the bronze statue. CHAPTER I. THE FORREST. Our tale opens in the month of July, 1435. It was towards the close of a day which had been oppressively warm and sultry, that a solitary traveller, mounted on a pow¬ erful steed, was pursuing a rough and unbroken road that skirted the eastern side of a vast forest in Bohemia. The radiant blush which the departing sun suffused over the western sky, was rapidly giving way to the increasing ob¬ scurity of the evening; and although the tops of the tallest trees—those giants of the vegetable kingdom—were still tinged with the ruddy glow, yet utter darkness already reigned within the wood, and sombre were the shades which the dense foliage threw upon the traveller’s path. The variegated richness and sparkling hues of floral coloring which in the day¬ time decked the border of the forest with a gorgeous garniture, were now invisible to the eye: for the flowers, having banqueted on the evening dew, folded up their leaves to join in that repose to which all inanimate nature was yielding. Deep, solemn, and awe-inspiring was the silence that prevailed around—a stupendous stillness which seemed not to belong to the air itself, but to come as it were like a spell, from the black depths of that vast wood. From time to time, however, there was a whirr of wings in the drowsy atmosphere, as some bird of night swept by in its im¬ palpable path: or the scream of the owl burst on the traveller’s startled ear;—or else the distant growl of the wolf made his steed wince and tremble till encouraged by the caressing hand of its master. The evening deepened. Overhead the branches shot forth at in* tervals in wild and fantastic forms; and in the lengthened shade which the wall of trees threw upon the ground, the shadows of man and horse were alike absorbed. Sometimes the projecting boughs as¬ sumed in the imperfect light such singular and almost terrific shapes, that it appeared as if the stately oaks had become spectres of colossal size, stretching out their mighty arms to pluck the lonely traveller from his steed. But little inclined to superstitious terrors was he: and while he is wending his way slowly along the broken road, and the shades of night are deepening around him, we will endeavor in a few words to convey an idea of his persona! appearance. His tall and well-knit form, though evincing great physical strength, was of admirable proportions and graceful sym- metry: his bearing was noble and digni¬ fied ;—and if his countenance, with its ac- quiline cast and the haughtv curl of the short upper lip, bespoke a lofty pride, there was nevertheless a reassuring blandness in its smile, and the benevolence of a chival¬ rous disposition was expressed in every lineament. His fine blue eyes, flashing from beneath jetty lashes long and slightly curling like those of a woman, denoted a powerful intellect and a generous heart: and nothing could exceed the magnificence of that pale and elevated forehead, above which the dark brown hair was parted in wavy masses. The high arching of the brows took away from the severity of look which their deep pencilling would other¬ wise have occasioned; and although his features were strongly marked with the faultless Roman outline, yet so expressive were they of a noble mind and an honora¬ ble character,—so completely, too, did the light of intelligence and the animation of lofty feelings prevail over any grosser at¬ tribute,—that there was nothing sensual. 4 THE BRONZE STATUE. nor indicative of less estimable qualities in that face of perfect masculine beauty. He wore no moustache; his whiskers, which were crisp, glossy, and naturally curling, met beneath his chin, upon which their growth was not however permitted o encroach in the shape of a beard. Thus his countenance formed a complete oval, the Olympian dignity and classical mien of which would have constituted a tine study fjr the sculptor or the painter. The age of this distinguished cavalier was about seven-and-twenty. His attire was composed of good material, but was plain and unpretending in respect to orna¬ ment. A poniard and a sword, fastened to the belt that girt his waist, were his weapons of defence: the 6purs that he wore upon the heels of his buff boots were of gold, indicating his rank to be at least that of knighthood, if not more elevated;—and a crimson plume waved gracefully from the front of his velvet cap. Such was the traveller whom we find wending his way along the border of the vast Bohemian forest, while the shades of night were rapidiy deepening around him. It was evident that he was a complete stranger in this district: for from time to time he reined in his steed and swept iiis eyes over all the open part of the country which lay to his right; and when no glim¬ mering of a lamp from some cottage win¬ dow met his looks, he muttered to himself M was wrong to pursue my path without a guide. And perhaps I have mistaken my road altogether.’ Then, as he spurred his horse onward again, he would say, after a few moments’ reflection, ‘No—I have not wandered from the right path. The good peasant at the cottage where I last halted, directed me to keep the road skirting the border of the forest. But he must have miscalculated the distance—or I must have misunderstood him: for ere this, according to his state¬ ment, ought I to have reached the Castle of Altendorlv Again would he glance around to seek for some human habitation where he could^ either obtain fresh and accurate directions to guide him, or where he might repose until morning: but not a twinkling light broke through the deepening darkness; and the silver moon, rising above the trees, ibund the traveller still pursuing that ap- paiently endless road. Suddenly a piercing shriek came vibrat¬ ing from the interior of the forest on his -startled ear: and this was immediately fol¬ lowed by the sounds of mcii’e voices, ex¬ changing rapid observations, but the pur¬ port if which did not reach him—for although the sentences thus uttered were emphatic and ejaculatory, they were brief and subdued in tone. Then came another shriek, more stifled, as if a hand were p aced over the mouth that gave vent to it; and there was a struggling amidst the trees at a short distance from the spot where the traveller had abruptly halted on hearing the first indication of female an¬ guish. To spring to the ground and fasten his horse by the bridle to a low projecting bough was the work of a moment with our traveller ;—and, loosening his sword in its sheath, he dashed into the forest—taking the direction whence the screams and the voices had appeared to emanate. In a few minutes he heard the quick rustling of the foliage, and the sharp snapping of the small branches at a little distance ; and following those evidences of the rapid passage of persons through the thickets of the wood, he suddenly encountered three men, bear¬ ing the inanimate form of a woman amongst them. The moonbeams penetrated just suffi¬ ciently through the verdant canopy of the forest to enable the traveller to perceive this much ;—but bis own approach had not been overheard by the party of men, the rustling of the underwood caused by them¬ selves having drowned that produced by his progress. Without an instant’s hesitation, he sprang upon the ioremost of the three and hurled him violently upon the ground, where he lay either dead or senseless;— ejaculations of terror instantly burst from the second, who, dropping the inanimate female, plunged into the depths of the forest and disappeared—doubtless imagin¬ ing that there was a number of assailants springing to the rescue, instead of a single champion. All this had taken place in a twentieth part of the time which has been occupied by us in describing it;—and the third indivi¬ dual, giving vent to a hasty but bitter im¬ precation against the cowardice of the fu¬ gitive, drew his sword and rushed upon the traveller. But scarcely had the blade glanced in the moonbeams across the eyes of the latter, when his weaipon was likewise snatched from his sheath, and the two brands clashed together. Our traveller labored under a disadvan¬ tage, inasmuch as the rays of the planet of night streamed full upon his own coun¬ tenance and developed to the eyes of the other every movement that he made and every feint that he attempted ; whereas his foe, shaded by the overhanging drapery of boughs, presented only a dark and ill-de¬ fined form, of whose features it was impos¬ sible to obtain a glimpse, and whose mode of fence and attack it was impossible to 5 the bron: follow. Nevertheless, our traveller, who was as skilful in handling his weapon as he was cool and courageous in combat, not only warded off all the blows and thrusts which were made at him by one who was assailing him as it were from the covert ambush of the deep shade, but eventually disarmed him. The sword which his ene¬ my wie'ded was dashed from his hand ; and the next moment the vanquished indi¬ vidual saved himself by a precipitate flight from any chastisement which the conqueror might have thought fit to inflict upon him. Thus remaining master of the scene, our traveller returned his weapon to its sheath, and raised the inanimate female in his arms. She was still in a deep swoon; and for an instant her victorious champion feared that life was instinct. But, placing his hand upon her heart, he felt it throb gently : and at the same time her lips quivered slightly, as the silver moon now shone with all its power through the opening in the trees upon her countenance. And, heavens! on what an angelic face did that pure flood of argentine splendor stream! It gave a living Iu6tre to linea¬ ments that were faultlessly beautiful, though now so marble pale ;—and it displayed all the soft and flowing outlines of a form modelled to the most exquisite proportions. Her garb indicated that she belonged to the peasant class, so far as social position went: but, even in the rapid glance which the stranger threw over her as he held her in his arms, and statue-like as she was in the deep swoon which still continued, he saw enough to impress him with an idea of a loveliness Utterly surpassing all the dreams of woman’s chirms which he had ever formed in the enthusiastic spring-tide of his youth. But what was he to do to recover her ?