairville Hall. 
 
 Years passed; old Count Roger de Clair- 
 ville died, and we may presume that his 
 melancholy longing was finally satisfied by 
 an eternal reunion with his truly loved King 
 Henry. 
 
 The Count left considerable property, and 
 all, including Clairville Hall, was inherited by 
 his only living relative, Armand Clairville. 
 
 Our handsome page lived now no longer in 
 
70 
 
 THE PAGE. 
 
 the immediate service of Henrietta of Orleans ; 
 he had entered a royal regiment, and the bril- 
 liant dreams with which he had entertained 
 his little friend were so far fulfilled, that her 
 colors, which he always wore, had been victori- 
 ous in many a gay tournament. As a man, 
 he fulfilled all the promise of the boy, and was 
 ever brave, good, and handsome ; he also con- 
 tinued to be an especial favorite of Henrietta's. 
 
 Lucile de Raimond had married long before, 
 and Blanche now held her place as maid of 
 honor. 
 
 After a time, Blanche became Armand' s 
 wife ; and although they lived chiefly at the 
 court, yet they passed a portion of every year 
 at Clairville Hall, and changed it from a soli- 
 tary wilderness into a beautiful and blooming 
 summer residence. 
 
 M. and Madame de Saint-Alme also fre- 
 quently visited their modest little cottage in 
 the smiling valley of Clairville Hall. 
 
THE MOUNTAIN-ELPS GIFT. 
 
 A LEGEND. 
 
TONY . 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 tony's friend. 
 
 Evening was fast approaching ; the village 
 bells were summoning all to prayer, and the 
 country people were returning from the fields 
 to enjoy their well-earned repose. 
 
 On the main road was seen a solitary boy 
 of about twelve years old ; over his shoulder 
 hung a wallet, which, judging from its slight 
 proportions, certainly contained very little. 
 The boy strode nimbly on, sang a merry 
 ballad, and between the verses yodelled like 
 an Alpine hunter, with his fresh, clear voice. 
 
 " Forward ! forward, my friend ! " said he en- 
 couragingly to himself; "yonder lie the mines 
 where your godfather is overseer, and in one 
 little half-hour you will be there. Huzza! 
 huzza ! you will soon be there ! " 
 
74 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 It grew gradually darker and darker, and 
 although near objects might still be clearly 
 distinguished, yet the more distant faded into 
 a strange and confused dimness of outline. 
 The hill containing the mine, especially, looked 
 like a great black colossus rising to heaven, 
 and although Tony — such was the boy's 
 name — thought himself every moment about 
 to reach the spot, it always retreated before 
 him, farther and farther into the dim distance. 
 
 " H-m, that is strange," thought Tony; "there 
 is the house, with its glass windows on which 
 the setting sun was shining but a few mo- 
 ments since, and which certainly belongs to 
 my godfather; I have seen it plainly for the 
 last half-hour, and now it stands there like a 
 cloud, so gray and distant ; well, well, that may 
 be the effect of the closing shades of night." 
 
 The boy was still walking rapidly onward, 
 when he suddenly heard a clear voice behind 
 him cry out : " Hola, my lad ! whither away 
 so fast?" 
 
 Tony turned, and saw in the twilight the 
 tall, spare figure of a miner; his dark blouse 
 with its red lacings, and the miner's cap on his 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 75 
 
 head, clearly announced his profession, and he 
 also carried in his hand a spade of such glitter- 
 ing metal that its form was still perfectly dis- 
 tinguishable. 
 
 Tony politely lifted his cap and replied: 
 " I would like before night to reach the valley 
 of Laubbrunn ; my godfather, the Overseer of 
 of the mines, lives there, and he expects me 
 to-day." 
 
 " Indeed," replied the stranger, in a drawl- 
 ing tone, " and are you already acquainted 
 with your godfather?" 
 
 " O no ! " answered the boy ; " I come from 
 a great distance ; my home is at least forty 
 miles from here. It is now two years since 
 I became an orphan; and when my good 
 mother died, she little thought how her poor 
 Tony would be tormented. My uncle, the 
 
 rich landlord of 4 The Star,' in L , took 
 
 me after my mother died to his own house. 
 But he did not love me at all ; he would not 
 send me to school, and scolded me all day 
 long, because I was poor and could not earn 
 enough to satisfy him. I often visited my 
 mother's grave, where I wept bitterly, and 
 
76 the mountain-elf's gift. 
 
 longed to go far, far away from my cross 
 uncle. I frequently thought of my rich god- 
 father in the valley of Laubbrunn, and one 
 evening, when I was thinking of writing him 
 a letter, and of telling him all my miseries, a 
 handsome little miner stepped up to me, — I 
 was in the graveyard, — and gave me a note, 
 saying, ' This was sent you by Mr. Steele, 
 the Overseer at Laubbrunn.' My hand trem- 
 bled, for no one had ever written to me before, 
 but I quickly broke the seal and read : — 
 
 " ' Silly boy, why have you never written to 
 me how unhappy you are ? Have you no 
 confidence in your old godfather ? Tie up 
 your wallet, bid your uncle of " The Star " 
 farewell, and come to Laubbrunn, where you 
 will find a second father in old Steele, 
 
 Your Godfather.' 
 
 " Now, I never could understand," contin- 
 ued Tony, confidentially, " how my godfather 
 learned my misfortunes, for I had never writ- 
 ten to him. But no matter for that ! I 
 turned round to take leave of the neat little 
 miner, but he was nowhere to be seen. I told 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 77 
 
 my uncle that my godfather had sent for me 
 to come to Laubbrunn. He seemed quite re- 
 joiced, and said to me, ' Go, by all means, my 
 boy ; here is a half-dollar for travelling money. 
 Farewell. I wish you all success ! ' 
 
 " It is now three days since I left L ; 
 
 the half-dollar was soon spent, and I have been 
 very hungry ! But never mind that : yonder 
 is Laubbrunn, where my kind godfather lives." 
 
 When Tony had thus ended his account of 
 himself, the strange miner laughed gayly, and 
 said : " Yes, yonder is Laubbrunn ; do you 
 know your godfather's house ? " 
 
 " No," replied the boy ; " could you show 
 me the way ? " 
 
 " I ? " said the stranger with surprise ; " no, 
 I am not acquainted with the Overseer." 
 
 The boy looked astonished, and asked, " Do 
 you not then belong to the mine ? " 
 
 " No — yes — that is, not exactly — " 
 
 " I do not understand you," said the boy, 
 shaking his head. 
 
 " No ? well,, there is no need you should ! 
 Enough, I cannot now accompany you, but I 
 will tell you how you must go. Keep always 
 
78 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 to the right of the white wall, and take care 
 lest you should meet some goblin — " 
 
 " O what silly stuff! " laughed the boy. 
 
 " Do you not then believe in the mountain 
 elves ? " asked the stranger. 
 
 " I believe ? No indeed ! " 
 
 " And are you not afraid of them ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " But they are bad fellows, boy." 
 
 " Nonsense ! they will do me no harm ! 99 
 said Tony. " If there should really be such 
 beings as elves, and they should be wicked, I 
 am sure God will not let them do me any 
 harm ; and if they are good, they will probably 
 send me gold and treasures from their dark 
 caves, and that would be delightful." 
 
 " You are a foolish fellow, little boy, and I 
 have only to repeat, Take care of yourself! 
 See, here is the end of the white wall, and 
 now I must go. Turn to the left until you 
 come to a deep well with a stone railing 
 round it ; but do not go too near, for the well 
 is haunted. At the right of the well stands 
 a little white house, with a linden-tree before 
 the door ; there dwells Steele, the Overseer ; 
 good night, my boy ! " 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 79 
 
 " Good night, and ^any thanks, dear sir," 
 replied Tony, offering msvhand to the stranger ; 
 but the latter must have turned the corner in 
 the road very rapidly, for he was nowhere to 
 be seen. 
 
 The boy walked on, and soon stood before 
 the strange well. 
 
 It was now quite late, the moon shone down 
 from heaven and flooded the road, the well, 
 the house, and the linden, with its pure white 
 light, so that Tony could plainly distinguish 
 all the surrounding objects. He went straight 
 to the well, and looked down into its depths ; 
 but he saw nothing save the dark water lying 
 at a great depth, and glittering in the moon- 
 light as if it were some supernatural flame, 
 emitting silver sparks. The rim of the well 
 consisted of a broad wall of gray stone, shaped 
 almost like a basin ; a wooden bucket attached 
 to a long chain hung down into the well, but 
 nothing unusual or peculiar was anywhere to 
 be seen. 
 
 Tony passed on and knocked at the entrance 
 of the little house ; but as no one said, Come 
 in, he softly entered the hall door. 
 
80 the mountain-elf's gift, 
 
 All was dark and still ; his heart beat quick 
 with joy, at the thought that he was so soon to 
 greet a godfather, who would surely give him 
 a hearty welcome. 
 
 A ray of light glimmered through a crack in 
 a side door ; he went nearer and tapped lightly. 
 
 " Come in ! " cried a loud voice. 
 
 Tony modestly entered. 
 
 He found himself in a small apartment ; on 
 the sofa lay a man of about forty years old, 
 with strong features and gloomy, black eyes ; 
 on the floor beside him sat two immense dogs, 
 which flew upon the boy with a tremendous 
 noise, and would have torn him to pieces had 
 the man not called them off. Beside the sofa 
 sat a pretty young woman, with a little girl of 
 about five years old in her lap. 
 
 Tony lifted his cap and said, " I came to see 
 Mr. Steele, the Overseer." 
 
 " I am he, lad ; what do you want ? " asked 
 the man. 
 
 The boy shrank back affrighted, but, finally 
 recovering himself, continued : " Oh ! are you 
 then the dear godfather who has been so long 
 expecting me ? " 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 81 
 
 " I am expecting no one." 
 Tony looked abashed and astonished, but 
 finally stammered : " But the letter — " 
 « What letter ? " 
 
 The boy placed the paper in his hands. 
 
 The Overseer laid an immense pair of spec- 
 tacles across his nose, unfolded the letter, read 
 it, and then said shortly : " I never wrote it." 
 
 " O, then you are not the Overseer ? " 
 
 " Don't chatter such nonsense, boy ! I cer- 
 tainly am Steele, the Overseer at Laubbrunn ; 
 but I never wrote this trash ; some one else has 
 used my name, and played a joke upon you. 
 Who are you, then ? " 
 
 " My name is Tony Petersen, and I lost 
 both father and mother about two years ago." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that ; I knew your par- 
 ents well, and was godfather to one of their 
 little boys." 
 
 " Ah, dear sir, I am that very little boy ! " 
 cried the excited child, advancing towards the 
 Overseer, with the intention of embracing 
 him. 
 
 " Enough, leave your nonsense ! " cried the 
 latter, harshly ; " what do you want with me ? " 
 
 6 
 
82 
 
 the mountain-elf's gift. 
 
 " Ah, my good godfather, I was so forsaken 
 in the world ! and once, as I was weeping very 
 bitterly at my mother's grave, a little miner 
 suddenly stood before me and brought me 
 your letter — " 
 
 " Silly stuff! I tell you, boy, I never wrote 
 that letter," thundered out the Overseer. 
 
 " Well, — well, — the letter which I thought 
 my good godfather had written," stammered 
 Tony ; " and because I was so lonely and for- 
 saken, I tied up my wallet and came here, for 
 I surely thought you had invited me." 
 
 " No, indeed ! I never dreamed of such a 
 thing. I have no room for strange children ! 
 Some wag has played this trick upon you to 
 give you a long journey for nothing ; you may 
 stay here to-night and rest, but to-morrow you 
 must go back to your uncle ; you cannot re- 
 main with me ! " 
 
 So saying, the hard-hearted man left the 
 room. 
 
 Hot tears rolled down over Tony's cheeks ; 
 during three whole days had he walked, heed- , 
 ing neiiher hunger nor thirst, and scarcely feel- 
 ing fatigue, because his body and mind were 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 83 
 
 both supported by the hope of finding a sec- 
 ond parent in his godfather ! And now, the 
 letter was not really from the Overseer ; and 
 further, although Mr. Steele was his godfather, 
 he was not the less a cruel man, who had of- 
 fered him shelter for a single night only, after 
 his long and wearisome journey, during which 
 he had not once tasted warm food, and which 
 had cost him his only pair of shoes, to say 
 nothing of his bleeding feet. What should 
 he do now ? 
 
 Suddenly he felt the touch of a light hand 
 upon his shoulder ; he looked up, and saw the 
 pretty, pale woman, who gently said to him : 
 " Do not weep, my boy ; my husband means 
 no harm, and I am sure, if you will gently per- 
 suade him, he will do something for you, for I 
 have often heard him speak of his little god- 
 son, and when he finds that you have told the 
 truth — " 
 
 The boy blushed crimson, and said sensi- 
 tively : " O ma'am, I am no liar ! " 
 
 " I did not say you were, my child," replied 
 the woman ; " but you must see that this let- 
 ter is a very strange affair, for, believe me, my 
 
84 the mountain-elf's gift. 
 
 husband never wrote it, and so many years 
 have passed since he last saw you, that of 
 course he could not recognize you." 
 
 Tony saw that the good woman was right, 
 and that if the Overseer had not really written 
 the letter, — a point which he entirely failed 
 to comprehend, — he had reason sufficient to 
 mistrust him. 
 
 " Come, dry your eyes, and sit on my chair, 
 beside the little girl ; I will make you some 
 warm broth, for you look tired and hungry. 
 And then I will talk with my husband, who, 
 for all he seems so harsh and gloomy, has a 
 good heart." 
 
 So saying, the woman left the room ; the 
 boy still stood, sad and despairing, in the mid- 
 dle of the apartment, when he suddenly felt 
 his arm encircled by two little soft hands, and 
 heard a pleasant, childish voice say, coaxing- 
 ly : " Won't you come and build houses with 
 little Maggie, out of the blue stones that Ru- 
 pert brought ? " 
 
 " Are you Maggie ? " asked Tony, bending 
 down to the child. 
 
 " Yes, big man, I am little Maggie, and you 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 85 
 
 are much gentler than Rupert, and so you 
 must play with me. I will sing you all the 
 little songs that Rose taught me, and will give 
 you my supper, if you will only play with little 
 Maggie." 
 
 " And so I will ; but where then ? " 
 
 The child hastily drew out the sofa, pushed 
 the boy behind it, and then, arranging a table 
 so that it filled up the open space, the pair 
 found themselves in a nice little house. Mag- 
 gie upset a tiny willow basket upon the ta- 
 ble, and all her playthings rolled out, — little 
 wooden trees and houses, colored stones from 
 the mine, tiny paper figures, wooden dolls, 
 and a multitude of similar articles. The child 
 screamed with delight, and, filling her little 
 hand with the brilliant stones, gave them to 
 the boy, saying : " Maggie will give you all 
 these." 
 
 " Where did you get them, my sweet child ? " 
 
 " A pretty little girl with golden curls gave 
 them to me down by the well." 
 
 " But then you ought not to give them 
 away." 
 
 The child became quite thoughtful, laid her 
 
86 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 finger very seriously on one side of her little 
 nose, and put all the blue stones together in a 
 bag, which she replaced in the basket. This 
 done, she said, gayly : " Now we will play 
 'Good luck'!" 
 
 " But that is a game I do not know, Mag- 
 gie." 
 
 The child sighed with comic earnestness : 
 " Ah ! you must be very stupid, big man ; take 
 this little hammer and knock on the table, then 
 you will be a miner, and I will be papa, — so ! 
 Now light the little lantern and go under the 
 table, we will play that is the mine. Now — 
 are you in ? Yes ? Well, then sing with me : 
 
 " Good luck ! Good luck ! 
 The mine is before us, 
 We enter it bold and free ; 
 Then chant we our choras, 
 For God watches o'er us, 
 And never alone are we ! 
 Good luck ! " 
 
 The child repeated the song which she daily 
 heard sung by the miners, like a little parrot, 
 and her clear voice rang out through the room 
 like a silver bell. Tony crouched under the 
 table, and sang as well as he could after her. 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 87 
 
 Maggie laughed heartily, for the boy's singing 
 was in truth far from charming. 
 
 Tony finally asked, " May I not come out, 
 Maggie ? My back hurts me ; the table is not 
 high enough to sit under." 
 
 The child joyfully clapped her hands and 
 sprang down to him. " So, — now I am the 
 miner, and you are papa ; get up on the sofa, 
 and I will sing." 
 
 With inexhaustible patience the simple game 
 was ever renewed ; the child grew livelier and 
 livelier, and trilled out a whole budget of songs, 
 which Tony repeated after her. 
 
 The boy forgot all his sorrow while playing 
 with the dear little girl ; he laughed, jested, and 
 sang with her, until she finally asked : " Will 
 you always stay with little Maggie ? " 
 
 Tony remembered his forlorn condition, and 
 replied in a low and desponding tone : " I 
 would willingly do so, but my godfather does 
 not wish it." 
 
 " But that is very naughty in your god- 
 father." 
 
 " O do not say so : he is your father." 
 Maggie opened her eyes, but understood not 
 a word. 
 
88 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 At that moment the mother entered, bring- 
 ing a bowlful of smoking broth ; Rose, the 
 young servant-maid, followed, with a dish of 
 peeled potatoes, fresh wheat-bread, and good 
 butter. O, how our poor hungry Tony en- 
 joyed the savory steam! 
 
 " Come, boy, help me on with the table- 
 cloth, bring the pewter plates, and take care of 
 the lamp ! " cried Mrs. Steele. " That is well, 
 you are very skilful," continued she, encour- 
 agingly, as Tony arranged all to her satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 The trio took their places and enjoyed their 
 suppers, while the Overseer smoked his pipe 
 and drank his wine at the tavern. Mistress 
 Mary Steele was a careful housewife, gentle 
 and industrious, but rarely could she succeed 
 in pleasing the Overseer, he was so cross and 
 tyrannical ; indeed, he led his poor wife a very 
 miserable life. 
 
 The little girl prattled gayly on during the 
 whole of supper time. Soon, however, she 
 became more quiet, began to rub her eyes, 
 which she tried in vain to keep open, and 
 finally fell asleep, burying her pretty, curly 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 89 
 
 head, like a little dove, in the cushions of the 
 sofa. 
 
 When Tony had entirely satisfied Iiis hun- 
 ger, Mistress Mary took a lighted candle, and 
 said to him : " Come, I will show you your 
 room." 
 
 Tony followed her up a little, well-scoured 
 pair of stairs to a pretty room, in which stood 
 a white covered bed, most invitingly offering 
 repose to the boy's weary limbs. 
 
 " And now, my boy, you must sleep quietly 
 here until morning. I will meanwhile speak 
 with my husband, and he will perhaps give 
 you permission to remain longer. Do not set 
 your light too near your bed, lest the coverlet 
 should take fire ; and if you hear a noise in the 
 night do not be alarmed ; the water in the 
 well often rises to a great height, and as it 
 communicates with the water in the mine, the 
 two combined make a great rushing and com- 
 motion. But do not fear, there is not the 
 least danger ; good night, my child, and sleep 
 well ! " 
 
 So saying, good Mrs. Steele left the room. 
 Tony was now alone ; the various occur- 
 
90 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 rences of the last few days floated confusedly 
 through his brain. He had a refuge for the 
 night, but he could not avoid thinking of the 
 morrow. And then, who could have played 
 him that wicked trick about the letter ? 
 
 " Ah ! n he sighed, " if I had remained with 
 my uncle, I should at least have had food and 
 shelter, and now he will surely not receive me 
 if my godfather sends me away. If I only 
 knew the name of the kind miner whom I met 
 to-day, he might perhaps shelter me until I 
 could find some employment." 
 
 Tony sadly stepped to the window ; the 
 moon was shining brightly, and the water in 
 the well glittered like silver. An irrepressible 
 sense of weariness finally overcame the boy, 
 and, quickly undressing himself, he crept into 
 the soft feather-bed. 
 
 Ere he slept, he prayed earnestly and trust- 
 ingly to God, as indeed good children never 
 forget to do ; for if they are sad and troubled, 
 prayer will render them more peaceful ; and if 
 they feel happy and joyous, it is but reasona- 
 ble that they should thank God for having 
 made them so. 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 91 
 
 When Tony had finished his prayer, he felt 
 much more cheerful and contented, and soon 
 closed his weary eyes in a sweet sleep. 
 
 After a time he thought he heard a great 
 noise as of rushing waters ; still half asleep, he 
 opened his eyes and saw 'the white foam 
 glittering among the dark branches of the 
 linden. It rose higher and higher, and finally 
 came with such violence against the window- 
 panes that they were broken, and the foam- 
 ing stream poured through the room. And 
 as the white waves flowed in, one after an- 
 other, they divided, and were changed into 
 shining crystals and bars of silver lying in 
 rows upon the floor. Suddenly, the room 
 swarmed with little figures in long beards and 
 miners' blouses, with spades over their shoul- 
 ders, and tiny dark-lanterns in their hands. 
 They walked solemnly two and two to the 
 boy's bedside, and softly sang the following 
 words : — 
 
 " In the mine dark and deep, 
 
 Bright treasures we keep, 
 And watch them with unceasing care ! 
 