— where could he seek for water wherewith to moisten her alabaster brow ? Bewildered and anguished—fearing that the spirit would ebb away for ever from its beauteous mor¬ tal tenement, ere needful succor could be afforded—the traveller threw his eyes around, penetrating with their eagle glances into the ueep recesses of the forest. And, Ojoy! a flickering, glimmering light met his view : his straining orbs were fixed upon it, in terror lest it should prove a delusion: but, no—it was a light, stationary and ap pearing like the gleam of a lamp shining dimly through a cottage lattice. Animated with hope that assistance might now be found, and in his excitement for¬ getting altogether the man whom he had felled and who still lay motionless upon the ground, the traveller bore his lovely bur¬ then in the direction of the light, which every moment became stronger as he ap- :e statue. proached it; and in about five minutes he reached a large and comfortable-looking habitation, occupying an open space in the forest. The hasty ki ock which he gave at the door, was immediately answered by an elderly woman of respectable appearance* who uttered an ejaculation of terror when th - light streaming from within the cottage fell upon the marble countenance of the young female; and the stranger instantane¬ ously perceived by her manner that his fair charge either belonged to the house or was well known there. ‘Oh! Wildon, here is our Angela!’ ex¬ claimed the woman, clasping her hands. k But, just heaven ! is the dear girl dead, sir?’ she demanded in a voice of anguish which bespoke the liv< Best interest, if not maternal feelings, on behalf of the inanimate beauty. ‘No—she will recover, with^proper re¬ medies,’ answered the traveller, bearing his lovely burthen into the cottage, where a man, of benevolent appearance, and whose age might be about fifty, hastened forward from the inner room. The elderly couple in turns embraced the lovely Angela, who now began to show signs of returning consciousness; and they bore her to that interior apartment which we have just mentioned. During their temporary absence the traveller cast his eyes around the mom in which they had left him ; and everything denoted comfort and independence. The most scrupulous cleanliness characterised the dwelling; and the smokpd hams and flitches suspended to the ceiling showed that the wild boar of the forest furnished the table of the inmates of that cottage with a plentiful and substantial food. In a few minutes the man, whose n tme appeared to be Wildon, came forth from the inner room, and announced that Angela was fast recovering, but that as yet she had b> en unable to give any account of what had happened to her. The traveller there¬ upon n rrated as much as he knew of her adventure, and the share which he had taken in it; and Wildon expressed his gratitude in the liveliest terms. ‘ I presume that the lovely Angela is your daughter ?’ said the stranger. 4 She is not our child, good sir,’ was the reply : 4 but we love her as dearly as if she were. Half an hour ago she went nut to fill her pitcher at the adjacent well—and thoss villains from whom you sog< nerously rescued her, must have carried her off We were growipg uneasy at her prolonged absence ; and indeed I was arming myself to hasten in search of her when you brought THE BRONZE STATUE. her home. In her name and in our own, I renew the most heartfelt thanks.’ ‘ Have you any idea who the wretches could have been that thus dared to maltreat her?’ inquired the traveller. ‘ Not the remotest,’ answered Wildon. *But perhaps, when her mind is sufficiently composed to enable her to give us full par¬ ticulars of the outrage, we may learn some¬ thing on that score. Will it please you, worthy gentleman, to accept of such poor hospitality as this cottage may afford-’ ‘ Ere 1 can decide upon your courteous proposal,’ interrupted the stranger, 4 1 must ask to be informed how far distant is the Castle of Altendorf ?’ 4 A matter ot a league,’ was the response. « The road skirting the forest in that direc¬ tion,’ continued Wildon, pointing with his hand, 4 leads straight up to the entrance.’ 4 And tell me, worthy peasant,’ said the traveller, 4 of what repute is the Baron of Altendorf? Does he bear a good name in his district ?—for I opine that you are one of his vassals.’ ‘ No, sir,’ answered Wildon: 4 This forest is upon the estate of the good and kind- hearted Count of Rosenberg, whose castle is situated about three leagues to the west¬ ward of my cottage. I am his head forest- keeper, and you may judge,’ he nuded, cast¬ ing his eyes feelingly ami complacently around the comfortable room, 4 that I serve a generous master.* 4 Yes; I have heard favorable reports of the Count of Rosenberg,’ said the traveller, in a musing tone ; then, after a few instants’ pause, he exclaimed, 4 But the Baron of Altendorf bears not, I believe, an equally amiable character ?’ 