 Of crystals the whitest, 
 
 Of metals the brightest, 
 
92 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 Down in the deep, 
 How they peacefully sleep, 
 Those treasures of earth, rich and rare ! 
 
 " Whom the spirits would serve, 
 They lead him below ; 
 As he may deserve, 
 
 Their gifts they bestow. 
 Through the darkness of night 
 
 We '11 lead him below, 
 And dazzle his sight 
 
 With the glorious show 
 Of the treasures we keep 
 In the mine dark and deep, 
 Of the treasures of earth, rich and rare ! 
 
 Good luck ! " * 
 
 When the song was ended, the strange little 
 elves began to hammer and knock against the 
 crystals and silver bars until the pieces flew 
 high in the air, and fell upon the bewildered 
 boy's little couch. Tony's forehead was cov- 
 ered with a cold sweat, and yet all looked 
 gray and indistinct, as if it were indeed only 
 a dream. 
 
 Four little elves stood near his bed, and 
 struck their silver hammers upon a bar of 
 metal seemingly as hard as iron. It finally 
 began to yield ; at first, only small fragments 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 93 
 
 flew off, but at length it divided in the middle, 
 and a brilliant light issued from the cleft as if 
 a crimson tulip had suddenly unfolded its 
 leaves. From the centre of the silver bar 
 stepped forth a little elf with a shining crown 
 upon his . head ; but no one could tell whether 
 the crown were made of gold, or whether it 
 were composed of living, leaping flames. 
 
 The little elf-king approached the boy's bed, 
 and the latter immediately recognized the 
 pretty little miner who had given him the 
 letter in the graveyard. And as Tony was 
 dcnbtfully gazing upon the elf, his form sud- 
 denly attained the full height of a grown man, 
 and the boy at once recognized the pale, hand- 
 some miner who had on that very day pointed 
 out to him the Overseer's house. 
 
 " Do you know me, then, my boy ? " asked 
 the miner. 
 
 " Certainly, O certainly ! It was you who 
 were so kind to me, and I had already thought 
 of coming to you to beg work and bread." 
 
 " I heard your wish, although yon did not 
 speak it aloud, but I could not grant it be- 
 cause I am far removed from the sphere of 
 
94 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 humanity, and only occasionally seen by men. 
 Your desolate condition has excited my com- 
 passion, for children bereft of their parents are 
 much more exposed to all the dangers and 
 temptations of life than those who have a 
 father and mother to watch over them. I 
 will take care of you so long as you deserve 
 it, so long as you continue to be good and 
 pious, and carefully follow all your mother's 
 instructions. Even when you do not see me, 
 you must not despair of my aid, for I will be 
 so near you that I can divine all your most 
 secret thoughts and wishes ; therefore beware 
 lest you become naughty, and forget your 
 God, for with my favor you lose all your 
 good fortune. Be patient when you are 
 harshly treated, forgiving when you are in- 
 jured, and strong when temptation would lure 
 you from the right path ! You human beings 
 all have an inner voice, which tells you when 
 you do well, and warns you when you go 
 astray. That voice is true and faithful, and 
 you must ever heed it. 
 
 " But I will also give you a visible guide, 
 which will warn and protect you ; but do 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 95 
 
 not weary my patience, nor that of the mes- 
 senger which I will send you from my realms 
 in the depths of the earth. Should you scorn 
 his warnings, and persevere in any evil from 
 which he would strive to deter you, you lose 
 my aid for ever. Farewell ! ere the moon has 
 twice risen, my messenger will be with you ; 
 you will know him at once, and you must 
 place full confidence in his counsels. 
 
 So saying, the elf bowed and laid his hands 
 upon the boy's eyes, which immediately closed 
 in a sweet and refreshing slumber. 
 
 When Tony awoke, the morning sun was 
 shining brightly into his chamber, which was 
 now quite empty and quiet. lie rose and 
 looked timidly round him, but saw nothing 
 to occasion him the least uneasiness. lie 
 thought he must have been dreaming ; but 
 no ! every word spoken by the elf still re- 
 sounded in his ears. Surely, surely his kind 
 protector must have sent him the letter, that 
 he might come where he could himself guide 
 and watch over him. 
 
 " O what kind of a messenger will he send 
 me ? " cried he aloud. 
 
98 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 Of course he received no answer. 
 
 At the same moment he heard the Over- 
 seer's harsh voice resounding below. 
 
 He quickly dressed himself, and went down 
 into the sitting-room to await his future desti- 
 nation ; his heart beat anxiously, but he boldly 
 entered the room in which the Overseer with 
 his wife and child sat at breakfast. 
 
 " Good morning, dear godfather ! good morn- 
 ing, Mrs. Steele! God bless you, Maggie!" 
 said Tony, modestly. 
 
 The Overseer muttered something behind 
 his beard, which no one understood ; Mary 
 kindly responded to his salutation and pointed 
 him to a chair ; while Maggie sprang upon his 
 knee. 
 
 He then silently drank his coffee. 
 
 Finally the Overseer began : " Did you 
 
 come on foot from L ?" 
 
 " Yes, godfather." 
 
 " And have you left your uncle ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; he gave me permission to go." 
 
 " And why ? " 
 
 " Because he thought from the letter, that 
 you had kindly invited me." 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 97 
 
 * " Silly stuff with your letter ! You were a 
 fool to come here where no one wants you." 
 
 The blood flushed crimson in the boy's 
 cheeks ; he was naturally hasty and very sensi- 
 tive ; but Mistress Mary's eyes so kindly im- 
 plored him to be patient, thM he at once re- 
 membered the elf s advice, and quietly replied : 
 " Alas ! there surely must have been some 
 mistake concerning the letter ; but since I have 
 come so far, my good godfather will perhaps 
 be kind enough to tell me where I will find 
 work and bread." 
 
 " Indeed! Work and bread? That sounds 
 very reasonable ! But with such bragging Tel- 
 lows the words are generally the best part, 
 and nothing of any consequence lies behind 
 them. What, then, have you learned ? " 
 
 " Reading, writing, and arithmetic, the cate- 
 chism, and singing." 
 
 " We have no call for such learning in 
 Laubbrunn, and your wisdom will not be 
 of the least use to me ; but would you like 
 to be a miner ? " 
 
 " O yes indeed! most gladly, dear, good 
 godfather ! " cried Tony, joyfully. 
 
98 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 " Well, well, you need not be so hasty ; we 
 are not quite so far yet. Fair and softly ! — if 
 one gives you a finger, you take the whole 
 hand. Go out now, and feed the dogs." 
 
 Tony willingly rose, and strove to win the 
 favor of the powerful pair of animals, which 
 however only set their teeth, and growled 
 fiercely upon him. They utterly refused to 
 follow him, and growled most menacingly. 
 
 " Call them by their names, — Castor and 
 Pollux ! " said Mary. 
 
 The boy did as he was bidden, but the 
 creatures still refused to follow; they rushed 
 wildly about the room, and made such a terri- 
 ble noise that the Overseer himself seized them 
 by the ears, . and, muttering a hasty curse, 
 turned them out of doors. 
 
 "You are very expert, my lad!" said he, 
 scornfully. 
 
 " Pardon me, the dogs must know me be- 
 fore they will obey me." 
 
 " Nonsense ! the dogs are very sensible, and 
 when they once find out what a chicken- 
 hearted fellow you are, they will never fol- 
 low you." 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 99 
 
 Again did the blood rush to the boy's cheeks ; 
 but fortunately the Overseer immediately con- 
 tinued : " Get ready, then, and come with me 
 to the mine, where you may learn your busi- 
 ness ; but quick, I cannot wait ! " 
 
 It was a charming summer day ; around the 
 mysterious spring stood a group of laughing 
 and chattering young girls, washing greens, 
 and filling their buckets with the clear water. 
 
 The Overseer walked on in silence, and so 
 rapidly, that Tony was forced to run to keep 
 pace with him. 
 
 The mine was soon reached, and our good 
 Tony trembled a little as he looked down into 
 the gloomy shaft which lay before him, like a 
 deep, black grave. 
 
 At the entrance of the mine stood a number 
 of miners, engaged in drawing up immense 
 chests and barrels attached to huge ropes. 
 Their cheerful voices could be heard from a 
 great distance ; but as soon as they saw the 
 gloomy Overseer coming, they became silent, 
 lifted their caps from then* heads, and made 
 their usual salutation : " Good luck ! " 
 
 The Overseer made no reply, but examined 
 
100 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 the works, and seemed to take real delight in 
 finding all the fault possible, in the loudest 
 and most disagreeable tone of voice. 
 
 " Where is Rupert ? " asked he. 
 
 An old miner stepped forth, the same kind 
 old man who had so often brought Maggie 
 pretty stones from the mine; he asked the 
 Overseer for his commands. 
 
 " You must teach this young lad, Rupert. 
 Take 1 him down into the shaft, give him a min- 
 ing suit, and show him what he has to do. 
 He is a very saucy fellow, so that you must 
 hold him tight, and especially must you ad- 
 minister plenty of wholesome correction." 
 
 So saying, the Overseer departed. 
 
 " Well, my lad, were you ever a miner ? " 
 asked the old man. 
 
 " No, dear sir ! " 
 
 " Were you never down a shaft ? " 
 « Never ! " 
 
 " By all the elements ! you must take cour- 
 age, then, for I tell you it is not very charming 
 down below there ; you will see neither sun 
 nor moon, only gray stones, with here and 
 there a silver vein, which must be hammered 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 101 
 
 out. There, put on the blouse and the cap ; I 
 will hold your light for you until we reach the 
 bottom. Now, — are you ready ? " 
 
 Tony assented ; Rupert led him to the mine 
 and told him to descend the rungs of the lad- 
 der which he saw before him. " Take good 
 care ! I will go before ; when we have gone 
 down twelve steps, the ladder ends, and we 
 must get into a large box, suspended by ropes, 
 ■ while the miners above will wind us down un- 
 til we again reach solid ground." 
 
 And so it was. The daylight soon vanished. 
 Tony's heart beat loudly, but with Rupert's 
 assistance he courageously stepped into the 
 swinging box which hung at the foot of the 
 ladder. They had scarcely entered when the 
 ropes began to move, and the box slowly sunk 
 into the dark chasm. 
 
 " Does your heart beat, my lad ? " asked 
 Rupert, laughing ; " well, have patience, we 
 will soon be down ! " 
 
 As soon as the airy equipage touched the 
 bottom of the mine, the pair left it. Tony 
 looked round curiously, but it was some time 
 before he could distinguish anything through 
 
102 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 the darkness. His eyes finally became accus- 
 tomed to the want of light, and he found him- 
 self amid a mass of rocks piled up in fantastic 
 hillocks of various sizes, between which the 
 miners wandered like dark shadows, each 
 bearing a small lantern, or stood, and with 
 great exertions hammered or dug out the sil- 
 ver, which was here plentifully distributed in 
 small veins through the gray rock. 
 
 The old man placed himself before a block 
 of stone, and bade the boy follow his example. 
 He then began to strike upon the stone, and 
 Tony did likewise. The latter was at first 
 very unskilful ; the spade and hammer were 
 heavy and unwieldy, and the boy's arm was 
 soon so tired with the unusual labor, that he 
 could scarcely lift it. 
 
 Rupert was good-natured, but rough ; he 
 often blustered very noisily, called the boy 
 awkward and spoiled, and told him over and 
 over again, that it needed something^ more 
 than a handsome face and delicate hands to 
 make a good miner. 
 
 " Only have patience with me, I will soon 
 do better," said Tony, gently. 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 103 
 
 " I believe so, my lad ; but apropos, how 
 did the Overseer come to take you ? It was 
 contrary to his usual fashion, I can tell you ! " 
 
 " O, he has been very kind to me, because 
 he is my godfather." 
 
 " Aha ! " 
 
 This was the only outward expression which 
 Rupert permitted to his thoughts. He could 
 not but wonder at the conduct of the Over- 
 seer, whom he had never before known to com- 
 mit a generous action. 
 
 After a long pause he continued : " If you 
 never were in a mine before, you cannot 
 be aware of all the dangers surrounding 
 us. No ? You know nothing of them ? 
 You see, my lad, you ought to have con- 
 sidered all that before you came among us ! 
 And I tell you, now, that we miners have 
 especial need to recommend our souls every 
 morning to the protection of Heaven, for we 
 know not when we enter the mine whether 
 we will ever see the daylight again or not. 
 The whole hill is filled with hidden water- 
 courses, which sometimes burst their granite 
 bonds and fill a large portion of the shaft with 
 
104 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 water. The danger is then very great, and if 
 God did not graciously watch over our safety, 
 we could not endure the constant anxiety. 
 The deeper we are in the mine, the greater is 
 the danger, and therefore they who work be- 
 low must be especially careful. They know 
 well all the tokens of approaching peril, and 
 sound the alarm-bells ; so that if you should 
 hear a monotonous ' Bim, bim,' sounding from 
 below, you must hasten to a ladder and go up 
 as fast as you can. If you do so in time, you 
 may escape the danger ; I tell you this that 
 you may be upon your guard, for I feel really 
 sorry to think how ignorantly you have en- 
 tered upon the laborious calling of a miner." 
 
 Tony listened attentively ; but he was a bold 
 boy, and the danger did not seem to him so 
 very great, after all. 
 
 At the end of a half-hour, Rupert slipped 
 softly away, probably to try the boy's courage, 
 and see if he would not be afraid in such a 
 solitary place ; for it was so dark in the mine, 
 that he could only recognize the distant work- 
 men by their lights, which wandered like shin- 
 ing spirits through the gloom whenever the 
 miners changed their places. 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 105 
 
 Tony scarcely observed that he was alone ; 
 he struck his hammer with all his little might 
 upon the stone, and suddenly, to his great de- 
 light, saw a gleaming silver vein shining like 
 a bright ribbon through the rock. " Ah, that 
 is silver ! " cried he, joyfully. " Rupert, dear 
 Rupert, look what a treasure I have found ! " 
 
 But Rupert was not there. 
 
 The boy looked round in astonishment, and 
 when he found himself alone, began to pound 
 the stone with as much force as if he had been 
 an experienced miner. The rock suddenly di- 
 vided, the silver vein slowly lengthened, dis- 
 playing the most brilliant colors, and trickled 
 like a murmuring brook, on which a bright sun 
 is shining, forth from the rock. Now it seemed 
 blue, now red, and again glittering with all the 
 colors of the rainbow ; it appeared by turns as 
 flowing water and as solid metal. Through the 
 rustling and murmuring the boy fancied he 
 could distinguish voices, and even singing; and 
 his breath almost stopped when he finally dis- 
 tinctly heard words which he was sure he had 
 heard before in a dream : — 
 
106 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 " In the mine dark and deep, 
 
 Bright treasures we keep, 
 And guard them with unceasing care ! 
 Of crystals the whitest, 
 Of metals the brightest, 
 Down in the deep, 
 How they peacefully sleep, 
 Those treasures of earth, rieh and rare ! 
 
 " Whom the spirits would serve, 
 They lead him below ; 
 As he may deserve, 
 
 Their gifts they bestow. 
 Through the darkness of night 
 
 We '11 lead him below, 
 And dazzle his sight 
 
 With the glorious show 
 Of the treasures we keep 
 In the mine dark and deep, 
 Of the treasures of earth, rich and rare ! 
 Good luck ! " 
 
 Tony gazed intently upon the rock, and 
 every moment expected to see the figures of 
 the elves and gnomes ; but he was disappoint- 
 ed, they did not appear. The glittering, many- 
 colored stream, however, suddenly took an- 
 other form, and before the boy could tell how 
 it all happened, its place was occupied by a 
 beautiful crimson macaw, with a golden top- 
 
THE MERRY TUNC E RS 
 
tony's friend. 
 
 107 
 
 knot on his head. The bird had a long tail 
 like a bird of paradise, and, strange to say, all 
 his plumage seemed made of colored crystals 
 or pearls, and not of feathers, like that of ordi- 
 nary birds. 
 
 The boy stepped back in amazement. 
 
 The bird then began to speak : " Be not 
 afraid, I belong to you ; I am the guide prom- 
 ised you by the elf-king; place me on your 
 shoulder that I may be quite near to you." 
 
 The bird's voice sounded soft and melodi- 
 ous, like a hymn. 
 
 Tony took heart, and lifted the bird from the 
 rock ; the macaw's plumage was smooth and 
 cold as crystal. Tony had no sooner placed 
 him on his shoulder, than he caressingly laid 
 his little head against the boy's cheek. 
 
 At that moment Rupert returned. 
 
 " Come, my lad," said he, " you might have 
 made better use of your time, instead of stand- 
 ing there so idle and lazy, as if you had al- 
 ready performed wonders of industry ! Come, 
 work away ! " 
 
 Tony hastily stooped, lifted his hammer, and 
 wondered not a little that the old man did not 
 seem to perceive the bird. 
 
108 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 " Tell me, my lad," said Rupert, mysteri- 
 ously, " have you seen nothing since I went 
 away ? " 
 
 Tony gave him a doubtful glance. 
 
 " Now you must understand what I mean ; 
 we miners have a tradition that little gnomes 
 and elves live down here below. The depths 
 of the earth — so people say — are their espe- 
 cial property, and as they are very angry with 
 men for intruding into their domains and car- 
 rying off their treasures, they play all sorts of 
 mad tricks to hinder and torment them. It is 
 also believed, that where the elves are, three 
 little flames like jack-a-lanterns seem to spring 
 out of the rock, and that one may be quite 
 sure when those three flames are seen that the 
 mischievous little creatures have been at some 
 deviltry. Well, just as I was coming to you, 
 I suddenly saw the three flames waving above 
 you, and the elves must certainly have been 
 here ; did you see nothing ? " 
 
 The old man gazed searchingly upon the 
 boy, who blushed scarlet, and replied, stam- 
 mering with embarrassment : " No, not the 
 least thing ! " 
 
Tony's friend. 
 
 109 
 
 " You lie, Tony, you lie ! " cried the macaw, 
 in a harsh, croaking voice. 
 
 The boy shuddered, and looked appalled. 
 
 " Come, come, what frightens you so ? " 
 continued Rupert. 
 
 " Why, why — " 
 
 " Come, tell the truth, my lad; is it not true 
 
 that you do not believe in elves ? " 
 " No — yes — that is — I think — " 
 " Tony, do not deny your friend ; none but 
 
 cowards do so ! " cried the red bird, in shrill 
 
 tones. 
 
 The boy had by this time recovered himself, 
 and said steadfastly and openly : " I certainly 
 believe that there may be such friendly little 
 elves, who will do us no harm, that is, if we 
 are good, and never disturb them ! " 
 
 " Bravo, Tony, bravo ! " laughed the bird. 
 
 It was very strange that Rupert did not hear 
 a single word of all the bird said, especially as 
 he spoke in tones so loud that they were 
 echoed and re-echoed from the rocks. 
 
 A short time after, the noon-bell rang, and 
 the miners had a short respite from their wea- 
 risome labor. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 tony's friend leaves him. 
 
 Many months had passed since Tony's first 
 arrival at Laubbrunn. Summer and Autumn 
 had gone, and Winter now "eigned, with his 
 short, melancholy days, and long, tedious 
 nights. 
 
 The boy's life in the Overseer's house was 
 often very miserable, and had it not been for 
 Mrs. Steele and dear little Maggie, he would 
 often have found it almost impossible to en- 
 dure. The Overseer's gloomy tyranny, his 
 ungovernable temper and avarice, rendered 
 life under his roof a real torment. Mary was 
 patient and gentle as an angel, and Maggie, 
 with her lively, childish ways, rarely failed to 
 win a kind glance from her stern father ; but 
 Tony was forced to bear the full weight of his 
 wrathful caprices. 
 
tony's friend leaves him. 
 
 Ill 
 
 He did not love the child, and had long 
 before repented having received him into his 
 house, although Tony was so industrious that 
 he fully earned the little he ate. He had soon 
 been forced to leave his pretty room near the 
 spring that so mysteriously murmured through 
 the darkness of the night. Notwithstanding 
 all Mary's entreaties, he was now forced k to 
 sleep in a miserable closet in the garret. 
 
 Tony was naturally a good-natured boy, 
 but he had many faults, among which the 
 chief was a certain hastiness of disposition ; 
 he readily became excited, and was very 
 touchy, and could not bear the least blame. 
 It was consequently a very hard trial to be 
 forced to listen submissively to all the scolding 
 and insults of an unjust man. 
 
 How often did the warning voice of the 
 strange bird resound in his ear, saying : 
 " Patience, Tony, patience ! He is no good 
 boy who cannot overcome his faults." 
 
 And when the boy would reply : " But I 
 meet with so much injustice ! I am only hasty 
 or stubborn because I am misused, and would 
 be very good and patient if I were only kindly 
 
112 * THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 treated ! " the bird would answer : "It is pre- 
 cisely because you are tempted, that you must 
 stand firm ; your virtue, to be real, must bear 
 the test of trial, and if you are submissive to 
 gentle Mrs. Steele, you deserve no praise ; 
 you cannot esteem yourself to possess any 
 virtue, until that virtue has been tried ! " 
 
 And this, my dear young reader, is a truth, 
 and what the bird says in the legend may be 
 useful to us all in our actual and daily life. 
 
 It was not strange that Tony should be 
 mild and obliging towards Mary, Maggie, 
 and even Rupert; for they were all so kind, 
 never saying a single word which could hurt 
 his feelings, that he must have been very bad 
 indeed had he failed to requite their goodness. 
 
 When he was first received into his god- 
 father's house, he was enchanted to have 
 found an asylum, and his thanks for the 
 slightest favor were warm and deep, for he 
 had already experienced hunger and want. 
 But later, when he knew that he earned his 
 bread through his labor, he felt a sense of 
 wrong and oppression when the Overseer 
 dealt harshly with him, and especially when 
 
tony's friend leaves him. 
 
 113 
 
 he daily repeated that he only kept him out 
 of charity. 
 
 " Ah, were it not for Mrs. Steele and Mag- 
 gie, I would so dearly love to leave this 
 place ! " would he often say to himself ; " for 
 the good elf could surely find me elsewhere, 
 and my faithful birdie would not desert me." 
 
 He might securely Trust in this last hope, 
 for the red macaw never moved a step away 
 from him ; he accompanied him down into 
 the deep mine, patiently sat on his shoulder 
 while he labored, slept at the head of his bed, 
 and was always the first to bid him " Good 
 morning!" when he awoke. If the boy had 
 been patient and good the day before, the 
 voice sounded clear and joyous ; but if the 
 bird gave him no greeting, Tony felt quite 
 sure that he was dissatisfied with his con- 
 duct. 
 
 Tony rose very early in the morning, long 
 before the faintest glimmering of dawn, and 
 joined the miners at the hour of prayer, when 
 they all piously recommended themselves to 
 the care of Heaven, ere they proceeded to 
 their dangerous and laborious duties. 
 
 8 
 
114 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT, 
 
 The road to the mine was generally frozen 
 hard, and covered with snow and ice, «o that 
 the poor boy's hands and feet were nearly 
 frozen before he reached the shaft. He was 
 there received by Rupert, who had become his 
 best friend, and who bestowed on him a real 
 fatherly care whenever he was able to do so ; 
 but of course the old man's powers were very 
 limited, and his only aid frequently consisted 
 in some merry tale, with which he strove to 
 shorten and lighten the boy's arduous and 
 monotonous labor. 
 
 It was really peculiar that no one saw the 
 macaw, or heard his voice, except Tony him- 
 self. 
 
 One evening, Tony was returning very late 
 home from the mine ; he was alone, and 
 walked slowly and wearily over the crackling 
 snow which sparkled in the moonlight. The 
 red bird was dancing along before him, beat- 
 ing the snow with his wings, and softly sing- 
 ing. 
 
 They thus approached the well, where all 
 was quiet and still ; but as the boy and his 
 companion were about passing on, there sud- 
 
tony's friend leaves him. 
 
 115 
 
 denly rose from the interior of the basin a 
 multitude of strange, mist-like little figures, 
 with flowing white beards, and trailing gar- 
 ments. Tony, already quite well acquainted 
 with these strange figures, quickly stepped 
 nearer, and immediately recognized the moun- 
 tain-elves by their spades and hammers, their 
 pretty miner's caps, and their golden locks. 
 The bird sat on the edge of the well, bowed 
 his head and his top-knot, and began to speak 
 with the elves in some strange and unknown 
 tongue. The latter danced noiselessly round 
 the brink of the well, nodded to the boy, and 
 sang : — 
 
 " Beware ! beware ! 
 This night a snare 
 Will treason dare ! " 
 
 These same words were continually repeated, 
 the sounds becoming fainter and fainter, until 
 the figures had entirely vanished into the dark- 
 ness of the night, or had melted into waving 
 wreaths of thin mist. 
 
 " I do not know what you mean, you good 
 little elves ! " said Tony. 
 
 The bird then repeated, in a loud, clear 
 tone : — 
 
116 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 u Beware ! beware ! 
 This night a snavc 
 Will treason dare ! " 
 
 Then away he flew to the Overseer's house. 
 
 Tony found his godfather sitting in the lit- 
 tle parlor. His face was flushed and heated, 
 and he seemed deeply engrossed with various 
 papers and accounts lying on the table before 
 him ; from time to time he groaned, appar- 
 ently with impatience and vexation. 
 
 u Come here, lad, and help me with my 
 papers. The Superintendent of the mines 
 comes to-morrow to look over the accounts 
 and receipts, and collect the sums due from 
 the mines. Sum up this row of figures ! " 
 
 The boy did as he was bid ; he had formerly 
 been considered a very good arithmetician, 
 and his industry while at school enabled him 
 to aid his godfather without the slightest 
 difficulty. 
 
 The Overseer paid the workmen their scanty 
 wages at the end of every week ; all the money 
 that the mine brought in passed through his 
 hands, and once every year he was obliged to 
 render an account to the Superintendent of all 
 he had received and all he had disbursed. 
 
tony's friend leaves him. 
 
 117 
 
 " Well, lad, you are a mighty long time 
 counting that up," finally growled the * Over- 
 seer, seeing that Tony again and again reck- 
 oned up the sum, but showed by repeated and 
 ominous shakes of the head that all was not 
 right. 
 
 " Look, godfather ! there is some mistake 
 somewhere,'' replied Tony ; " in the account 
 the income is stated at three hundred florins, 
 but there are only two hundred and fifty in 
 this purse." 
 
 M That is very strange, hand me the purse ; 
 what kind of money is it?" asked the Over- 
 seer. 
 
 " Gold-pieces," replied the boy, reaching out 
 the purse. 
 
 The old man put out his hand, but not 
 quite far enough, so that the purse fell be- 
 tween them, and the gold-pieces rolled over 
 the floor. 
 
 " Well, don't you niean to pick them up ? " 
 cried the Overseer; "or do you think, per- 
 haps, that the golden foxes will pick them- 
 selves up ? " 
 
 The boy got down on his hands and knees, 
 
118 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 gathered up the gold, which had rolled in every 
 direction, and counted it out upon the table ; 
 there were two hundred and fifty florins. 
 
 " Fifty florins are wanting! " cried the Over- 
 seer, in a harsh tone ; " get down and look for 
 them ! " 
 
 " I have already told you, godfather, that the 
 fifty florins were wanting before the money fell 
 on the floor." 
 
 " Nonsense ! None of your excuses ! Who 
 knows where you may have hidden the money, 
 you rascal ! There were exactly three hundred 
 florins ! " 
 
 " But, dear godfather, what do you mean ? I 
 do not understand you," replied the bewildered 
 boy. " I tell you there were only two hundred 
 and fifty florins in the purse before it fell ; don't 
 you remember, you told me to hand it to you 
 that you might see for yourself ? " 
 
 " Be quiet ! Leave your nonsense ; it will 
 do you no good here ! J tell you, there were 
 three hundred florins in the purse, and not one 
 penny less ; and whatever is wanting now, I 
 must search you for, my lad ; for while you 
 were creeping like a crab over the floor, you 
 
tony's friend leaves him, 
 
 119 
 
 might easily have let four or five gold pieces 
 wander into your own pockets." 
 
 Tony was so angry at such an imputation 
 that he could not speak a word. This was 
 indeed too much to bear ! What the Over- 
 seer meant by such an unreasonable suspicion 
 Tony could not divine, but he felt that some 
 terrible misfortune was now in store for him. 
 He had counted the money three times before 
 the purse fell, and each time the fifty florins 
 were missing ; he had told this to the Over- 
 seer, who, notwithstanding, had accused him 
 of having taken them, and who now ap- 
 proached him for the purpose of searching 
 his pockets. 
 
 " Do not touch me, godfather ! " cried the 
 boy, now thoroughly aroused ; " there will be 
 some harm done if you touch me ! " 
 
 " Aha ! Is it so, lad ? does your guilty con- 
 science torment you already ? Why will you 
 not show me your pockets ? " 
 
 " Because you have expressed a dishonora- 
 ble and shameful suspicion, which I am sure 
 you do not believe yourself ' " 
 
 The Overseer laughed contemptuously, and 
 
120 the mountain-elf's gift. 
 
 came still nearer to the indignant boy, who 
 had assumed so bold and defiant a mien, that, 
 however strong the old man might be, it 
 seemed more prudent for him to consider a 
 moment before he entered into an actual 
 struggle. 
 
 At that instant a post-coach was heard driv- 
 ing over the crackling snow, and a few mo- 
 ments after, it stopped before the door. 
 
 The Overseer grew deathly pale, turned 
 away from the boy, and threw papers, bills, 
 and money into an open closet, which he has- 
 tily locked, putting the key in his pocket. 
 
 He had scarcely done so when a tall, slender 
 man, enveloped in a fur cloak, entered ; it was 
 the Superintendent, who had come sooner 
 than he had been expected. 
 
 The Overseer made an endless number of 
 bows, relieved the stranger of his hat and 
 cloak with his own hands, bade him heartily 
 welcome, and sent Tony to tell Mrs. Steele to 
 prepare a good supper for their honored guest. 
 
 The Superintendent, a friendly gentleman, 
 soon made himself very comfortable ; the warm 
 room was very pleasant after so long and cold 
 
tony's friend leaves him. 
 
 121 
 
 a drive, and the sofa-cushions, on which he 
 stretched himself out, afforded a grateful re- 
 pose to his weary limbs. 
 
 As the boy left the room, the stranger said : 
 " A handsome little fellow ! Is he a relative 
 of yours ? " 
 
 " No, God be praised ! " replied the hypo- 
 critical Overseer. 
 
 " Why so ? Is the boy not good ? He looks 
 so candid and upright ! " 
 
 " All a mask, nothing but a mask, gracious 
 sir. I also was deceived by the boy's honest, 
 plausible appearance ; but God knows how I 
 have been punished for my confidence ! " 
 
 "Well, how?" 
 
 " O, he is a sly deceiver, and all the benefits 
 which I have showered upon him during many 
 months have been repaid with such base in- 
 gratitude, that he has actually lied to me and 
 stolen my property." 
 
 " Ah ! may you not be mistaken ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, gracious sir," said the Over- 
 seer, who then related several stories of Tony, 
 (pure inventions,) which were so terrible that 
 the Superintendent indignantly turned away 
 
122 the mountain-elf's gift. 
 
 his head, and said : " Why, then, do you toler- 
 ate such a young scapegrace under your roof ? " 
 
 " Through humanity, gracious sir ; I fear the 
 boy would come to some bad end were I to 
 turn him away, and as he is my godson — " 
 
 " Your kindness is praiseworthy, but I must 
 warn you , if the boy is really as bad as you 
 represent him, you must use severe measures 
 towards him, and not spoil him with over- 
 kindness ; you owe this to his own best inter- 
 ests. But now to our business. You know 
 that I am sent by the government to examine 
 into the income of the mines, and to compare 
 it with the accounts and receipts." 
 
 " I know it, gracious sir," replied Steele, 
 submissively, " and if you wish, we can begin 
 at once." 
 
 " What are you dreaming of? I have driven 
 twenty-four miles to-day, over your hilly roads, 
 and feel mortally weary ; to-morrow will be 
 time enough." 
 
 The Overseer bowed, and once more breathed 
 freely ; for my dear young readers will readily 
 understand how little sincerity was in his last 
 proposition. 
 
tony's friend leaves him. 123 
 
 The guest ate his supper, and soon after re- 
 tired to the room which Mary had prepared for 
 him. 
 
 Tony stood alone in his gloomy attic, with 
 burning tears of bitterness and indignation 
 rolling down his flushed cheeks. And yet the 
 poor boy had not heard the imputations which 
 the wicked Overseer had cast upon his truth 
 and honesty while talking with the Superin- 
 tendent , had he done so, he would have been 
 really desperate. What could his godfather 
 mean by accusing him of so base a deed ? 
 The boy vainly strove to divine the cause of 
 the strange proceeding, and meanwhile walked 
 up and down his room in a state of great ex- 
 citement, stamping with his feet, and sobbing 
 as if he had lost every hope in the world. 
 
 The red bird, Tony's truest friend, sat upon 
 the broken window-sill, gazed a long time with 
 earnest eyes upon the excited boy, and finally 
 said, in gentle tones : " Tony, moderate the 
 violence of your wrath , it cannot justify you, 
 and can do you no good." 
 
 The boy shuddered. " Nothing can do me 
 
124 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 any good now, for all is lost when I am taken 
 for a thief!" 
 
 " All is not lost, boy, if you will only con- 
 quer yourself, and govern your temper ; con- 
 sider the whole matter quietly, and justify 
 yourself to-morrow morning to the Overseer, 
 who certainly cannot harbor any evil inten- 
 tions towards you, and who will soon be con- 
 vinced of your innocence." 
 
 " Harbor no evil intentions ? " cried Tony, 
 with flashing eyes ; " he, the Overseer ? O, he 
 has the worst intentions towards me ; he is a 
 tyrannical, violent man, without one spark of 
 good-feeling! " 
 
 " You see what ugly faults anger and vio- 
 lence are, and you should therefore strive to 
 free yourself from them as soon as possible ! " 
 said the bird. 
 
 But Tony was too indignant, too deeply 
 imbittered, to listen to any advice. 
 
 " I will leave this house to-morrow, at the 
 first dawn of day!" continued he. "I was 
 quite as happy at my uncle's as I have been 
 since I came here, and there was no need for 
 the elf-king to bring me so far, only to make 
 me miserable ! " 
 
tony's friend leaves him. 
 
 125 
 
 The macaw's eyes flashed fire at this incon- 
 siderate speech, and again he repeated warn- 
 ingly, "Tony."' 
 
 The boy started ; but he was now blinded 
 by the excess of the dangerous failings which 
 he had on that very day wilfully encouraged, 
 until he scarcely recognized himself, 
 
 " Tell me, then," cried he, in loud and angry 
 tones, " tell me what I have gained by coming 
 here! Toil and labor the whole day long, 
 constant scolding and mean food, and now 
 this last accusation. I have not one single 
 friend, for you only ad\ise and blame, and no 
 one consoles me! No, no, the mountain-elf 
 has done me no good!" 
 
 Scarcely had these rash words left his lips, 
 when he would have given half his life to 
 recall them. The whole room was suddenly 
 filled with leaping yellow flames, which danced 
 upon the floor and walls, and every moment 
 became more fearful and threatening. 
 
 The boy stood near the window, and im- 
 ploringly stretched forth his hands to the red 
 bird ; never before had he felt so awe-stricken, 
 so utterly forsaken. 
 
126 the mountain-elf's gift. 
 
 Then, as on the first night of his arrival, the 
 white and foaming waves gushed through his 
 window ; the sparkling stream encircled the 
 macaw, which unfolded his shining wings and 
 floated on the surface of the flood, mournfully 
 singing the following words : — 
 
 " Farewell ! farewell ! 
 Thou bast repelled 
 Thy truest friend, 
 Who ever held 
 Thy good his end ! 
 Farewell ! " 
 
 The soft, moaning tones had scarcely died 
 away when the bird's form began to grow 
 more and more indistinct, until at length noth- 
 ing could be seen but a faint play of color, 
 like the reflection of the evening red in a clear 
 river; and before the astonished boy had re- 
 covered from his first surprise, the waves had 
 all retreated within the magic well, the mys- 
 terious flames had vanished, and all was still 
 and dark around him. 
 
 O how sorry poor Tony felt ! how he re- 
 pented his foolish passion ! Surely, now the 
 elf-king would never aid him again ! Ah ! he 
 
toxy's friend leaves him, 127 
 
 had really loved the red bird dearly, for he well 
 knew how kind were all his intentions ; even 
 when the faithful monitor angered him, his 
 own benefit was the object sought ! 
 
 But repentance came too late ! 
 
 He no longer wept from rage, but from bit- 
 ter sorrow. He begged and implored the elf- 
 king to send him back his guide ; he promised 
 faithfully that he would conquer himself, and 
 be more patient; yes, he would even gently 
 strive to convince the Overseer that his sus- 
 picion was unfounded. But all remained si- 
 lent and motionless round the desolate boy. 
 
 As he sadly and solitarily stood at the win- 
 dow, he suddenly perceived a man with a 
 hammer, standing beside the well. He looked 
 more keenly, and soon recognized the Overseer, 
 who slowly lifted a stone from its place in the 
 wall, laid a small purse and a pocket-book in 
 the cavity, and then carefully replaced the 
 stone in its' former position ; this done, he 
 slipped softly back into the house. 
 
 A multitude of strange thoughts flashed at 
 once through Tony's mind, and thus much 
 became clear to him, — that the Overseer feared 
 
128 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 the examination on the following day, and 
 that he wished to conceal some papers which 
 he dared not keep in the house. 
 
 " O," suddenly cried Tony, " he may per- 
 haps have accused me because he has himself 
 misused some of the government money ! " 
 
 This supposition was certainly very near 
 the truth ; the Overseer had been very neg- 
 ligent in his stewardship of the mine, and of 
 course had every reason to dread an exam- 
 ination. 
 
 It was almost midnight. 
 
 Tony's head wearily sank upon the window- 
 sill, and his eyes closed in a short, unrefreshing 
 slumber. Now he heard the red bird's mourn- 
 ful farewell, now he fancied he could distin- 
 guish the elf-king's angry voice, and again did 
 the Overseer yell his malicious accusation into 
 his ears. His heart beat anxiously, his pulse 
 was feverish, and great drops of cold sweat 
 stood upon his forehead. He suddenly thought 
 he felt some one shaking him ; he opened his 
 eyes, and perceived a brilliant stream of fiery 
 light flooding his room. 
 
 He threw up the window, and saw that the 
 
tony's friend leaves him. 129 
 
 lower story of the house, the sitting-room, was 
 in flames. 
 
 " Fire ! Fire ! Help ! " cried he loudly, and 
 then rushed down the steps. 
 
 Below, he met the Overseer raging and 
 storming about. Mary and Maggie were in 
 safety without, the servants were all awake, 
 and the neighbors were hastening in to lend 
 their aid. All were scolding, hurrying, and 
 jostling one another ; the Superintendent 
 seemed to be the only person retaining his 
 senses. 
 
 He boldly opened the door of the burn- 
 ing room, and called out to the Overseer: 
 " Where are the government papers and mon- 
 ey, Steele ? " 
 
 u Yonder, in the closet, gracious sir ! " re- 
 plied Steele, without approaching any nearer ; 
 " yonder, near the chimney ! " 
 
 A rapid glance convinced the Superintend- 
 ent that a heap of ashes was all that remained 
 of either closet or papers. 
 
 The loss was considerable, but the Super- 
 intendent was too sensible a man to waste 
 valuable time in useless repinings, and im- 
 
 9 
 
130 the mountain-elf's gift. 
 
 mediately applied himself to the direction of 
 the extinguishing apparatus, which, on account 
 of the mine, was very good at Laubbrunn; 
 at the end of a half-hour the fire was entirely 
 quenched. 
 
 The Superintendent then cautiously entered 
 the sitting-room, which, with its torn carpets, 
 charred tables and furniture, and fluttering 
 curtains, looked really desolate. The reflective 
 and experienced officer could not free himself 
 from a very serious suspicion. It seemed 
 strange that the fire should have broken out 
 in the closet ; for although it stood very near 
 the chimney, yet the wainscoting between the 
 chimney and the closet was scarcely burned at 
 all, and it was impossible the flames could 
 have overleaped this space, had they proceeded 
 in the first instance from the fireplace. 
 
 The Superintendent attentively considered 
 all these facts , could it be possible that Steele 
 had dreaded an examination into his papers, 
 and had himself destroyed them ? Mr. Von 
 Behren, the Superintendent, blamed himself, 
 however, for this dreadful suspicion ; Steele 
 had hitherto proved himself perfectly trust- 
 
tony's friend leaves him. 
 
 131 
 
 worthy, and it seemed unchristian to suspect 
 him now. 
 
 As Mr. Von Behren still stood reflecting, his 
 eyes wandered towards the nearest window, 
 and there fell upon a ball of thread dipped in 
 sulphur, and several matches. 
 
 There could no longer be any doubt that the 
 room had been purposely fired, and the matches 
 and thread forgotten in the incendiary's hasty 
 retreat. 
 
 At that moment the Overseer, tortured by 
 his guilty conscience, entered the room. One 
 look convinced him that he was betrayed, and 
 his wicked heart inspired him to throw the 
 blame upon another before he was himself 
 accused. 
 
 He quickly recovered his composure, ap- 
 proached Mr. Von Behren with a mysterious 
 air, and before that gentleman had time to 
 express his suspicions, the Overseer said, in 
 firm and decided tones : " Gracious sir, if I 
 am not very much deceived, this has been 
 the work of an incendiary." 
 
 Mr. Von Behren looked up in astonishment, 
 and, without giving any indication of his own 
 
132 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 sentiments, quietly said : " Why do you think 
 
 so?" 
 
 " Because it is strange that this closet should 
 be entirely consumed while the wainscoting 
 is so little injured ; the fire could not have 
 arisen in the closet unless some one had pur- 
 posely placed combustible matter in or near 
 it." 
 
 The Superintendent gazed a moment upon 
 the deceiver's countenance ; it was strange that 
 the very man whom -he had just suspected 
 should be the first to utter his own thoughts. 
 
 " You make a heavy charge upon some 
 one, Steele," said Mr. Von Behren, solemnly ; 
 " think well of what you are doing! " 
 
 " I know that, but I also know that I am 
 now upon the right track. Your lordship will 
 remember that I complained yesterday of the 
 young lad — my godson — " 
 
 " Certainly ; well, what then ? " 
 
 " Why, only yesterday I missed fifty florins 
 which he had stolen from me while aiding me 
 with my accounts." 
 
 " Are you sure of that ? " 
 
 " Certainly, I found them in his clothes." 
 
tony's friend leaves him. 
 
 1-33 
 
 " Bat what could have induced the boy to 
 be wicked enough to set fire to the house ? " 
 
 " Revenge, probably, because I caught him 
 stealing, and also, perhaps, to injure me with 
 your lordship." 
 
 The Overseer continued to speak upon the 
 same subject until Mr. Von Behren's suspi- 
 cions were quite firmly fastened upon Tony. 
 Amongst other things, he said that at the first 
 alarm Tony had made his appearance com- 
 pletely dressed, and consequently could not 
 *have been aroused from sleep by the cry of 
 fire. 
 
 Alas ! no one knew how Tony had sud- 
 denly been overcome by sleep while weeping 
 for his lost friend. 
 
 Nothing could have served the Overseer's 
 purpose better than the fact of his having 
 maligned his little godson the evening before. 
 The Superintendent commanded the chief 
 magistrate of the place to be sent for, and 
 the boy meanwhile to be closely imprisoned. 
 
 When Tony finally understood what it all 
 was about, he seemed actually petrified with 
 terror. His rage had cooled down ; he was 
 
134 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 dumb, and pale as death, and it was some 
 moments before he could recover himself suf- 
 ficiently to ask : " And who, good heavens ! 
 who deems me capable of such a crime ? " 
 
 " I," said ths Overseer. " I, who know that 
 you can both lie and steal." 
 
 Mary and Maggie sobbed aloud. 
 
 But Tony now recovered his self-possession ; 
 the blue veins in his forehead suddenly swelled, 
 and a hot glow flushed his cheeks. He stepped 
 directly before the Overseer, and said, firmly : 
 " Is it you, my godfather, who have blackened 
 my character ? All is clear then ; for what care 
 you to bring ruin on a poor orphan boy, if you 
 can only justify yourself? I, godfather, have 
 no need to kindle fires in order to destroy dis- 
 orderly papers and false accounts, — but you?" 
 
 The Overseer was outrageous, and seized 
 the boy by the shoulder, shaking him so rough- 
 ly that he groaned aloud. Nevertheless, he 
 boldly continued : " You need not all look so 
 disconcerted, as if I had lost my senses ; if 
 you come with me to the weil, I can prove the 
 truth of my assertion." 
 
 The Overseer suddenly became as white as 
 a sheet. 
 
tony's friend leaves him. 
 
 135 
 
 " What is that about the well ? " cried the 
 Superintendent, quickly. 
 
 " O, there are some papers there which the 
 Overseer saved from the fire, and hid under a 
 stone." 
 
 The Overseer could no longer control him- 
 self. Mr. Von Behren commanded the boy 
 to prove his assertion, and all hastened to the 
 well. 
 
 Steele followed with trembling limbs. It 
 was now early dawn ; a cloudy, melancholy 
 winter's day added to the gloom which already 
 weighed upon the spirits of all present. 
 
 Ere Tony reached the well, Mrs. Steele ap- 
 proached, and whispered in imploring tones : 
 " Do not ruin us, Tony." 
 
 The poor woman had divined her husband's 
 guilt; for to her, who knew him well, he al- 
 ready looked like a condemned criminal. 
 
 The boy started at the sound of Mary's 
 voice ; his tender heart was deeply touched. 
 Maggie also hung weeping on his arm, but of 
 course the little girl could not comprehend 
 what all the trouble was about. 
 
 Tony stood hesitating what he should do ; 
 
136 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 but now he could not screen the Overseer 
 without drawing the suspicion of all upon 
 himself. 
 
 " Well, boy, where are the papers ? " cried 
 the Superintendent. 
 
 Tony still hesitated ; he sought Mary's eyes 
 with an imploring glance, which plainly said : 
 " Alas, I cannot do otherwise ! " Mary had 
 turned away, sobbing. 
 
 The Superintendent became still more ur- 
 gent ; he drew the boy forward and said : 
 " Make haste, and prove what you have said, 
 or we will think you have told us a falsehood, 
 and your punishment will be three times as 
 severe." 
 
 Tony was still silent; conflicting feelings 
 warred in his bosom. Were he to proceed no 
 further, all the blame would fall upon his own 
 head, and he would be branded as a thief; but 
 Mary and Maggie would be saved, and the 
 Overseer would continue as before in his 
 present position. 
 
 The sacrifice was too great, The Overseer 
 had too bitterly tormented and belied him ; 
 Tony could not forgive and suffer for his ene- 
 
tony's friend leaves him. 137 
 
 my; that seemed to him too much for any 
 one to ask. 
 
 A moment after, he lifted the loose stone 
 from its place in the wall. But, wonderful to 
 relate ! in the cavity lay some loose pebbles 
 and an old miner's cap. 
 
 A strange sound, as of foaming waters, was 
 heard below in the well; mocking laughter 
 fell upon the boy's ears, and he could not mis- 
 take the soft and melancholy tones of a voice, 
 saying : — 
 
 I " Farewell ! farewell ! 
 Thou hast repelled 
 Thy truest friend, 
 Who ever held 
 Thy good his end ! ' 
 Farewell ! " 
 
 The boy's uplifted arms fell powerless at his 
 side ; he felt that his friends, the elves, had 
 entirely forsaken him, and that they had de- 
 stroyed his proofs in order to ruin him. 
 
 " Are those your proofs ? " asked the Super- 
 intendent, indignantly. 
 
 The boy was silent. 
 
 The next moment he was taken to prison, 
 
138 the mountain-elf's gift. 
 
 and the Overseer, with many apologies and 
 expressions of esteem, led back to his house. 
 
 But Steele himself was still pale and anx- 
 ious ; he divined that some strange hand had 
 interfered in his affairs ; for he knew too well 
 that, in the very spot where the cap and pebbles 
 lay, he had only a few hours before placed 
 money and papers which he had intended to 
 keep for himself. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 tony's friend returns. 
 
 Many days and many nights had passed 
 away. Tony was still a captive in the gloomy 
 prison at Laubbrnnn, and seemed to have 
 been entirely forgotten by his judges ; he was 
 not called up for trial. One endless day passed 
 after another, and he never saw the light of a 
 human countenance. Every morning he found 
 bread and water standing by his bedside, but 
 he never beheld the hand that brought them. 
 Poor boy ! How desolate he felt, how utter- 
 ly forsaken ! 
 
 During the first few days he was depressed 
 and quiet, he then became impatient, and 
 finally outrageous with passion ; he shook the 
 door until the bolts rattled loudly, but no one 
 came to his aid. He sometimes thought that 
 
140 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 all this might only be a trial on the part of the 
 elf-king ; but he felt too bitterly to allow him- 
 self to dwell upon this possibility. He was 
 angry with his former friend, and thought of 
 him only with unkind feelings. Misfortune 
 had thus far exercised no beneficial influence 
 upon Tony's disposition, and he now especially 
 needed a friend who would advise him to pa- 
 tience and resignation. For my dear reader 
 will doubtless have learned long ago, that no 
 suffering, of whatever kind it may be, can be 
 relieved by impatience. On the contrary, we 
 always feel it doubly when we refuse to be 
 pliant and submissive. 
 
 How did it benefit Tony that he always 
 thought more and more angrily and unforgiv- 
 ingiy of the Overseer, and that he continually 
 renewed in his mind the image of the wrongs 
 and injustice he had endured ? All this did him 
 no good ; it did not render him more contented, 
 and in no degree diminished the evils of his 
 actual condition, and yet it was quite certain 
 that his outraged friends would only again 
 aid him when he really deserved their assist- 
 ance. 
 
tony's friend returns. 141 
 
 He had no desire to think of Mary and 
 Maggie. 
 
 One evening he stood by the narrow win- 
 dow of his cell, and leaned his hot cheek 
 against the iron lattice. He looked out into 
 the dim twilight, and only indistinctly per- 
 ceived in the far distance the mysterious well. 
 Then sorrow and longing suddenly filled his 
 heart, all rancor vanished, and he sighed as he 
 said, with tears in his eyes : " O if I could 
 only see my dear little birdie once more ! He 
 was indeed a true friend ! " 
 
 All at once he thought he heard a voice as- 
 cending from below; he forced his head through 
 the iron bars, to look down. He saw nothing, 
 but what was his amazement to find that one 
 of the bars was broken, and moved to one side. 
 He shook it forcibly with both hands, and lo ! 
 the iron bar fell to the ground. 
 
 Tony was wild with joy, for the opening 
 was quite large enough to suffer his slight 
 figure to pass through. He examined the 
 height, which he found to be about seven feet 
 from the ground ; the earth was still covered 
 with a soft coating of snow. He jumped out, 
 
142 the mountain-elf's gift. 
 
 and a moment after lay below. His lips bled, 
 and he was otherwise slightly bruised : he had 
 fallen upon a sharp stone ; but he cared little 
 for such petty scratches, for he was at length 
 free. 
 
 He thankfully lifted his hands to the cloudy 
 heavens, which hung over the landscape like a 
 gray pall. His heart beat lightly and joyfully, 
 and he hastened through the snow-covered 
 fields, as if he had been pursued by a host of 
 enemies. 
 
 He hurried on during several hours. A 
 heavy snow-storm finally impeded his ad- 
 vance ; the thick flakes fell like needles upon 
 his unprotected face and head. He was lightly 
 clothed, and trembled like an aspen-leaf in the 
 night- wind ; his hair hung wet and icy cold 
 over his beating temples. 
 
 " I must rest ! " cried he, finally exhausted. 
 But far or near no shelter could he see ; above 
 him rose the bare, giant branches of the leaf- 
 less trees, and all the bushes were covered 
 with icicles, which tore the poor boy's hands. 
 Alas ! this was no happy state of freedom ! 
 
 He struggled with his excessive fatigue, but 
 
tony's friend returns. 143 
 
 did not know that sleeping on the cold snow 
 might cause his death. He finally sank upon 
 the ground, and after a few moments slum- 
 bered soundly. 
 
 When he again opened his eyes, he thought 
 he must be under the influence of some 
 heavenly dream, so peaceful and happy was 
 all around him. 
 
 His weary limbs reposed upon a soft couch, 
 and snow-white pillows supported his head. 
 Around the bed hung ample curtains of white 
 muslin, and the bright flames in the chimney- 
 place threw waving, golden reflections upon 
 the snowy drapery. Near the bed was a little 
 table with twisted wooden legs, on which stood 
 cooling drinks, and a small lamp of polished 
 brass. Not .far from the table was a high- 
 backed arm-chair covered with black velvet, 
 in which sat an old lady dressed in a dark 
 woollen gown and a lace cap. She held a 
 prayer-book, bound in black velvet, in her 
 hand, and read assiduously. 
 
 As soon as she perceived that the boy had 
 moved, she laid aside her book, and said 
 
144 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 kindly : " Ah ! you are awake at last, my little 
 fellow. You have occasioned us much anxiety ; 
 but that seems to be all over now, for you look 
 as gay and lively as a meadow lark." 
 
 " But where then am I ? " cried Tony, as- 
 tonished. 
 
 The woman laughed, and replied : " With 
 people who have the best intentions towards 
 you ; therefore set your mind at rest, and do 
 not fear. My son, who is a hunter in this 
 forest, found you two nights ago, lying on the 
 snow asleep, and almost frozen. He brought 
 you here in his arms, and we employed every 
 means in our power to rouse you ; our efforts 
 were long in vain, but finally you awoke. 
 Your pulse, however, was very high, and you 
 talked all kind of stuff about prisons and 
 elves, a magic well, and an Overseer. Those 
 were of course only phantasms occasioned by 
 fever." 
 
 " No, indeed, good lady ! it was all true," 
 whispered Tony, sadly. 
 
 The good old woman feared that the fever 
 had returned ; she advised the boy to remain 
 very quiet, gave him a cooling drink, and 
 
tony's friend returns. 
 
 145 
 
 sang him a little song, during which he fell 
 asleep, for he was very feeble. 
 
 But after a few days he recovered his 
 strength entirely, and thereby delighted the 
 kind hearts of his new friends. 
 
 Anselm, the young hunter, said to him : 
 " My lad, if you wish to stay where you are, 
 and would like to be a hunter, you may re- 
 main with us, for I am sure my good mother 
 will willingly take care of you." 
 
 Dame Gunilla nodded a kind assent to this 
 proposition, and Tony was only too happy. 
 He now began an entirely new mode of life. 
 
 Gunilla was an excellent old lady, who 
 lived with her son in a state of great seclusion, 
 but who, nevertheless, had the warmest sym- 
 pathies for all her fellow-beings. 
 
 The boy's sad tale, and his desolate con- 
 dition, touched her deeply, although she could 
 not but acknowledge the extent of his faults, 
 and her efforts were now all directed to- 
 wards reconciling him with the Overseer. 
 She wished to undertake the direction of the 
 boy's mind, as her son had done the care of 
 his body. 
 
 10 
 
146 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 The hunter's dwelling stood quite alone in 
 a thick wood, which in summer was truly 
 charming, but which now groaned beneath 
 a heavy covering of snow and ice ; the little 
 house, with its red brick walls, was sheltered 
 and protected without by the huge oak at 
 whose foot it was built, and within it looked 
 so quiet and peaceful that Tony felt quite 
 happy. 
 
 He went hunting, helped to fell trees, and 
 made himself so useful that Anselm was 
 highly pleased with him. In the evening 
 they all sat round the fireplace in Gun ilia's 
 little parlor, talking with one another, and 
 Tony soon learned to call the good old woman 
 by the tender name of " mother." 
 
 " Listen, my child," said she one evening ; 
 "what is the name of the place where you 
 lived?" 
 
 " Laubbrunn, dear mother." 
 
 " Strange that I never should have heard 
 the name before ; do you knoAV the place, 
 Anselm ? " 
 
 " I have never been there," replied the 
 son ; " but I have been told it lies some forty- 
 
tony's friend returns. 
 
 147 
 
 eight miles from here among the moun- 
 tains." 
 
 " But that cannot be so, dear Anselm," 
 cried the boy, " because I only walked during 
 one night." 
 
 " O you only fancy so ! " laughed the hunter. 
 
 " Certainly not ; it is true I ran as if Death 
 himself were at my heels, for I was afraid of 
 that shameful Overseer." 
 
 Gunilla shook her gray head reprovingly, 
 and said : " Have you no milder term to apply 
 to your godfather, Tony ? " 
 
 The boy's cheeks glowed. 
 
 " No, no, I can never speak mildly of him! " 
 cried Tony ; " he has robbed me of everything, 
 even of my good name, and it was his fault 
 that my little friend left me." 
 
 " No, my child, you are mistaken," replied 
 the old woman ; " you do as too many men 
 are in the habit of doing ; you blame others 
 for your own faults. Your protector took 
 away your little friend in consequence of 
 your own violence and ingratitude ; and even 
 if the latter were merely momentary, you can 
 thus see how easily one fault leads to another ; 
 
148 THE MOUNTAIN-ELF'S GIFT. 
 
 for had you not been blinded by anger, you 
 .would never have uttered such thankless and 
 inconsiderate words." 
 
 Tony blushed ; he felt that Gunilla spoke 
 the truth ; nevertheless, he could not refrain 
 from saying : " But the magic bird certainly 
 asked too much from me. How can one be 
 good and gentle when one is so tormented ? " 
 
 " It is only then, my child, that patience 
 and gentleness become virtues ; for if you 
 are praised and rewarded, you deserve no rec- 
 ompense for being mild and good. But when 
 you are thus towards those who injure you, 
 then are you really virtuous ; and your little 
 friend by no means asked too much of you 
 when he desired you to have patience with 
 your godfather." 
 
 Tony felt that Gunilla was quite right, but 
 he thought it must be very difficult to be so 
 good and virtuous as she proposed. 
 
 " It is indeed not easy, my child, because it 
 is always difficult to overcome our faults and 
 weaknesses ; but the more needful is it al- 
 ways to renew our efforts, and especially to 
 banish all hatred and malice from our souls." 
 
tony's friend returns. 
 
 149 
 
 The winter was now over, and the beautiful 
 spring called all the birds and flowers from 
 their long sleep. Life again awoke round the 
 little house, which stood as in a blooming 
 wreath of perfumed shrubs and flowers. The 
 larks sang joyfully in the morning light, spar- 
 rows and wagtails bathed their little feet in the 
 brook, and tried to outsing the thrushes and 
 red-breasts. Squirrels and deer gambolled 
 amid the trees and upon the grass, while the 
 clumsy tree-frogs leaped merrily amid the 
 damp turf. Wondrously strange and beau- 
 tiful was the life which had sprung up in the 
 forest and on the meadow, and Tony thought 
 he had never been so happy before. His only 
 desire now was to be reconciled with the good 
 elf, and to show him that he had really loved 
 his little guide. But he neither saw nor heard 
 anything of either elf or bird, and feared they 
 had for ever forsaken and forgotten him. 
 
 Tony had become very skilful in the dis- 
 charge of his duties, and vastly preferred the la- 
 bor of a forester in the fresh, green wood, under 
 the free canopy of heaven, to that of a miner, 
 in the dark and gloomy recesses of the earth. 
 
150 THE MOUNTAIN ELF's GIFT. 
 
 He perfectly understood the management of 
 his little gun, and could also oversee the 
 wood-cutters and day-laborers. Anselm often 
 praised Tony, and called him his active, indus- 
 trious little lad. 
 
 One afternoon, near twilight, Tony, with 
 his gun over his shoulder, came singing and 
 whistling towards the house. As he crossed 
 the broad wagon-road leading through the for- 
 est, he perceived a miserable-looking beggar 
 sitting by the way-side. The poor fellow 
 seemed ill and weary, for he groaned like a 
 dying man and. wept aloud. The boy was 
 about to hasten to him ; but at that moment 
 Anselm appeared, and compassionately ap- 
 proached the poor creature. The latter looked 
 up, and Tony, who stood unobserved behind a 
 thick willow-tree, nearly screamed aloud, for 
 the sick beggar was none other than his god- 
 father. 
 
 The boy drew noiselessly back and listened 
 as Anselm said : " You seem to be suffering 
 from exhaustion, and perhaps from hunger! 
 Come with me ; I will take you to my house 
 and provide for all your wants." 
 
tony's friend returns. 
 
 151 
 
 " I cannot follow you ; my foot is very sore, 
 and I have been wandering in this wilderness 
 for the last three days," replied the Overseer, 
 lifting his hollow eyes to the forester's kind 
 face. 
 
 Anselm gave a look of surprise ; how could 
 the beggar call the pleasant little wood, with 
 its birds and flowers, a wilderness. The young 
 hunter did not divine, that to an evil con- 
 science every path seems rough and thorny, 
 and every place appears a desert. He thought 
 the beggar must be very ill, and, good-na- 
 turedly offering him his arm, said : " Lean 
 upon me, good old man ; I will aid you, and 
 we will soon reach my dwelling, where you 
 will find refreshment and repose." 
 
 The Overseer rose slowly and painfully from 
 the ground; and as he took the young man's 
 proffered arm, he said : " O, how long it is 
 since I have been kindly spoken to ! All shun 
 me in my poverty and misery ; but indeed I 
 have deserved no better treatment." 
 
 The hunter threw his powerful arm around 
 the poor old man, and, thus supported, the lat- 
 ter was enabled slowly to approach the little 
 
152 THE MOUNTAIN ELF's GIFT. 
 
 house. Tony, however, remained behind, while 
 good and evil angels struggled for the victory 
 in his childish bosom. The good persuaded 
 him to a reconciliation with the man who had 
 so wronged him ; the evil, on the other hand, 
 bitterly reminded him of all he had suffered, 
 and whispered, " Your wicked godfather will 
 be served quite right if he is now forced to 
 learn the miseries of poverty and misfortune." 
 
 Tony felt deeply all Ü13 advice given him 
 by his little guide, and all that Gunilla had 
 said to him ; but he was not yet good enough 
 to be willing entirely to forgive and forget all 
 the painful past. Even when he had reached 
 the house, he had not decided upon his course 
 of conduct. 
 
 Since the eventful night of the fire, nothing 
 had prospered with the Overseer. The young 
 reader knows that he had really abstracted the 
 money and concealed it in the w,all surround- 
 ing the well, and that he had also purposely 
 fired the house and burned the closet. The 
 elf-king, in order to try the boy and strengthen 
 his virtue, had destroyed the proofs which 
 would otherwise have ruined the Overseer ; but 
 
tony's friend returns. 153 
 
 the latter was not yet saved, for he was con- 
 tinually tortured by his guilty conscience, and 
 he knew well that whoever had played him 
 the trick of exchanging the purse for an old 
 miner's cap must be a bitter and powerful en- 
 emy. 
 
 His thought left him no peace by day or by 
 night, and he became as pale as a ghost. The 
 Superintendent also mistrusted him, for he 
 could find no satisfactory explanation of the 
 Overseer's evident depression and anxiety on 
 that fearful night- 
 
 One evening, about two weeks after the fire, 
 the Superintendent accidentally stood by the 
 mysterious well ; he suddenly perceived a tall, 
 thin miner standing near him, whose counte- 
 nance shone mildly and kindly in the moon- 
 light. The stranger silently pointed to the 
 stone which Tony had vainly removed from 
 the wall, and lo ! it rolled out of its own ac- 
 cord, and with it fell a pocket-book and a 
 purse of shining gold. 
 
 The Superintendent lifted them from the 
 ground, and held the full proofs of Steele's 
 guilt in his hands ; but he could not yet un- 
 
154 THE MOUNTAIN ELF's GIFT. 
 
 derstand it all, and turned to his silent com- 
 panion in search of an explanation. But the 
 pale miner had vanished. 
 
 Steele could no longer deny the truth; his 
 uneasy conscience betrayed him ; he acknowl- 
 edged his guilt, lost his place, and only through 
 flight escaped a more severe punishment. But 
 ere he went, he learned that Tony's prison was 
 empty, and that the boy had escaped. The 
 image of the little godson whom he had be- 
 trayed constantly pursued him; day and night 
 he heard the boy's melancholy lamentations, 
 and nowhere could he find peace or rest. To- 
 ny's cry of horror, when brought forward and 
 accused of such grievous misdeeds, rang con- 
 tinually in his ears. 
 
 Weeks and months passed, and he was still 
 a homeless wanderer on the face of the earth. 
 The little house in the forest lay in truth at 
 the distance of several days' journey from 
 Laubbrunn, so that the elf-king must himself 
 have aided our Tony. 
 
 Mary and Maggie lived alone in a small vil- 
 lage, where the former earned her daily bread 
 by spinning. 
 
tony's friend returns. 
 
 155 
 
 It was quite dark before Tony entered the 
 house ; and as he had not yet determined how 
 he would meet his godfather, he paused in the 
 entry near the door of* the sitting-room, which 
 chanced to be open. The boy looked in and 
 saw the Overseer sitting in a low chair, and 
 eagerly eating some warm broth which Gunilla 
 had prepared for him. He was very pale and 
 thin, but his eyes glowed with excitement, and 
 he seemed to have just finished his melancholy 
 history, for he added : " O, if my mind were 
 only at rest about the boy; if I only knew 
 whether he lived and could forgive me! 
 Sometimes when I had lain awake during 
 the whole night, tormented by anxiety and 
 sorrow, and finally towards morning fell 
 asleep, I would hear strange, whispering 
 voices, — such as they say the elves have, — 
 saying : ' When Tony forgives you, your mis- 
 ery will have an end ! ' 99 
 
 " What was the boy's name ? " cried An- 
 selm and Gunilla, breathless. 
 
 " Tony," was the answer. 
 
 Mother and son looked significantly at one 
 another, but did not say how near the boy 
 
156 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN ELf's GIFT. 
 
 was, because they wished first to prepare him, 
 and were not sure that he would return home 
 during the evening ; for when the weather was 
 mild, Tony frequently slept in the woods. 
 
 But he* had heard all, and his heart beat 
 loudly and stormily ; he hastened into the gar- 
 den, for he did not dare to enter the room 
 while he was so fearfully excited. He sat 
 down in his favorite place, under a tall lilac- 
 bush, and leaned his head upon his hand. It 
 is said that sleep dwells amid the fragrant 
 blossoms of the lilac, and that all who rest 
 under ite branches must sleep. I do not know 
 if that be really the case ; but, however, Tony 
 soon fell into a deep slumber. 
 
 He was suddenly awakened from a series 
 of perplexing dreams by the sound of a low, 
 sweet strain of music , he opened his eyes ; it 
 must have been near midnight, for all the 
 lights in the cottage had been extinguished, 
 but the stars were beaming down from heaven 
 like friendly angels' eyes, and the moonlight 
 trembled over the blooming shrub. The strain 
 continued. Tony looked up longingly among 
 the branches, and lo ! his presentiment had not 
 
tony's friend returns. • 157 
 
 deceived him, for on one of the lowest limbs 
 sat the magic bird. 
 
 The boy cried out with joy, and raised his 
 hand toward the bird. But the macaw flew 
 out of his reach, and said : " I am not yours 
 yet, Tony ; I must first know whether you de- 
 serve me." 
 
 " O, what shall I do that you may again be- 
 come mine, and my friend as before ? " cried 
 the boy. 
 
 " Have you done all that I desired you to 
 do ? " asked the bird. 
 The boy was silent. 
 
 " Remember the Overseer ! " said the warn- 
 ing voice; "can you not yet forgive him ? Can 
 you not renounce your bitter feelings ? " 
 
 Tony's heart suddenly melted with tender- 
 ness and joy ; tears stood in his eyes, and he 
 sobbed aloud, saying : " Yes, yes, I can forgive 
 him ; I know now, and have long known, that 
 you advised me for my own benefit, and am 
 now determined to be good, and to follow all 
 your instructions." 
 
 Scarcely had he said the words, when the 
 bird flew down, lighted on the shoulder of the 
 
158 the mountain-elf's gift. 
 
 happy boy, laid his little head against his 
 cheek, caressed him, and loudly carolled for 
 
 " I am now content, my son," suddenly said 
 a soft voice, and the tall, pale miner, the king 
 of the mountain-elves, stood before Tony, who 
 joyfully threw himself at the feet of his kind 
 friend. " You have now recovered my love 
 and favor, you have heroically struggled with 
 your worst' faults, and the more severe the 
 combat, the more honor you deserve. You 
 will now be happy, whereas, if you had yielded 
 to your failings, your portion in life would 
 have been one of bitterness and sorrow. I 
 will also now forgive your godfather, as you 
 have done, and his misery will end when you 
 have assured him of your kind feelings to- 
 wards him. You must keep your little feath- 
 ered friend as a remembrance from me ; hence- 
 forth he will neither warn nor blame, but will 
 merely assist you with his counsel, which will 
 always be the best you can find. Farewell, 
 my child, and never cease to walk in the good 
 way on which you have now entered." 
 
 Before Tony could reply, the elf-king had 
 
THE RETURN 
 
tony's friend returns. 159 
 
 vanished ; but the red bird sat upon his shoul- 
 der, spread out its variegated feathers, and re- 
 joiced with the larks which had just awaked 
 from their light slumbers, for the day had 
 meanwhile broken. 
 
 When the Overseer opened his eyes, he 
 fancied himself still pursued by the torment- 
 ing images of his evil dreams, and lifting his 
 hand to his face, as if to shut out the sight of 
 Tony, who stood before him, he cried : "Is it 
 your spirit, poor boy, which thus pursues me ? " 
 
 61 Ah, God forbid, dear godfather ! It is I, 
 myself, your little Tony, who will no longer 
 remember that you once could not bear him. 
 I will work for you that you may become 
 strong and healthy, and we will go and bring 
 Mrs. Steele and dear Maggie here. What 
 great eyes the sweet little girl will make, 
 when she sees the wood and the beautiful 
 flowers ! " 
 
 It was a long time before the Overseer fully 
 recovered from his surprise, or could be brought 
 to understand Tony's generosity. 
 
 All now went well; Gunilla and Anselm 
 arranged the prettiest little rooms for the 
 
160 the mountain-elf's gift. 
 
 Overseer and his family ; Mary soon regained 
 her color in the fresh air of the forest, and 
 Maggie became as lively and happy as ever. 
 The Overseer also recovered his health, and 
 with health came cheerfulness and energy. 
 He never returned to the mine, but Anselm 
 gave him work sufficient to maintain himself 
 and his family. He labored industriously, and 
 never again fell back into his old faults. 
 
 But Tony was the gayest and happiest 
 among them all ; he was always patient and 
 good, and the elf-king remained his protector 
 to the last hour of his life. 
 
 And now, my dear young readers, I wish 
 you all such a friend as Tony possessed in his 
 magic bird. The good macaw found little to 
 blame, but could lighten all the boy's labor by 
 bringing him good fortune, peace, and joy ; for 
 the elf-king had conferred this power upon his 
 messenger, and the good bird discharged all his 
 duties faithfully. 
 
 Tony's trials were thus all finally ended, and 
 he became as contented and happy as any little 
 boy could wish to be. 
 
THE DEAR RECKONING. 
 
 A TRUE STORY. 
 
 11 
 
THE DEAR RECKONING. 
 
 One fine summer afternoon, a handsome 
 hunting-carriage was seen on the road lead- 
 ing to Bordeaux, apparently hastening towards 
 some secure shelter from the thunder-storm 
 which was darkening the heavens, and mo- 
 mentarily threatening to burst upon the trav- 
 ellers. 
 
 In the carriage sat two young men, of about 
 twenty years of age ; the one upon the right 
 had dark, fiery eyes, and curly, black hair. 
 He was evidently a Frenchman ; his name 
 was Ferdinand Maria, Duke of Orleans, and 
 he was the eldest son of Louis Philippe, then 
 king of France. 
 
 The fair-haired young man at his side was 
 his aide-de-camp. They had both been spend- 
 
164 
 
 THE DEAR RECKONING. 
 
 ing some weeks in Bordeaux, and were just 
 returning from a hunting-party. 
 
 " It is of no use, Josselin, the storm will sure- 
 ly overtake us ! " said the Dauphin, laughing. 
 
 " At all events, your Royal Highness, it will 
 not be the first storm which has wet our locks," 
 replied M. de Josselin, in the same lively tone. 
 
 The Duke responded : " Aha ! my friend, 
 you are thinking of the storm which greeted 
 us as we entered Rouen, and washed away all 
 the arches erected in our honor! Well, in- 
 deed that storm was by no means to be re- 
 gretted, for it decently relieved us from all the 
 ceremonies and harangues awaiting our ar- 
 rival. Happy men, to be delivered from such 
 wearisome displays ! " 
 
 The young men continued their conversation 
 in the same strain, while the coachman encour- 
 aged his steeds to increase their speed, and the 
 two huntsmen on the back seat of the carriage 
 drew their cloaks closely round them, to protect 
 themselves from the cold wind, now blowing 
 quite freshly. 
 
 The rain still delayed, and all seemed pro- 
 pitious to an escape from the storm, when 
 
A TRUE STORY. 
 
 165 
 
 suddenly the vehicle slipped to one side, and 
 a loud crack warned the travellers that some- 
 thing was amiss. The Prince sprang out, 
 followed by Josselin and the huntsmen. A 
 moment later, the carriage fell on its side. 
 The Prince himself examined into the cause 
 of the overthrow, and found that a pin had 
 broken which it would require but a few mo- 
 ments to have repaired. His dark eye glanced 
 rapidly over the surrounding country, and per- 
 ceiving a small village at a short distance, he 
 gave orders to drive the carriage very slowly 
 thither in search of a wheelwright. He fol- 
 lowed on foot, accompanied by his aide-de- 
 camp and the two Huntsmen. A sharp wind 
 whistled through the grain-fields, and the heavy 
 golden ears bowed their graceful heads before 
 the blast. The sound was like the murmuring 
 of many waves, and one might have fancied 
 one's self near the majestic Garonne, which 
 here winds for so many miles between the 
 most blooming and luxuriant banks. 
 
 The Duke of Orleans was very lively; he 
 jested with his companion over their little 
 adventure, and it almost seemed as if he pre- 
 
166 
 
 THE DEAR RECKONING. 
 
 ferred meeting the storm under the open vault 
 of heaven, for he walked very leisurely, so that 
 the carriage was nearly ready by the time he 
 reached the village. 
 
 The wheelwright was a very simple-hearted, 
 good-natured man, whom zeal in the discharge 
 of his professional duties had at that moment 
 rendered very red in the face, — a redness 
 which would not have at all diminished had 
 he known what noble guests were approach- 
 ing his dwelling. 
 
 Near the door sat the wheelwright's wife, 
 spinning. Her well-worn, faded clothing 
 showed that her husband's business was not 
 very lucrative in the little village, through 
 which few travellers passed, and where his 
 services were but seldom needed. By her 
 side sat a young girl, whose countenance 
 seemed darkened by some sorrow, and who 
 retired as the gentlemen approached. 
 
 The young Duke courteously saluted the old 
 woman, and sought by opening a conversation 
 with her to shorten the time which still re- 
 mained, as the wheelwright continued to ham- 
 mer busily and noisily on. 
 
A TRUE STORY. 
 
 167 
 
 Dame Jaqueline became very talkative and 
 confidential ; the Duke was highly amused 
 with her volubility, and while Josselin went 
 to overlook the wheelwright, Ferdinand asked : 
 " Was the pretty blonde maiden your daughter, 
 my good woman ? " 
 
 " No sir, my niece ; her name is Juliet, and 
 she is a poor orphan, but a good and gentle 
 girl ; our priest says she is the best child in 
 the parish." 
 
 " Why, then, does she seem so sad ? " 
 
 The old woman looked important, and re- 
 plied mysteriously : " Do you see that tall, 
 proud-looking man who is now standing by 
 my Frank ? " 
 
 The Duke looked up, and saw a figure 
 standing near the wheelwright which im- 
 pressed him very unfavorably ; it was that 
 of a tall, thin man, whose face had a most 
 arrogant and disdainful expression. The 
 stranger's short nose stood high in the air, 
 and his lips were scornfully curled, as if he 
 jfancied himself better than all the rest of 
 the world. He met the Prince's glance with 
 an air of superciliousness which plainly showed 
 
168 
 
 THE DEAR RECKONING. 
 
 the little regard he felt for a fellow human be- 
 ing. Of course he did not divine the young 
 man's rank, as Ferdinand was plainly dressed, 
 and without orders or decorations of any kind. 
 
 The old woman continued : " You see, dear 
 sir, the man is an innkeeper in the next town ; 
 indeed, to look at him, you would think him 
 at least a prince or a duke, he is so haughty." 
 
 Ferdinand laughed heartily at this remark, 
 and the dame proceeded : " Mr. Bertram — .that 
 is his name — has a son, Harry, who is as good 
 and friendly as his father is the contrary, for he 
 most fortunately resembles his mother, who 
 was a cousin of mine. Now, only think of it ! 
 Harry loves my pretty Juliet, and would will- 
 ingly marry her, for he does not care how poor 
 his bride is. The good young man ! He has 
 brought a great deal of trouble upon his head, 
 for his father is very angry, and has sworn that 
 his son shall marry no maiden who cannot 
 bring him a dowry of at least two thousand 
 francs. Only think of that, sir, two thousand 
 francs ! And if my husband were to work day 
 and night, and I were to spin as long, we could 
 never earn so much, no matter how tenderly 
 
A TRUE STORY. 
 
 169 
 
 we loved our dear Juliet, or how her tears 
 grieved us ; for since that harsh determination 
 she has become very pale and sickly, and so 
 has Harry." 
 
 Duke Ferdinand listened attentively, and 
 asked : " What is the name of the town where 
 Bertram keeps his inn ? " 
 
 " L s, dear sir ; it lies on the main road, 
 
 about a half-mile from here; you must pass 
 through it on your way to Bordeaux." 
 
 " And what does he call his inn ? " 
 
 " The Golden Fox." 
 
 " But how comes it that the old fox is here 
 now, when he must surely be angry with you 
 all ? " asked the Duke. 
 
 " O he certainly never would have come here 
 had he not been forced, by an accident very 
 much like yours, to apply to my old Frank for 
 assistance." 
 
 Juliet again entered the room; her appear- 
 ance gave evidence of the truth of her aunt's 
 account; she looked mild and good, but her 
 dark eyes were very sorrowful. The Duke 
 begged her for a glass of water, and she has- 
 tened out to bring it. 
 
170 
 
 THE DEAR RECKONING. 
 
 When she returned, he asked her many ques- 
 tions, to which she gave modest and sensible 
 answers; but she soon left him, taking with 
 her the spinning-wheel, which could no longer 
 be safely left out of doors, as the rain seemed 
 now very near. 
 
 The wheelwright had meanwhile finished 
 his work, and the Duke's carriage was again 
 ready for use. When M. de Josselin offered 
 to pay him, the honest old man asked such an 
 incredibly small sum that the young baron 
 laughed, and said : u But indeed we cannot 
 pay you so small a sum as two francs, we 
 have not the change with us ; reckon it up 
 again, my good old fellow, your labor is cer- 
 tainly worth more than two francs." 
 
 The honest man was quite astonished at the 
 young gentleman's generosity, but he never- 
 theless conscientiously replied : " Sir, although 
 I am very poor and sorely in want of money, 
 yet I must tell the truth, and I am quite sure 
 that two francs is quite enough for all I have 
 done." 
 
 " My good friend, you must reconsider the 
 matter," said Josselin, good-naturedly, " and 
 
A TRUE STORY. 
 
 171 
 
 yon must make out another account ; ' you 
 may safely do so, for the gentleman is rich, 
 and I tell you in confidence that he is — a 
 prince." 
 
 Old Frank and the landlord of the Golden 
 Fox, who stood near, listening, opened their 
 eyes, and made a profusion of bows. Frank 
 suffered himself to be persuaded, and after the 
 lapse of a few moments, Josselin, making a 
 great effort to repress his laughter, gave his 
 lord the following remarkable account, the re- 
 sult of Frank's efforts : — 
 
 1 . To mending one carridge for his Hiness . . 2 francs. 
 
 2. To creeping twice under the carridge ... 3 " 
 
 3. To creeping out again 2 " 
 
 4. To one terribel nock on the head .... 3 " 
 
 Total, 10 francs. 
 In spite of Frank's masterly system of reck- 
 oning, he could think of nothing more to be 
 added to the account. Duke Ferdinand paid 
 the sum twice over, carefully placed the bill 
 in his pocket-book, that he might at some 
 other time fully enjoy its originality, then 
 sprang into his carriage, waved a friendly 
 adieu to the old woman and Juliet, who stood 
 
172 
 
 THE DEAR RECKONING. 
 
 at the window, and cried out in a loud tone to 
 
 his coachman : " Drive to L s as fast as 
 
 you can, and stop at the Golden Fox ; I will 
 remain there all night. I hear the Fox gives 
 excellent lodgings ! " 
 
 I wish, my dear young reader, you could 
 have seen Bertram ; he was perfectly electri- 
 fied at the thought that a noble prince, whose 
 generosity he had just witnessed, was about to 
 honor his dwelling with his presence ; the ava- 
 ricious old fellow was delighted. 
 
 Bertram's simple vehicle was soon in readi- 
 ness, and he hastened homeward in order to 
 greet his noble guest as speedily as possible. 
 
 On the way he considered how he could 
 turn the generous prince's visit to the best 
 account, and muttered to himself, with a very 
 self-confident air, " At all events, I understand 
 the picking of a golden bird much better than 
 that old fool of a Frank!" 
 
 The Prince's equipage, meanwhile, flew like 
 an arrow over the plain ; the black horses 
 scarcely touched the ground with their hoofs, 
 and the towers of L s were soon in view. 
 
 But the storm now burst upon them in all 
 
A TRUE STORY. 
 
 173 
 
 its fury ; the lightning darted like fiery serpents 
 amid the black clouds which covered the even- 
 ing sky ; the thunder roared and rattled, while 
 the rain poured in torrents, and the wind blew 
 as if old Boreas himself were out for a holi- 
 day. 
 
 M. de Josselin closed the carriage windows ; 
 the huntsmen drew their cloaks still more 
 closely about them, and the coachman strove 
 with voice and whip to give wings to his tired 
 steeds. 
 
 The city gate was finally reached ; near the 
 entrance was seen a brilliant sign hanging over 
 a large door ; it represented a great golden fox 
 with a bushy tail and a fine pair of ears ; the 
 whole was evidently the production of a bold 
 pencil, for the paint on the fox's golden fleece 
 was at least an inch thick. 
 
 u Here we are ! " cried the Duke, gayly leap- 
 ing out of the carriage. 
 
 His companions followed. 
 
 A young man of agreeable appearance and 
 handsome countenance stood in the door-way. 
 He gave the strangers a polite welcome, and 
 led them up a creaking stairway into the best 
 
174 
 
 THE DEAR RECKONING. 
 
 chamber in the house, for he at once recognized 
 the travellers as persons of rank. 
 
 The Duke took possession of a pretty little 
 room, simply furnished, but very clean and 
 neat ; its only ornament was a vase of fresh 
 flowers standing on the window-sill. 
 
 " Are you the host ? " asked the Duke, in 
 those winning tones which in after times won 
 him so many hearts. 
 
 " I am his son, gracious sir," replied the 
 young man. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Harry Bertram ! " 
 
 " Do you know my name, sir ? " cried Har- 
 ry, astonished. 
 
 " Certainly, my friend, and it is fortunate 
 that I met you, for I bear you a greeting." 
 
 Harry laughed incredulously, and stam- 
 mered : " I really do not know, sir, who — " 
 
 " The greeting was confided to my keeping 
 by the pretty lips of a fan young maiden ; 
 come, come, Harry, you need not blush so ! 
 Juliet sent you a greeting, and also bids you 
 hope, for all will yet be well. I do not know 
 exactly what she meant," added the Duke, 
 with an innocent ah*, " but it will nevertheless 
 
A TRUE STORY. 
 
 175 
 
 be very prudent to follow her advice, for hope 
 is a friendly star in every trouble ; God him- 
 self has placed it in our souls, to guide us 
 through the darkness of human woes. Fol- 
 low Juliet's advice ; you wall find it to your 
 advantage." 
 
 Harry did not know exactly how it was, but 
 the handsome strangers speech made a won- 
 derful impression on him, and his countenance, 
 usually so melancholy, became quite serene, 
 and even joyful. 
 
 Meanwhile old Bertram arrived, wet to the 
 skin, and without his wig, which the wind had 
 blown far away, out of his reach. He had no 
 time, however, to indulge in any manifesta- 
 tions of ill-temper ; he was too highly en- 
 chanted to find the noble strangers really 
 lodged in his inn, and too busy in donning 
 his Sunday suit and in issuing various orders, 
 to remember the inconveniences he had en- 
 dured. He did the honors of his house with 
 innumerable bows and fine speeches, and wea- 
 ried the Duke's patience with the silliest non- 
 sense he had ever listened to. 
 
 The landlord was quite provoked when the 
 
176 
 
 THE DEAR RECKONING. 
 
 prince ordered a simple cup of tea for his sup- 
 per ; the old fellow could not exactly see how 
 he was to derive any very great advantage 
 from all he could decently charge for such 
 ordinary fare. 
 
 And yet he was determined that some mon- 
 strous, some unheard-of advantage must be 
 the consequence of so rare a visit. 
 
 Early on the following morning, the Duke's 
 carriage stood before the door, the sun shone 
 out clear and warm, and every trace of the 
 storm had vanished. The young Duke was 
 ready to depart ; and only waited for his bill. 
 
 Old Bertram entered, with his customary 
 salutations to the great ; his son followed with 
 an embarrassed air, and remained standing in 
 the door-way : he divined that his father was 
 about to play some rascally trick. 
 
 The Duke unfolded the account, and al- 
 though he was accustomed to the most ex- 
 travagant charges, he had never before seen 
 anything like this ; for mine host of the Gold- 
 en Fox had reckoned his night's lodging, sup- 
 per, etc. at five hundred francs. 
 
 Duke Ferdinand said nothing, but, quietly 
 
A TRUE STORY. 177 
 
 taking the purse from the hand of Josselin, 
 who was usually the paymaster, he counted 
 out upon the round oak-table long rows of 
 shining gold pieces, far exceeding in value the 
 sum demanded of him. 
 
 " Will you ask the Mayor of the city to step 
 here an instant ? " said he to Harry, without, 
 however, interrupting his occupation. " I have 
 something to say to him ? " 
 
 Harry hastily left the room. 
 
 The Duke counted and counted, the sum 
 grew larger and larger, and the embarrassment 
 of the old man, who could not conceive what 
 his illustrious guest intended to do with such^ 
 a heap of gold, increased proportionally. 
 
 After the lapse of about fifteen minutes, 
 Harry entered with the Mayor, who bowed 
 deeply. 
 
 The Duke assumed an air of command, and 
 said : " You will receive from us, Sir Mayor, 
 the sum of two thousand francs, which is des- 
 tined for the dowry of a poor maiden belong- 
 ing to this parish, if she will consent to fulfil 
 the only condition we shall name : the money 
 
 is hers, but she must pay out of it to Julian 
 12 
 
178 THE DEAR RECKONING. 
 
 Bertram, landlord of the Golden Fox, the ex- 
 penses of four persons for one night's lodging. 
 Count them up yourself, Mayor, the utmost 
 that beds and supper for four very moderate 
 men can amount to, and then deduct the sum 
 — from twelve to fourteen francs — from this 
 pile of gold, and give it to our worthy host of 
 the Fox. Such, sir, is the will of Ferdinand 
 of Orleans ! " 
 
 Bertram felt as if he could sink into the 
 earth with shame. The Mayor bowed, and 
 respectfully asked : " Will your Highness have 
 the kindness to mention the name of the 
 4 fortunate maiden who is to receive so rich a 
 gift at your royal hand ? " 
 
 " Certainly, Mayor ; the maiden is good, 
 pretty, and industrious ; her name is Juliet 
 
 D , and she is the niece of a wheelwright 
 
 in the nearest village. If you wish to know 
 more, you must ask Mr. Harry Bertram ; his 
 beaming eyes will tell you that he is well ac- 
 quainted with the pretty bride and the happy 
 groom. I hope there may be no further ob- 
 stacle in the way of the happy couple, for 
 they now stand under my own especial pro- 
 tection." 
 
A TRUE STORY. 
 
 179 
 
 Harry could scarcely find words to express 
 his fervent gratitude, while the old man sought 
 a refuge from his confusion in a hasty retreat. 
 
 The Duke escaped all further thanks by 
 leaping into his carriage, and giving orders to 
 drive off at once. His parting salutation was 
 most gracious and friendly. The two reck- 
 onings, honest Frank's and the disappointed 
 landlord's, afforded the Prince and his com- 
 panion infinite entertainment during the re- 
 mainder of their journey, and were never after- 
 wards recalled to memory without awakening 
 the most lively and amusing recollections. 
 
 The Mayor paid the angry landlord fourteen, 
 francs. Harry and Juliet were soon after mar- 
 ried, and were as happy as the good prince 
 could wish them. 
 
 Whether old Bertram ever again asked five 
 hundred francs for tea and a night's lodging, 
 is unknown to me, but I doubt it very much ; 
 for after the scene we have just described, 
 which soon became known to every man, 
 woman, and child in the town, it was long 
 before he dared to venture into the streets un- 
 til after nightfall, because all the boys mocked 
 
180 
 
 THE DEAR RECKONING. 
 
 and derided him ; they even came daily and 
 sang the following song under his window : — 
 
 " Golden Fox, 
 
 Sly old Fox, 
 
 Were you bit, 
 
 "Were you hit, 
 When you got, for tea and bed, 
 Only fourteen francs a bead ? 
 Far too little, hero bold ! 
 Vain your tricks : the seller 's sold ! " 
 
FILIAL LOYE. 
 
 A LEGEND. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE OFFER. 
 
 It was a warm, sunshiny day in the month 
 of June. Near a little village among the hills 
 stood a wade-spreading linden, under which the 
 village youth were dancing and otherwise 
 amusing themselves, for it was a holiday. 
 The shrill tones of the bagpipe mingled with 
 the rich, full notes of the bugle ; but the young 
 people cared little for the discordant sounds, 
 and danced merrily on. 
 
 Some fifty paces from the gay company, 
 and apart from the remaining houses in the 
 village, stood a small cottage. It was sur- 
 rounded by a little garden, and before the door 
 was a white-pine bench, over which waved a 
 blooming acacia, making a kind of arbor. On 
 the bench sat a tolerably stout-looking man, 
 
184 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 unoccupied, and apparently an unsympathiz- 
 ing spectator of all that was passing around 
 him. But alas ! the poor man could see noth- 
 ing, for he had lost the use of his eyes, and sat 
 absorbed in the melancholy consideration of 
 the misfortune which had rendered him as 
 helpless as a child. On a stool at his feet sat 
 a little girl of about thirteen years of age. She 
 was sewing, but from time to time laid her 
 work aside and stroked the. blind man's hand. 
 Finally she asked, in low and gentle tones: 
 " Are you well protected, father, from the sun's 
 hot rays ? " 
 
 " I am very comfortable, Erna ! " replied he. 
 But after a short pause he added, somewhat 
 bitterly : " Do you hear the music ? Child, go 
 down and dance with the others. You should 
 be where youth and joy prevail. I will not de- 
 prive you of every pleasure in life ; it is enough 
 that I must renounce them all." 
 
 " Let me stay with you, father," said the 
 child, caressingly ; " I do not care to dance." 
 
 " But you used to care for it, and you only 
 remain here on my account," replied he, has- 
 tily. " Go ; I will not have the people saying 
 
THE OFFER. 
 
 185 
 
 that my misfortune has deprived you of every 
 youthful enjoyment!" 
 
 " O father, no one says that ! " continued 
 she, imploringly. 1 " I would go, but I am sure 
 I should find no pleasure there, for my friend 
 Minnie is absent." 
 
 " Where is she then ? " 
 
 " She has gone with her father among the 
 hills in search of an herb which only springs 
 up on St. John's day, and soon after sinks 
 back into the earth. Her mother needs the 
 herb, for it is said to bring sleep, and Minnie's 
 mother has been able to sleep but very little 
 since she lost her infant boy." 
 
 Berthold sighed and said : " Her case is like 
 mine, in so far that I too enjoy but very little 
 repose; but lead me in, Erna, the ah* grows 
 cool!" 
 
 The child carefully guided her father into 
 the tiny sitting-room, whose windows were 
 wreathed with grape-vines and ivy. He seated 
 himself in a deep arm-chair, called his little 
 dog to his side, and said in gentler tones: 
 " Bring me my broth, child ! " 
 
 Erna hastened out, and soon returned with 
 
186 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 the nourishing food. When the blind man 
 had satisfied his hunger, he took his daugh- 
 ter's hand and said : " Do not be vexed, my 
 child, when I sometimes seem hasty, and even 
 unkind, towards you ; my misfortune always 
 appears to me so unutterably heavy when I 
 hear the others rejoicing, and know that my 
 whole life must be passed in idleness and pri- 
 vation." 
 
 " O, all may yet be well," said Erna, consol- 
 ingly ; " nothing is impossible to God ! " 
 
 " Leave me now, child ; I am tired, and wish 
 to sleep a little." 
 
 Erna stepped to the front door, and looked 
 out over the landscape. The sun had gone 
 down, and all was still except the solemn toll- 
 ing of the evening bells. Erna folded her 
 hands, and fervently prayed to God that he 
 would restore her father's sight. 
 
 When she had concluded, she looked up and 
 saw a man and a young girl descending the 
 hills ; the girl waved her handkerchief, and has- 
 tened towards the cottage. 
 
 " Is it you, Minnie ? and did you find the 
 herb?" 
 
THE OFFER. 
 
 187 
 
 " Certainly ; do you not see the dark-blue 
 blossoms ? " replied Minnie. " I will make a 
 tea of them which will quiet mother's nerves, 
 so that she may again sleep soundly as be- 
 fore." 
 
 " I will go up the hili early to-morrow morn- 
 ing," said Erna; "my father also desires such 
 a plant. Tell me, are they hard to find ? " 
 
 " O yes ! we had nearly given up all hope of 
 finding any, when I suddenly saw this one 
 growing by the stone bridge ; but only this 
 one, and I know not if there be any more." 
 
 " O, if I only thought I could find one now," 
 cried Erna, " I would go and return before my 
 father awakes." 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself," replied Minnie, 
 good-naturedly, " I will stay with your father, 
 and will lead him about everywhere ; he likes 
 me, and I will remain until you return." 
 
 " Will you promise me that ? " 
 I here pledge you my hand that I will re- 
 main months, if necessary ! " continued Min- 
 nie, laughing. 
 
 " That would indeed be a strange neces- 
 sity," thought Erna, who then continued 
 
188 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 aloud : " You know where to find bread and 
 coffee ; and if I should really have trouble in 
 finding the plant, and should not return until 
 after midday, you must set the oatmeal and 
 the remains of the mutton over the fire." 
 
 " I will willingly do so, have no fear. But 
 now I must hurry home, for father, who went 
 by the footpath, will have told of our success, 
 and mother will be anxious to see me." 
 
 The friends parted, and Erna re-entered the 
 house. 
 
 Early the next morning she was ready to 
 set out on her journey ; she filled her little 
 pocket with bread and fruit, and courageously 
 departed for the stone bridge. Nearly all the 
 villagers were still asleep, but the sun rose 
 early, and his steady beams illumined the path 
 of the solitary child. 
 
 Bright dew-drops shone upon the grasses 
 and flowers, and the larks sang so gayly that 
 even Erna felt quite joyous, and hastened on 
 her way warbling a little song. She soon 
 reached the stone bridge, and busily began her 
 search, but in vain ; no plant with green leaves 
 and dark-blue blossoms met her view. After 
 
THE OFFER. 
 
 189 
 
 the lapse of several hours, she sat down upon 
 the grass, and drew forth her little slice of 
 bread. At that moment, Erna saw an old 
 woman leaning on a crutch, coming towards 
 her; the ancient dame seemed to walk with 
 considerable difficulty, and, when quite near 
 Erna, stopped and said : " Will you give me 
 a piece of your bread, child ? " 
 
 ' ; Willingly," replied Erna, dividing her 
 bread into two equal portions, of which she 
 gave one to the stranger, saying : u I wish I 
 could give you more, but I shall probably be 
 obliged to remain here myself until evening." 
 
 " And why so ? " asked the old woman, com- 
 fortably seating herself upon the grass, and 
 eating her bread with evident appetite. 
 
 " O, I am looking for the blue-flowered St. 
 John's-wort." 
 
 " Which people say brings sleep ? " 
 
 " Yes, my good woman." 
 
 " And for whom then ? " 
 
 " For my poor, unhappy father, who has lost 
 his eyesight." 
 
 " But, child, the plant will not restore his 
 sight." 
 
190 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 " O, I know that but too well. Indeed, if 
 I could find anything possessing that power, 
 I would go to the end of the world for it, 
 even if I had to leave my life behind." 
 
 " You seem to be a good daughter ; but it is 
 easier to talk of dying than to do so in reality." 
 
 " Nevertheless, I think I would not shun the 
 most severe trials, if I could only render my 
 dear father happy and well again ! " 
 
 The old woman rose and said : " Come 
 with me, child, and I will help you to find 
 the St. John's-wort." 
 
 Erna followed the crippled dame, who made 
 her way through bushes and brambles, care- 
 fully searching on all sides, until at length she 
 suddenly cried : " There is one ! Do you see 
 it, child ? Stoop down and gather it ! " 
 
 Erna bent down towards the plant , but as 
 she was eagerly grasping it, the old woman 
 laid her hand upon the child's head and mur- 
 mured a few unintelligible words. 
 
 Erna looked up bewildered, her eyelids 
 drooped, and she fell into a deep sleep. 
 
 The old woman clapped her hands three 
 times, the earth opened at her feet, and a 
 
THE OFFER. 
 
 191 
 
 snow-white bed, hung round with wreaths of 
 roses, ascended through the cleft. Two elves 
 with rose-colored wings followed, and ap- 
 proached the sleeping Erna. 
 
 " Lift the child gently, and bear her to my 
 kingdom," said the old woman, again clapping 
 her hands. Then her own gray dress and 
 ugly mask fell to the ground, and a lovely 
 lady in a robe of silver gauze, with a branch of 
 lilies in her hand, stood upon the grassy bank. 
 
 She stepped to the head of the bed on 
 which Erna lay sleeping, the two elves knelt 
 at her feet ; she lifted her lily wand, a faint 
 strain of sweet music floated through the air, 
 and all rose softly towards the clouds. 
 
 When Erna awoke, she was so surprised at 
 all around her that she rubbed her eyes in as- 
 tonishment, and fancied she must be dreaming. 
 She still lay upon the snow-white bed, over 
 which waved a canopy of lilies, roses, and 
 hyacinths. Among the branches flitted beau- 
 tiful birds, whose songs were so charming that 
 Erna was enraptured, and folded her hands to 
 listen. The warbling of the birds was ac- 
 
192 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 companied by the harmonious tinkling of in- 
 numerable little silver bells half hidden among 
 the leaves. 
 
 " O heavens ! where can I be ? " cried Erna, 
 half rising from the bed. 
 
 The blooming branches parted, and the 
 fairy queen entered, saying with a gentle voice 
 to the astonished maiden : " I am the queen of 
 the fairies, and I have long watched over you. 
 I saw the care and love which you bestowed 
 upon your poor father, and heard the fervent 
 prayer which you addressed to Heaven. Only 
 a few hours since, I heard you say that no 
 sacrifice would be too great to offer for the 
 restoration of your father's sight, and that you 
 would even be willing to lay down your life for 
 him. Is this indeed true ? " 
 
 " O gracious queen ! " cried Erna, sinking 
 upon her knees, " tell me, is there any possi- 
 bility of aiding him ? " 
 
 " There is one thing, my child, which would 
 avail ; but however great my power may be, I 
 cannot procure it for you ; it can only be won 
 through sacrifice and self-denial. Tell me, do 
 you feel strong enough to suffer everything ? " 
 
THE OFFER. 
 
 193 
 
 " Everything, if I alone am to suffer ! " cried 
 Erna. 
 
 " You alone," replied the fairy ; " and my 
 aid will not be wanting if you show yourself 
 worthy of it. Listen then. There is a place 
 which I may not name to you, a narrow valley 
 amid the hills, containing a beautiful fountain 
 springing from a marble basin ; the water is of 
 a bright rose-color, and a few drops suffice to 
 restore sight to the blind. I will give you a 
 guide to lead you to the valley ; but the dis- 
 tance is very great, and you will meet with 
 many difficulties : faith and courage alone can 
 overcome them. Here is a little silver tablet 
 covered with spots of rust and verdigris. At 
 the end of each day during which you have 
 been good and obedient, some of the spots 
 will pass away, and every good thought will 
 aid in rendering the silver tablet clearer and 
 brighter. But, on the other hand, every ex- 
 pression of ill-temper or anger, of impatience 
 or selfishness, will add new and darker stains, 
 as will also all tears springing not from the pure 
 sources of love, longing, or compassion. When 
 the last spot has vanished, you will be at your 
 
 13 
 
194 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 journey's end; but no power can bring you 
 there before, and the way back is very easy." 
 
 " O, I will willingly go ! " cried Erna. " God 
 will protect me ! But who will take care of 
 my dear father ? " 
 
 " Minnie has promised you to remain 
 months, if necessary. It is true the promise 
 was made in jest, but it will not be the less 
 truly kept. I will myself seek to console your 
 father for your absence. My elves will now 
 show you the glories of my kingdom ; but 
 when you lie down to rest this evening, you 
 must take leave of all the beauty you have 
 seen, for you will awake to-morrow morning 
 again upon the earth, and in the exact spot 
 where you went to sleep. You must then 
 cross to the other side of the hill, whither my 
 messenger will guide you." 
 
 Erna fell upon her knees and thankfully 
 kissed the fairy-queen's hand. The good 
 elf graciously raised her and said : " Do not 
 thank me too soon ! You are not yet at the 
 goal ; the way is long, and the sacrifices great ; 
 if you fail, and lose your patience or endur- 
 ance, no one can aid you. But now you 
 must survey my kingdom." 
 
THE OFFER. 
 
 195 
 
 She took Erna's hand and led her from the 
 bower. 
 
 A cry of delight escaped the child's lips as 
 her eyes fell upon the beauty around her. The 
 little paths leading through the groves and 
 gardens were all strewed with gold-dust min- 
 gled with diamonds. The fruits on the trees 
 were partially such as Erna had never before 
 seen, such as figs, bananas, oranges, and pome- 
 granates, and partially of colored crystal and 
 precious stones. 
 
 Parrots with bright top-knots and pleasant 
 voices (unlike those of ordinary parrots) flitted 
 from branch to branch. Humming-birds of all 
 colors stretched out their little necks and long 
 bills inquiringly toward the birds of paradise 
 sitting on the tree-tops, and filling the whole 
 air with melodious songs. Little grottos, with 
 crystal walls and mossy' floors, offered quiet 
 and cool retreats, while sparkling fountains, 
 pouring from white marble basins, bathed the 
 feet of innumerable singing birds which were 
 sporting about the clear and shining waters. 
 
 " Does it please you ? " asked the good-na- 
 tured fairy, smiling at Erna's wonder. 
 
196 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 The child scarcely ventured to breathe, fear- 
 ing to lose any of the marvellous sights which 
 met her delighted gaze. 
 
 " You may go and taste the fruit, and fill 
 your pockets with it, in return for the bread you 
 gave me when you took me for an old woman." 
 
 Erna did as she was bidden ; and when she 
 had satisfied her hunger and filled her pockets, 
 they continued their way. 
 
 They came at length to a smooth, green 
 lawn, encircled by a blooming hedge, emitting 
 a delightful perfume. On the green danced a 
 multitude of fairies, waving wreaths of flowers, 
 and singing gay songs. 
 
 Erna gazed in speechless delight upon their 
 graceful forms, until finally the fairy-queen, 
 taking her by the hand, led her back to the 
 little bower in which she had first awakened 
 in fairy-land. When Erna had laid her down 
 to rest upon the little bed, the fairy said : 
 " Sleep well, my child, we will protect thee ! " 
 She then touched the maiden with her lily 
 wand, and Erna fell into a deep slumber. 
 
 The darkness of night had meanwhile cov- 
 
THE OFFER. 
 
 197 
 
 ered the earth, and Erna's father sat in his 
 little room sorrowing over the prolonged ab- 
 sence of his child. 
 
 " Be consoled, Father Berthold," said Min- 
 nie, taking his hand. " Erna will soon return ; 
 the moon is up, and will enlighten her path- 
 way. The distance is great, and the plant 
 which you desired very hard to find." 
 
 " O, how I wish I had never expressed a de- 
 sire for it ! " groaned the blind man. " Who 
 knows what evil may have befallen my poor 
 child!" 
 
 " Do not fear ; Erna knows the neighbor- 
 hood well, and God always takes care of good 
 children." 
 
 " That is true ! " said Berthold, somewhat 
 consoled. 
 
 " And see ! " continued Minnie gayly ; " it 
 is said that good little fairies dwell on the 
 hill-tops, and they may perhaps aid Erna in 
 finding many precious plants wherewith to 
 surprise you ! " 
 
 " You are a dear, good girl, Minnie ! " said 
 the blind man, smiling; "but now go and bring 
 me my supper." 
 
198 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 Minnie went. Scarcely had she left the 
 room when the walls opened, and light beamed 
 for an instant upon the darkened eyes of the 
 invalid. He saw a lovely figure floating be- 
 fore him, and heard a gentle voice saying: 
 " Wait patiently until Erna returns ! You 
 will see her again, but do not ask when. It 
 is love to you which now parts her from your 
 side." 
 
 A moment after, Berthold's eyes again closed 
 in darkness, but the light had descended into 
 his heart. 
 
 Minnie brought his supper ; the blind man 
 seized her hand, and gently asked : " Will you 
 remain with me, child, until Erna returns ? I 
 have just had news of her, but it will probably 
 be a long time^before she again enters her 
 home." 
 
 Minnie gazed on the blind man in astonish- 
 ment, but asked no questions. After a pause, 
 she said : " J will remain with you ; I promised 
 Erna to do so. My parents have my sisters, 
 and do not need my aid." 
 
 And Minnie remained. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE TRIAL. 
 
 When Erna again opened her eyes, a rosy- 
 streak in the east announced the dawn. She 
 lay on a mossy bank beside the stone bridge 
 where she had on the previous day met the 
 old woman. The child would have thought 
 it all a dream, had it not been for a silver tab- 
 let hanging round her neck. 
 
 Erna rose quickly and said to herself: " Cour- 
 age, then, for there is a way to render my father 
 well and happy. O, where can the guide be 
 which is to lead me to the blessed fountain ? " 
 
 At that moment she heard a faint twitter- 
 ing ; she looked up and perceived a snow- 
 white dove sitting on a neighboring branch. 
 The bird sang: — 
 
200 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 " Follow me ! 
 Day and night 
 Lead I thee, 
 Still aright ! 
 
 " Never fear, 
 For thy friend 
 Will be near, 
 To the end!" 
 
 The dove flew three times round the maid- 
 en's head, and then winged its way to the top 
 of the hill. 
 
 Erna cast a last look toward her home, now 
 brightened by the rays of the morning sun. 
 " Farewell, father ! " whispered she, deeply 
 moved, as she waved a long adieu to her 
 native village. The child turned and followed 
 her guide, which rapidly descended into the 
 opposite valley. 
 
 She passed through green meadows, and 
 luxuriant grain-fields, with pleasant villages 
 on either hand. Towards midday, however, 
 the sun shone down oppressively upon Erna's 
 unprotected head. Tired and hungry, she 
 seated herself upon the grass, and for the first 
 time recollected that she had nothing to eat 
 
ERNA AND THE DOVE 
 
THE TRIAL* 
 
 201 
 
 Remembering the fairy fruit, she put her hand 
 in her pocket, but found nothing but glittering 
 stones. Although she would have much pre- 
 ferred a slice of brown bread, not a word of 
 complaint passed her lips ; on the contrary, 
 she patiently said to herself : " I will rest a 
 moment, and then seek some village, where 
 surely no one will deny me a piece of bread." 
 
 The dove alighted on her shoulder, hid its 
 head under its wing, and slept. 
 
 Both rested thus during a half-hour. Erna 
 then arose, and the dove recommenced its 
 flight. A village was soon reached, the little 
 traveller approached the first house, and begged 
 a woman, who sat in the door-way spinning, 
 for some bread. 
 
 The young woman cheerfully rose, opened a 
 closet, and while she spread a slice of brown 
 bread with fresh butter, said : " Where is your 
 home, little girl ? " 
 
 " On the other side of the hill," replied Erna, 
 receiving the bread with a thankful glance. 
 
 " Poor child ! you must have walked at least 
 nine hours ; do not your feet hurt you ? " 
 
 " O, not much, dear lady! the road is good, 
 and I am strong and healthy." 
 
202 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 " And how far have you yet to go ? " 
 
 " Perhaps very far, and perhaps I may soon 
 be able to return.'' 
 
 " You are then seeking some one ? " 
 
 Erna looked embarrassed, but finally said : 
 " O yes, I seek much ! " 
 
 " God be with you, poor child ! " continued 
 the kind-hearted woman ; " I understand that 
 you cannot or ought not to tell me the aim 
 of your journey, but I see drops of blood on 
 your white stockings ; if your feet are sore, 
 you may come in and remain with us until 
 they are quite well again." 
 
 " I thank you, but I cannot stay ! " said 
 Erna, offering the good woman her little hand. 
 
 The latter wrapped up a few slices of bread 
 and meat, which she placed in the child's 
 pocket, and then accompanied her to the gar- 
 den gate, where they parted. 
 
 " O, I do not get on so badly," thought 
 Erna, rejoiced at this kind reception; but a 
 moment after, she stumbled and nearly fell; 
 her feet were very sore, and burned like fire. 
 
 The dove flew down from its station on a 
 linden, and gently cooed as it led the way. 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 203 
 
 Towards evening, Erna saw a noble castle 
 standing before her, with every pane in the 
 lofty windows gilded by the rays of the setting 
 sun. 
 
 From the castle gate issued a brilliant train 
 of knights and dames on horseback. A beau- 
 tiful lady on a snow-white steed led the pro- 
 cession ; she wore a blue velvet habit, and a 
 cap adorned with feathers and diamonds. 
 
 Erna looked up in amazement, but at the 
 same moment perceived a woman lying in the 
 middle of the road, and in evident danger of 
 being trampled on by the train of riders, as 
 they did not seem to have noticed her. 
 
 Erna knelt at her side, and, lifting her hands 
 imploringly toward the lady, cried : " O help, 
 noble lady ! the poor woman is dying ! " 
 
 " What does the girl want ? " cried the lady 
 to one of the gentlemen. 
 
 The latter said, roughly : " Stand aside, beg- 
 gar ! you are in our way ! " 
 
 Poor Erna strove to lift the peasant-wo- 
 man's heavy body, but in vain; the weight 
 was too great, and her arms fell powerless at 
 her side. 
 
204 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 " Will you get out of the way ? " repeated 
 the horseman. 
 
 " I cannot, sir! Let one of your people dis- 
 mount and aid me to bear away this poor wo- 
 man ; I cannot lift her without assistance." 
 
 The lady laughed aloud, urged her horse for- 
 ward, and came rapidly toward Erna and the 
 still unconscious peasant, 
 
 Erna uttered a loud cry of horror when she 
 saw the whole troop coming down upon her ; 
 she raised her eyes to heaven, extended her 
 arms over the helpless form of the fainting wo- 
 man, and courageously awaited her fate. 
 
 The wild troop came galloping on, but not 
 a single hoof touched the child, who still leaned 
 trembling and exhausted over the peasant- wo- 
 man. When she again raised her eyes, eques- 
 trians, peasant, and castle had all vanished, 
 and she lay upon a grassy bank, with the sun 
 quietly sinking beneath the horizon. 
 
 "It was only a trial!" said she *to herself; 
 and a look upon her silver tablet convinced her 
 that she had well endured the test, for lo ! one 
 side showed a diminished number of stains, 
 and began to look quite bright and shining. 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 205 
 
 It soon became too dark to proceed. Erna 
 could no longer see the dove, and she was be- 
 sides so weary, that she felt rest to be abso- 
 lutely necessary. No village was in sight, not 
 even the faintest light to show the vicinity of 
 a dwelling. 
 
 " I will stay here and try to sleep ! " said the 
 lonely girl to herself ; " the air is mild, and 
 will do me no harm ! " 
 
 When Erna had finished her evening prayer, 
 she fearlessly laid her down to rest, and slept 
 soundly. The dove watched her slumbers for 
 a short time, and then, hiding its little head 
 under its downy wing, followed her example. 
 
 The next morning the sun shone bright and 
 clear upon Erna's mossy couch ; she rose, and 
 was soon ready to proceed. 
 
 Meadows, fields, and villages bordered the 
 way as before, and appeared in endless suc- 
 cession. 
 
 Toward noon, when the heat of the sun had 
 forced Erna to take a little rest, she perceived 
 that the whole sky was rapidly being obscured 
 by heavy, black clouds. A violent wind soon 
 followed, whirling leaves and dust high into 
 
206 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 the air. The birds anxiously sought the shel- 
 ter of their little nests. 
 
 Erna also looked about her for a place of 
 safety, but the nearest village was still a mile 
 distant, and the storm seemed momentarily 
 about to burst upon her defenceless head. 
 
 Erna hurried on ; the faithful dove flew rap- 
 idly before her ; but the village seemed as far 
 distant as ever, although the poor child had 
 long before been able to distinguish its red- 
 tiled roofs amid the green foliage of the trees. 
 
 Great drops of rain fell upon Erna's heated 
 face ; she tied her kerchief over her head and 
 hastened on ; the thunder rolled, and the light- 
 ning flashed through the dark vault of the 
 heavens. Erna gazed sadly and timidly to- 
 ward the place where she had seen the village, 
 but she must have lost her way, for nothing 
 was visible but a dark wood and some deso- 
 late fields. The child cried loudly for help, 
 but no sound save the crashing of the thunder 
 and the whistling of the wind fell upon her 
 ears. She turned to the right, and then to the 
 left, but the red tiles had all vanished. 
 
 The rain poured in torrents ; Erna's clothes 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 207 
 
 were dripping, and her long hair clung to her 
 temples, and fell in wet and clammy masses 
 over her shoulders. She thought she must 
 have been running for hours. 
 
 " Ah ! how comfortable and pleasant must 
 it now be at home ! " thought she. But then 
 the image of her blind father entered her mind, 
 and gave her renewed strength and endurance. 
 
 " But how fortunate it is," continued she to 
 herself, " that I know you, dear, good father, 
 to be safe and sound in our own little house ! 
 Surely, Minnie will take good care of you, and 
 you will know that we are one day to meet 
 again ! " 
 
 She had not uttered one word aloud, but, 
 arresting her fruitless course, she had taken the 
 poor, wet dove into her hands to warm and 
 dry it, when lo ! the little creature, which had 
 not spoken a word since its first song, began 
 to warble : — 
 
 " Take courage, child ! 
 
 The storm is wild, 
 But joy will come at last ! 
 
 And every trace 
 
 Of grief efface, 
 'Mid smiles at dangers past ! " 
 
208 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 " Dear little comforter ! " said Erna, pressing 
 the wonderful bird to her bosom. She then 
 patiently sat down upon the grass to await 
 whatever might befall. 
 
 The storm gradually ceased, the sky became 
 clear, and Erna again perceived the red roofs 
 of the village rising behind a neighboring grove 
 of willows. She joyfully rose, and, approach- 
 ing the first house, knocked gently at the door, 
 for the poor child was tired and hungry, and 
 i her clothes were still dripping with the rain. 
 
 " Who is there ? " asked a harsh voice. 
 
 Erna timidly entered, and found herself in a 
 wide hall, which looked desolate and uninvit- 
 ing. A man of forbidding aspect came to- 
 wards her, and asked her what she wanted. 
 
 " Ah, sir ! I was out in the storm, and have 
 come to ask permission to dry my clothes." 
 
 " Where do you come from, girl ? " asked 
 the man. 
 
 " O, very far from here, good man ; my home 
 is on the other side of the mountain." 
 
 " And what do you want ? " 
 
 " Nothing but a shelter until I can dry my 
 clothes," was the timid answer. " In one hour 
 I must again depart ! " 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 209 
 
 " You are nothing but a worthless vagabond 
 of a beggar ! " cried the man, roughly. " But 
 take care ! I am the constable of the place, and 
 if you dare to repeat your demand to any one 
 else in the village, I will put you into the 
 town-house, and teach you how to beg again. 
 OfT with you ! we have plenty such as you are 
 among us, and need no foreign importations ! " 
 
 " O, I am so tired that I can go no farther' " 
 said Erna, despairingly. 
 
 " Have you a mind to rest in the town-house, 
 hey ? " angrily cried the man 
 
 Erna stretched out her hands imploringly, 
 but in vain; she was forced to continue her 
 journey without bread and without rest. 
 
 As she came near the end of the village, 
 she saw a young girl sitting and sewing in 
 an open door-way. She was singing a lullaby, 
 and at the same time rocking a cradle with 
 her foot. On the lower limb of a fruit-tree 
 growing near the house sat a boy of about 
 six years old, who was gathering pears. Every 
 now and then he would attract his sister's 
 attention by throwing a pear at her feet, when 
 she would look up and playfully threaten him 
 
 14 
 
210 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 with her finger, "a gesture which seemed to 
 afford the lively boy endless amusement. 
 
 Erna stood a few moments gazing upon this 
 charming scene, and then, raising her hands, 
 held them out beseechingly towards the kind- 
 looking little girl. 
 
 " What is the matter, poor child ? " com- 
 passionately asked the girl. " Your clothes 
 are all wet, and you look pale and weary ! " 
 
 " Ah, I am very tired ! " cried Erna. " O, be 
 pitiful, and grant me a few moments' rest and 
 a little bread ! I will not trouble you long." 
 
 " Come here, child! I will give you some- 
 thing to eat, and while I dry your clothes at 
 the fire, you can put on a suit of mine, which 
 it is true will be rather long and loose for 
 you, but never mind that!" 
 
 The proposition was at once accepted. 
 The kind girl, whose name was Hannah, 
 dressed Erna in a green woollen gown and 
 a crimson apron, and then, hanging the wet 
 garments before the fire, said : " You look 
 lovely now, and while your broth is cooking, 
 we will go to the door and rock Johnny, for 
 you must know that my parents are absent 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 211 
 
 to-day, and have left me to keep house. 
 Christopher," cried she to the little pear-gath- 
 erer, "come down and bring father's arm- 
 chair out here for the little girl to sit in ; the 
 sun is still warm, and Erna can rest herself in 
 the door-way with us." 
 
 " O how good you are, Hannah ! " cried 
 Erna, gratefully. 
 
 The chair was brought, the tired child 
 rested her weary limbs upon the soft cushions, 
 and eagerly ate the savory broth and smoking 
 potatoes which were soon placed before her. 
 
 Christopher, who had meanwhile been ex- 
 amining Erna intently, finally produced a little 
 basket of pears, and said : " Put some in your 
 pocket and take them with you ; Christopher 
 will willingly give them to you." 
 
 He therefore turned her pockets upside 
 down, and lo! the stone fruits rolled out. 
 
 " O, what pretty glass ! " cried the brother 
 and sister. 
 
 Erna took a fig made of some dark-blue 
 stone, and, giving it to Hannah, said : " Take 
 this in return for the kindness you have be- 
 stowed upon me." 
 
212 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 " O, do not speak of that ! " said Hannah ; 
 " I only did what every one should do to a 
 fellow-creature ! " 
 
 " Well, then, keep it as a remembrance from 
 me ! " begged Erna. 
 
 " O yes, I will willingly do that ! " 
 
 " And if you should ever be in want," con- 
 tinued Erna, "you must try to sell it, for I 
 believe it to be worth more than either of us 
 comprehend." 
 
 Hannah laughed incredulously, but said 
 nothing, and placed the blue fig in a little 
 box in which she kept all her treasures, — a 
 chain with a silver locket, and a black-mo- 
 rocco prayer-book. 
 
 Johnny then awoke, and making friends 
 with Erna, who took him in her arms, gayly 
 laughed as she danced him up and down. 
 Erna by this time felt perfectly at home, and 
 had almost forgotten her journey, when the 
 village-clock struck five. She quickly rose, laid 
 Johnny in his cradle, offered Hannah her hand, 
 and said : " Farewell ! God bless .you for the 
 refreshment which . you have bestowed upon 
 me!" 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 213 
 
 " O, do not go yet ! " begged Hannah ; " the 
 storm may return during the night, and you 
 will then be alone and without shelter." 
 
 Erna hesitated ; she thought of all the hard- 
 ships and anxiety she had endured during the 
 morning, but the image of her blind father 
 rose in her mind and encouraged her to pro- 
 ceed, for she could still make use of the re- 
 maining hours of the day in pursuing her 
 journey, and thus shorten the time necessary 
 for the attainment of her object. 
 
 " I must go, dear Hannah ; but I will visit 
 you on my return, and perhaps beg your good 
 mother for a night's lodging ! " 
 
 " Do so," replied Hannah, who quickly wrap- 
 ped up a little parcel of bread and cheese, 
 which she placed in Erna's pocket, and then 
 took as tender a leave of her new friend as if 
 they had known each other for years. Chris- 
 topher loaded Erna with as many pears as 
 she could carry, and accompanied her to the 
 limits of the village. 
 
 Erna felt quite refreshed, and walked on 
 during several hours ; for the days in that 
 latitude are very long in June. 
 
214 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 Late in the evening she reached a little 
 town, whose usually quiet streets were en- 
 livened by the presence of many strangers, 
 attracted thither by the annual fair, and by 
 the innumerable booths which had been 
 erected for the display of gay stuffs, kerchiefs, 
 ribbons, cakes, candies, &c. 
 
 Erna found much difficulty in making her 
 way through the crowd, until she finally stop- 
 ped before a shop where handsomely dressed 
 dolls and other toys were exposed for sale. 
 
 She looked without envy upon the children 
 who were issuing from the gay store, with 
 their hands full of presents bestowed on them 
 by their parents ; she rejoiced in their bright 
 faces and joyful demeanor. 
 
 "What is the child gaping at?" suddenly 
 asked the store-keeper, a tall, thin man, with 
 a sharp voice. 
 
 Erna blushed, and turned to depart. 
 
 a What ! not even an answer ? " cried the 
 man, seizing her by the shoulder. " Is that 
 a proper way for such a chit to treat an old 
 man ? " 
 
 " I did not know what to say," replied 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 215 
 
 Erna, " and as my standing here seemed to 
 annoy you, I concluded to go away ! " 
 
 " Concluded to go away ! Just listen to the 
 saucy little thing ! How she talks ! One may 
 endure such behavior from a lady, but by no 
 means from such a little tattered beggar-girl ! " 
 
 Erna looked sadly down upon her clothes. 
 The man was right ; she did look forlorn, for 
 the brambles through which she had been 
 forced to make her way had torn her clothes 
 in many places, and the rain had nearly washed 
 all the color from her brown stuff dress. 
 
 " What is the matter here ? " asked the deep 
 bass voice of a man wearing the uniform of 
 the police, whose hard features gave evidence 
 that he was no mild official. 
 
 " Look for yourself, Mr. Joost, and you will 
 see that I was right in seizing upon this little 
 personage ! She has been standing here half 
 an hour ogling my dolls, bestowing her espe- 
 cial countenance upon that lady in the crim- 
 son satin, and looking so affectionately upon 
 my wares that I was really afraid to turn my 
 back, for no one can know what such little 
 vagabonds may do ! " 
 
216 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 Erna blushed ; the poor child understood 
 Master Jack's insinuation, and, pressing her 
 hand to her eyes, sighed deeply. 
 
 " Come, come, child ! don't cry," said Mr. 
 Joost ; " no one can hurt you. if you have only 
 been gazing upon those silly dollies ; let me 
 search your pockets, and if I find nothing sus- 
 picious there, you may go." 
 
 Erna immediately offered her pockets for 
 inspection. Master Jack held a lamp to facili- 
 tate the operation, and looked highly pleased 
 when the policeman drew forth the glittering 
 stone fruit. 
 
 " What kind of toys do you call these, 
 Miss ? " asked Joost, sharply. 
 
 Erna grew pale, and knew not what to say. 
 
 " Hi ! hi ! we have it now ! " laughed Master 
 Jack. 
 
 " Will you be quiet ? " said Joost to the 
 store-keeper ; " the glass bullets do not belong 
 to you, and you have no business to meddle 
 in what does not concern you! As for you, 
 child, you must follow me to the police-office, 
 where you shall have a hearing." 
 
 " O good sir ! " implored Erna, " I swear to 
 you that the stones were given to me." 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 217 
 
 " You must prove that at the office ; this is 
 not the place for such oaths." 
 
 " Ah ! you will surely be merciful, and not 
 shut me up with criminals ! " 
 
 " Silly stuff! If you think yourself so inno- 
 cent, so much the better for you ; but now 
 march along with me ! Where is your pass- 
 port?" 
 
 " Good sir, I have no passport ! " cried Erna, 
 weeping. 
 
 " Well, what did I tell you, Mr. Joost ? " 
 grinned the shopkeeper. 
 
 " Take care of yourself, and of your own 
 doll faces, Master Jack; I am quite sufficient 
 to take care of the child." 
 
 So saying, he seized Erna's hand and led her 
 along with him. 
 
 Although it was quite late, yet a crowd of 
 curious persons assembled round the poor, 
 weeping girl, who tightly pressed her hands 
 over her eyes, and broke out into loud sobs, 
 when she heard a voice in the crowd say : 
 " So young, and already a thief ! " This was 
 the hardest trial of all. 
 
 The police-office, a great gloomy building, 
 
218 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 was finally reached. Erna followed the ser- 
 vant of the law into a little side-room, where 
 he said to her : " Out of regard to your youth, 
 and that you may not pass the night in bad 
 company, I will leave you here, alone. Here 
 is a piece of bread and a pitcher of water for 
 your supper. You will have a hearing early 
 to-morrow morning, and if you can prove your 
 innocence, you may go free." 
 
 " O, but the shame will always cling to 
 me ! " wept Erna. 
 
 " Don't be silly, child, and learn prudence 
 for the future ; what can such a little thing 
 as you be doing in a strange city without a 
 passport V 9 
 
 " O, you do not know why I left my home ! " 
 wept the forsaken girl. 
 
 " You must tell that to the judge to-morrow ; 
 but now you must go to sleep, for it is nearly 
 ten o'clock." 
 
 The man then extinguished the light, and 
 left Erna alone in the dark cell ; she felt about 
 with her hands until she found the little straw 
 pallet which lay in the corner of the room. 
 Although she was very weary and very sor- 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 219 
 
 rowful, she did not forget her prayers ; on the 
 contrary, she said them with redoubled fervor, 
 for experience had already taught her that 
 nothing can so relieve an oppressed spirit as 
 humble prayer. 
 
 She had scarcely closed her eyes when she 
 heard a strange whispering round her bed ; but 
 she was too tired to feel curious, and was soon 
 fast asleep. She dreamed that the walls of her 
 prison opened, that the darkness was all tinged 
 with rosy light, and that, instead of straw, she 
 slept upon a bed of roses and lilies. Soft 
 melodies floated round her, and so soothed the 
 poor, forsaken child, that her lips parted in a 
 happy smile. Erna furthermore saw in her 
 dream how the fairy-queen stepped out of a 
 white lily-bell and approached her bed. She 
 felt a light kiss upon her brow, and then heard 
 a gentle voice saying : " Be patient, the time 
 for rest is at hand ! " 
 
 Then two elves lifted, as before, the maiden's 
 couch from the earth, and rose with it towards 
 the clouds. The city lay far below, still shroud- 
 ed in darkness, and vale and hill rapidly van- 
 ished from Erna's view. 
 
220 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 Erna fancied all this to be merely a dream, 
 but her first glance, when she awoke in the 
 morning, convinced her of her mistake. She 
 lay upon a soft mossy bank at the foot of a 
 mountain, over whose summit the morning sun 
 was just rising. 
 
 Town, prison, and judge had all vanished, 
 and with them the child's anxiety. She cour- 
 ageously began to ascend the mountain, the 
 dove, as usual, flying on before. 
 
 The way soon became wearisome and diffi- 
 cult ; the steep rocks rose so precipitously, that 
 Erna was often forced to cling to them with 
 both hands to keep herself from falling. The 
 loose stones frequently rolled away from be- 
 neath her feet, thus greatly increasing the diffi- 
 culty of the ascent. 
 
 On the mountain-side were a few bushes 
 bearing sloes and haws, and here and there a 
 tuft of grass forced its way through the clefts ; 
 but the vegetation was all yellow, and appar- 
 ently scorched with the heat of the sun. And 
 yet this was hard to imagine, for a cold and 
 cutting wind was blowing over Erna's pathway. 
 
 No sound of life, not even the twittering of 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 221 
 
 a bird, was to be heard. Erna tried to sing a 
 simple song, but the sharp wind soon impeded 
 her utterance, and she was forced to pursue her 
 way in silence. 
 
 No village, no house, not even the tiniest 
 cabin, met her view. Nevertheless, she felt 
 no fear, and gazed from time to time on the 
 silver tablet hanging round her neck. O how 
 many stains had vanished ! But how many 
 still remained upon the bright surface ! 
 
 Toward noon she entered a deep ravine, and 
 surely now had no cause to complain of the 
 excessive quiet, for the loud roaring of a moun- 
 tain stream almost deafened her. The dark 
 water forced its way among the rocks, and in 
 its passage tore away large stones, rootless 
 bushes, and broken limbs which had fallen 
 from the trees. 
 
 The rocks were so piled overhead that the 
 wild pass was quite dark. Erna longed to 
 hasten through it, but the dove seemed in- 
 clined to rest in this very spot, and, flying to 
 a leafless trunk, drew in its little feet, and went 
 to sleep. 
 
 Erna crept into a narrow grotto which the 
 
222 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 hand of Nature had formed among the rocks. 
 She searched her pockets, and found some of 
 the bread and pears which Hannah and Chris- 
 topher had given her. She hastily demolished 
 this scanty meal, and then looked up anx- 
 iously toward the dove, for she longed to con- 
 tinue her journey. 
 
 But the dove still slept; Erna rose, went 
 first to the right and then to the left, recom- 
 menced the steep ascent, and even went a few 
 steps backward, — all in vain, the bird did not 
 stir. 
 
 Hour after hour passed away ; Erna still 
 stood upon the same spot, anxiously awaiting 
 her guide's movements. 
 
 She finally called her little friend by every 
 term of human endearment ; she tried to climb 
 up the leafless tree that she might stroke its 
 tender wings, but the height was too great, 
 and she was forced to abandon the attempt. 
 
 At length, after one hot tear after another 
 had, almost unconsciously to herself, rolled 
 down Erna's cheeks, the dove awoke. 
 
 " O, come down, dear little dove, and let us 
 journey on ! " cried the child. 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 223 
 
 The dove suddenly shuddered, gave a mourn- 
 ful cry, and flew hastily down into Erna's bo- 
 som, where it hid its head under its wing, and 
 trembled so violently that its feathers shook as 
 if ruffled by a sudden storm. 
 
 The child looked up and saw a great bird 
 of prey circling at no great distance above her 
 head, and glaring down upon her with its great 
 yellow eyes. 
 
 In an agony of fear she placed one hand 
 over the trembling bird, while she raised the 
 other as if to shield herself from the eagle, 
 which ever approached nearer and nearer to 
 its defenceless prey. 
 
 Erna closed her eyes in horror, but still 
 clung to the clove, with which the creature 
 would probably have been satisfied, bending 
 her body so as completely to protect it. 
 
 The sound of an arrow whizzing past her 
 fell upon Erna's ear ; a stifled cry, and a vio- 
 lent beating of the air, followed ; she looked up 
 and saw the huge bird, whose breast had been 
 pierced by an arrow, fall into the stream, which 
 rapidly bore away the dead body. 
 
 Erna looked in vain for her preserver, but 
 could see no one. 
 
224 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 The dove arose from her bosom, and flew 
 on, softly cooing, before her. 
 
 They soon left the dark ravine and entered 
 upon a wide plain, on which grew a little grass 
 and heather, mingled with a few Northern trees. 
 Amid the groves of firs and pines appeared 
 an occasional cottage or peasant's hut ; and, 
 however miserable these dwellings might be, 
 they were still human habitations, and filled 
 poor Erna's heart with a most joyful sense of 
 security. 
 
 Thus slowly passed the days, until Erna 
 finally forgot to number them. She was no 
 longer the blooming maiden introduced to our 
 young readers at the commencement of our 
 tale. Privation and hardship had rendered her 
 thin and pale, and her step was now feeble 
 and unsteady. Her blue eyes were often long- 
 ingly turned towards heaven, and bitter tears 
 flowed down her cheeks as she prayed : " O 
 my good Heavenly Father, if I do not soon 
 reach the goal, I shall not be able to rejoice in 
 my father's recovery, for my strength is passing 
 from me day by day ! " 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 225 
 
 The poor child was one evening making her 
 way through a thorny thicket; the brambles 
 tore her clothes and hair, not sparing even her 
 face and hands. She had scarcely tasted any- 
 thing during the whole day, and was now 
 quite rejoiced at finding a few blackberries 
 growing on the bushes, satisfying at once both 
 hunger and thirst. 
 
 But even these bushes soon ceased, and 
 scarcely a green leaf was to be seen. The 
 ground had become wet and spongy, and the 
 waste seemed interminable. She often sank 
 deep into the morass, from which she could 
 only with the greatest difficulty extricate her- 
 self ; but her patience never failed, and she was 
 ever ready to renew her painful efforts. 
 
 Night came on. Every now and then a 
 bright light would flash across the plain, and 
 then vanish as unexpectedly as it had arisen. 
 Erna fortunately remembered to have heard 
 her father speak of ignis fatui, which are es- 
 pecially found in damp places, and which fre- 
 quently lead travellers astray. 
 
 She took good care not to follow any of* 
 these deceitful guides, and Avas just about ly- 
 
 15 
 
226 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 ing down on the damp earth rather than incur 
 any further danger of sinking into the swamp 
 during -the darkness, when her eye suddenly 
 fell upon a bright and steady light shining at 
 a considerable distance before her. 
 
 She directed her steps toward it, and was 
 delighted to find the character of the ground 
 and surrounding landscape rapidly changing. 
 Waving grain-fields soon bordered her way, 
 the twittering of birds fell upon her ear, and 
 — most melodious sound to the lonely travel- 
 ler ! — she heard at no great distance the bark- 
 ing of a dog. 
 
 All nature seemed again to have revived. 
 Full of hope, she hastened on. She soon 
 reached a high railing enclosing a beautiful 
 garden. The gate was wide open, and she 
 entered a broad avenue of tall trees, from 
 whose branches hung innumerable colored 
 lamps, throwing a light almost as brilliant as 
 that of day. 
 
 The birds were singing as gayly, as if they 
 were greeting the approach of a fresh spring 
 * morning. 
 
 The dove flew on through the enchanted 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 227 
 
 groves, until the pair finally came to a lofty 
 castle of white marble rising from a terraced 
 hill. A thousand lights were gleaming through 
 the windows, and the portal was illuminated 
 by torches burning with a singular blue flame. 
 
 Troops of servants in gay liveries passed be- 
 fore the astonished girl, but no one seemed to 
 heed her presence, and no one asked her why 
 she came. The dove flew through the lofty 
 folding-doors, and tripped up the gilded bal- 
 ustrade. Erna timidly followed, but no one 
 apparently observed her; and although many 
 attendants, bearing fruits and sweetmeats on 
 silver dishes, hastened past her, yet no one 
 spoke to her. 
 
 She finally entered a vast hall, whose walls 
 were covered with blue tapestry spangled with 
 gold stars, whence innumerable wax lights 
 gleamed upon the gay scene below. 
 
 Ladies and gentlemen were dancing in the 
 interior of the hall. The long trains of rich 
 brocade rustled, feathers waved, and diamonds 
 glittered, while the breasts of nearly all the 
 gentlemen were decorated with stars and 
 orders. 
 
228 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 Erna, dazzled by the unexpected brilliancy 
 of the scene, closed her eyes, but she was no 
 longer unobserved ; the noblest among the 
 company approached her with deep reverences, 
 and begged her in the most persuasive tones 
 to remain with them. 
 
 Erna's eyes fell in embarrassment upon her 
 ragged clothes, when lo ! they were no longer 
 to be seen. A rich dress of embroidered silver 
 gauze flowed down upon her weary limbs, and 
 raising her hand to her head, she felt a diamond 
 crown in her hair, while the little silver tablet 
 had become a brilliant diamond cross. 
 
 But her heart beat anxiously, and almost 
 against her will she yielded her little hand to 
 one of the ladies who offered to be her guide, 
 and who led her into another large room, in 
 which stood a long table ornamented with 
 flowers and covered with dainties whose name 
 even was unknown to our simple Erna. 
 
 She sat down, and crystal vessels filled with 
 tempting fruit were placed before her. In spite 
 of her secret uneasiness, she was so faint with 
 hanger that she reached forth her hand to help 
 herself. But the dove which sat upon her 
 
THE TRIAL. 
 
 229 
 
 shoulder flapped its white wings against its 
 sides, and sang : — 
 
 " Away ! away ! 
 
 Thou mayst not stay, 
 No rest canst thou find here J 
 
 Come, fly with me, 
 
 Thy guide I '11 be, 
 For danger lurketh near ! " 
 
 Erna resolutely pushed the dish aside, and 
 refused to drink from the proffered glass of 
 sparkling wine. She rose from her seat ; the 
 I whole company surrounded her with flattering 
 words, and persuasive invitations to partake of 
 the pleasures offered to her thirsting spirit and 
 weary little frame. Her heart beat, her cheeks 
 burned ; she turned to the right and then to the 
 left, but saw no escape from the mysteriously 
 sparkling eyes of the whole company which 
 met her on every side. 
 
 To add to her confusion, she was almost 
 deafened by a band of music, whose tones 
 rose clearly and triumphantly above the gen- 
 eral clamor. Erna felt that danger threatened, 
 although she could not exactly tell how or 
 where. 
 
230 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 She thought no longer of her bodily wants, 
 and resolved to fly. She broke through the 
 throng, and hurried down the stairway ; the as- 
 sembled multitude called after her in strange, 
 wild tones, and the ladies threateningly raised 
 their white arms to impede her progress. 
 
 In the extremity of her terror, she pressed 
 the silver tablet to her heart, and lo ! the whole 
 scene vanished. Castle, garden, music, and 
 wax-tapers were all gone, and she stood alone 
 in the moonlight, beside a fountain whose 
 waters were tinged with the hues of the rose. 
 
 Near the fountain's brink knelt a winged 
 elf, who caught some of the glittering rosy 
 drops in a silver goblet, which he then placed 
 in the child's hand, saying : " Receive the re- 
 ward of your truth, self-sacrifice, and devoted 
 filial love!" 
 
 Who can describe Erna's delight as she 
 grasped the precious cup ? But before she 
 could utter a single word of thanks, she felt 
 an unconquerable sense of weariness and faint* 
 ness stealing over her; and closing her hand 
 tightly round the goblet, she sank upon the 
 grass, and fell into a deep slumber. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE REWARD. 
 
 We must again lead our young reader to 
 Erna's home. 
 
 When Erna re-opened her eyes, she thought 
 she must have been dreaming, but a glance 
 upon the silver goblet containing the healing 
 waters, convinced her of the blessed reality. 
 Round her neck hung the silver tablet, clear, 
 smooth, and shining, without one stain of rust! 
 
 Erna hastily rose, for she thought she had a 
 long journey to make before she could rejoin 
 her father, and restore his happiness through 
 her new-found treasure ; but, wonderful to re- 
 late ! she stood by the well-known stone bridge, 
 with her feet upon the very bank where she 
 had first seen the old woman. 
 
 Her father's cottage, her home, her all, lay 
 
232 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 in the valley at her feet. The morning sun 
 sh< ne brightly over the landscape, and the 
 matin bells called the faithful to prayer Er- 
 na fell upon her knees, and prayed long and 
 fervently. 
 
 With winged steps and a joyful heart, she 
 hastened down into the valley ; she no longer 
 needed a guide, and the faithful dove had van- 
 ished. 
 
 Her heart beat loudly as she entered the 
 little house. She stood a moment in the en- 
 try, and gazed through the half-open door. 
 Her father was sitting by the window, breath- 
 ing the fresh, pure air of the early morning ; he 
 leaned his head upon his hand, and sighed 
 deeply. 
 
 " Is your seat quite comfortably arranged, 
 Father Berthold ? " asked Minnie, at the same 
 moment handing him a cup of new milk. 
 
 " Put the cup down, child, I cannot drink ! " 
 
 " But you have eaten so little since Erna 
 went away, and she will surely scold me 
 when she returns, and finds you so pale and 
 thin ! " 
 
 " Returns ? Erna return ! " repeated he with 
 
THE REWARD. 
 
 233 
 
 a deep sigh ; " child, do you really believe she 
 will return ? " 
 
 « Why not ? You were also full of hope in 
 the beginning, and .when I questioned you, you 
 used to smile mysteriously and say, 6 Believe 
 me, she will return. ' " 
 
 " But many long weeks have passed since 
 then, and my child is not yet here. O who 
 knows in what abyss she may have perished, 
 while I, her foolish father, suffered myself to 
 be cajoled by a dream ! " 
 
 At these words, great tears rolled from Ber- 
 thold's darkened eyes and fell upon his wasted 
 hands. 
 
 Erna could no longer contain herself. She 
 rushed into the room, and fell at her father's 
 feet. "Here I am, dear father! I live and 
 bring you help ! O, all will be well now ! " 
 
 " Erna, my child ! my sweet child ! You 
 live ! I have you once more ! I hold you in 
 my arms ! All is indeed well now, and I feel 
 that I can even be happy in my blindness if 
 you are only with me ! " 
 
 " O father, you will see again ! you will 
 certainly soon see your happy child, your 
 Erna!" 
 
234 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 The child was nearly beside herself with joy. 
 but she did not the less gently and carefully 
 bathe Berthold's eyes with the precious balm. 
 
 The father raised his hand to his eyes, as if 
 blinded by excess of light ; he thought at first 
 he must be dreaming, for the darkness which 
 had oppressed him for so many long years 
 had vanished. He saw his child, the good 
 Minnie, the woods and fields, and the blue, 
 shining heavens. No words can paint his 
 rapture. 
 
 " O my God ! to what miracle am I to at- 
 tribute my recovery ? " asked Berthold, still 
 lost in astonishment. 
 
 " After God, to thy child ! " answered a gen- 
 tle voice, and the fairy-queen, in all her beauty 
 and glory, stood before the bewildered trio. 
 
 Erna bent her knee, and touched the per- 
 fumed garment of the lovely apparition with 
 her lips. " O, not to me!" cried she. " Your 
 aid, generous queen, next to (5od's, wrought 
 the wonder ! " 
 
 u You may believe so, if the thought gives 
 pleasure to your modesty. And now let us 
 part ; you no longer need my protection, and 
 we shall never meet again." 
 
THE REWARD. 
 
 235 
 
 " And the dove, the faithful guide ? " asked 
 Erna. 
 
 " Was no other than myself, dear child ! I 
 wished in person to guide, warn, and protect 
 you. The fruits which you plucked in my 
 kingdom are worth much more than you think, 
 and if you sell them, they will restore all you 
 have lost through the inaction forced upon 
 your father by his long blindness. I know 
 too, Erna, that your good heart will not per- 
 mit Minnie's kindness to go unrewarded, and 
 that she will share with you this gift, as well 
 as your present happiness ! " 
 
 So saying, the fairy lifted her lily wand in 
 token of benediction over the heads of the 
 happy trio. They fell upon their knees, and 
 watched the fairy's car of rosy clouds drawn 
 by two snow-white swans, until it had disap- 
 peared in the brightness of the shining firma- 
 ment. 
 
 It was some time before Berthold and Min- 
 nie could recover from their astonishment; and 
 you may be sure that, when they did so, there 
 was no end to the questions which Erna was 
 called upon to answer. The child gave a 
 lively account of her adventures, touching as 
 
236 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 lightly as possible, however, upon her own 
 sufferings. 
 
 Erna soon became more blooming than ever. 
 The fairy fruits were sold to a jeweller in a 
 neighboring town, who declared them to be 
 most wonderful stones, and who paid so high 
 a price for them that Berthold and his daugh- 
 ter were placed above want during the re- 
 mainder of their lives ; and of course Minnie 
 shared all with them. 
 
 The tiny cottage was replaced by a commo- 
 dious, but simple country-house; and although 
 Berthold had become comparatively rich, he 
 never lost his love for that useful labor which 
 he had so long been forced to relinquish. He 
 shared his superfluity with all the needy, and 
 never forgot to be humble and pious. 
 
 Some wonderful blessing seemed to rest 
 upon all Erna's labors, and good fortune at- 
 tended her during the whole course of her 
 life ; but although she frequently afterwards 
 visited the stone bridge, she never again saw 
 a fairy. 
 
 THE END. 
 
f