4 To speak frankly and candidly, good sir,* returned the man, 4 I am unacquainted with any specific charge against his lord- ship of Altendorf. His vassals speak of him as cruel, severe, and tyrannical; and gos¬ sips whisper idle tales concerning him. ’Tis even said that strange sights are sometimes seen and supernatural sounds heard in the Castle: and true enough it is that the n«ht wing of the building has been shut up for many years; indeed, as long as I can re- ' member; and I have lived in this district since childhood. But it you ask me whe¬ ther I know of any crime or evil deed which his lordship has ever committed, 1 say un¬ hesitatingly nay.’ 4 You speak as an honest man,’ exclaimed the traveller, who, in the frankness of his own generous nature, was well pleased with Wiidon’s ingenuousness, * Has not this Baron a son ?’ 4 The Lord Rodolph*—a youth of about one-and-twenty,’ answered the forest-keep¬ er. 4 Ue is a wild boy, and some say mis¬ chievous withal; but I myself have never had cause to complain of him. ’Tis true, he has no control over me: but, by the per¬ mission of my noble master, he hunts in this wood, and on those occasions 1 have seen him. If he be somewhat thoughtless and headstrong, *tis perhaps because he has never known a mothers care since the first few months of his infancy.’ 4 A peasant, at whose cottage I rested myself awhile in the afternoon of this day, told me that the Baron’s wife died suddenly, and even mysteriously, about twenty years ago,’ observed the traveller. 4 There was strange talk on the subject at the time,’ answered Wildon ; 4 but I know not with how much truth. People shook their heads, and gossips whispered ; but if there had been aught really wrong, the Count of Rosenberg would not have borne it tranquilly ; for the late Baroness of Al¬ tendorf was his sister.’ 4 I see that you are not one of those who think evil of a man without having positive proof,’ observed the traveller; 4 and I ad¬ mire your character. But while I am thus talking, my good steed which I left in the road is doubtless growing impatient. Touching, therefore, the kind and courteous invitation which you ere now gave me to partake of your hospitality, I am compelled to refuse it at present. My ultimate desti¬ nation is Prague, where I hope to arrive within three days; and to-night I propose to rest beneath the roof of the Lord of Al¬ tendorf. Some weeks hence I shall be re¬ turning this way, when I will stop at your cottage for an hour and renew my acquaint¬ ance with you.’ 4 And on that occasion, which I shall look forward to with pleasure,’ responded Wil¬ don, 4 our Angela will be enabled to thank you with her own lips for the signaj ser¬ vice you have rendered her this evening.’ 4 By no sweeter lips in the universe can man be thanked,’ said the traveller. Then, having bade the honest peasant farewell, he plunged once more into the forest Remembering the direction which he had ere now taken, when bearing the beauteous Angela in his arms to the cottage, he found no difficulty in retracing his way ; and, on passing the scene of his combat with one of her abilucers, he bethought himself of the man whom he had first overthrown in the encounter. But after a strict search, he could perceive no trace of him; and he, therefore, concluded that the ruffian, being only 6tunned, had recovered his senses, ana taken himself off The traveller accordingly hastened on¬ ward through the thicket into the road, where his steed was banquettmg on the THE BRONZE STATUE. rich herbage that bordered the forest; and, mounting the noble animal, lie P4'£ l “ 18 way in the direction of Altendorf Castle. CHAPTER IL lord rodolph. Ik about twenty minutes the lofty towers ofthe feudal fortalice began to standout ike shapely clouds, in the pure moonlight, against the deep purple sky; and by degrees, as the stranger approached them, ‘hey as Burned the solemn and imposing form ot a vast castellated structure. The summits^ those huge masses of masonry shone with a greyis’i lustre, borrowed from the sweet planet of the night; but that appearance Gradually deepened ‘downwards .n hue, umil the lower portions of the stupendous edifice were revealed in an awe-tnsp.rn.g and gloomv blacknes3. The forest stretched completely up to the right wing of the building, a portion of which was thus embowered by the mighty oaks that seemed as capable of defying old Time as the gothic walls themselves; and from the central tower to lha * e . xt J’ em t l I > y p which was so completely shrouded by th . dense foliage, not a single light glimmered from tlue high, narrow, arched windows. But through many a lattice m the left wing; and the adjacent structures the beims of lamps shone forth, displaying, instead ° f Sating, the sombre aspect and prison- like gloom that invested the entire Castle as it frowned in sullen grandeur high above the broad moat which glittered like a river of quicksi.ver in the po*erful lustre of tne m °Th"e road grew less rugged and broken, and considerably wider, as it approached the draw-bridge, which lay like a deep b ack shadow across the pure stream; and on reaching the foot of the massive wooden vioduct, the traveller blew the horn that was suspended by a chain to a post, pe wicket of the great gates was speedily opened, and a burly warder appeared on tho ttir . e yVho art thou, worthy stranger?’ de rt cmiehoStality until the morrow,’ was the answer. ‘ Travelling for a special purpose, and on behalf of his Highness, Al- beri Duke of Austria, 1 am the bearer o< credentials proving me to be a trusty senger in tho service of that boverei B n P 'i n Th'e Baron of Altendorf is, at this pre- ‘ Tlie i>aron oi rmcuuv.. — - . « sent time, absent on a journey, said the warder, in a respectful tone; ‘ but his noble son, the Lord Rodolph, will make you Hght welcome. By t. hat name shall I introduce you to his presence T 7 ‘lam called Sir Ernest de Colmar, was the reply ; ‘ and I won the golden spurs of knighthood in battle against the Turks. * Enter, Sir Ernest de Colmar! exclaimed the warder, instantly throwing open the sates ofthe Castle; although, at the same time, he marvelled that a man of such rank and in the special service of the reigning Prince of the Duchy of Austria should travel unattended even by a single ser- Vlt ‘ My two pages,’ said the Knight, as he dismounted from his steed in the court-yard of the Castle, and making the present ob¬ servation either because he divined what was passing in the man’s thoughts, or because he felt that some excuse was neccs- sary— 1 my two pages will be here before I take my departure in the morning, t hey have tarried behind me to execute certain commissions wherewith I had entrusted A groom, summoned by the warder, re¬ ceived the travel-wearied horse; and air Ernest was conducted inti? a spacious arched vestibule, lighted by a massive iron lamp suspended to the ceiling. At the tar- ther extremity were the high and deeply- set gothic doors, evidently opening into the chapel: and on either side of the hall was a large staircase. The warder led the y up the flight commun.-iating with that por¬ tion ofthe building which stood on the left ofthe huge central tower; and on reaching the landing, the Knight was escorted through several long passages, until his guide threw open a door, announcing, m a loud voice, ‘ Sir Ernest de Colmar. The apartment which the guest now en¬ tered was spacious, lofty, and furnished in a style of gloomy grandeur well befitting the general aspect of the ancient fortahe . Upon a table in the centre stood fl®.g° n3 °£ wine, drinking-cups, and 8evel ' a dishe8 °f fruit; but no one was seated at the board. for the only occupant of the room at the time when the Knight was ushered in wa a very young man, who seemed to be inter- runted by this visit as be was pacing toandi fro in an apparently agitated manner. The moment, however, a guest was an¬ nounced in the usual terms, he smoothed his ruffled brow, and, assuming a milder deportment, advanced to greet him. But the instant the light ofthe lamp, suspended to the ceiling, revealed to Lord Rodolphi for he it was—the countenance of the Knt 0 ht, he started, turned pale, and appeared to be seized with a sudden paroxysm of mingled rage and surprise ; then, recovering himse.f so promptly that this rapid excitement of 8 THE BRONZE STATUE. strange feelings passed unobserved by the guest, the young nobleman said in as cour¬ teous a voice as he could command, ‘ You are welcome, Sir Knight.’ ‘Your lofdship will pardon me for this intrusion,’ observed De Colmar: ‘but I have ventured, although a perfect stranger even perhaps to my very name, to demand for a single night that hospitality which, under similar circumstances, is never re¬ fused at my own dwelling in ducal Aus¬ tria.’ ‘ Nor in our ancient Bohemia does the way-worn traveller seek an asylum in vain,’ responded Rodolpii. ‘ I regret that my father should not be here to entertain one of your degree ; but he is at this moment on his way to Prague.’ ‘ Whither l myself am bound,’ added Sir Ernest ‘ I have the honor to serve his Highness Albert of Austria; and I am tra¬ velling to the Bohemian capital on a secret and special errand. It will delight me if I can become the hearer of letter or message for your noble father, whom I thall doubt¬ less meet in that city.’ ‘ I thank you, Sir'Knight/said Rudolph ; ‘and although it is but a week since the Baron took his departure, I shall avail myself of your kindness to assure him of my health, and commend myself to his paternal recollections.’ The domestics now entered for the pur¬ pose of spreading tb* table with the evening repast; and while Uiey were thus engaged, Rodolph and the Knight continued to dis¬ course on various topics. The only son and heir of the Baron of Altendorf was, as Wildon, the forest-keeper, had informed Sir Ernest de Colmar, about one-and-twenty years of age. He was tall, well made, and undeniably handsome; but, although his eyes were large, dark, and searching, and even fascinated the beholder with their extraordinary brilliancy, yet their expression was not agreeable. It would have been difficult, perhaps, to define in what they were thus unpleasant. Certain, however, it is that when they were fixed upon the countenance of another, they pro¬ duced a sensation mysteriously painful, and engendered a species of disquiet in the mind. His complexion was a clear olive, with scarlet lips, evincing a sensual disposition. His forehead whs low, and his brows at times had a habit of contracting, as if care or heavy thought already weighed upon that youthful head. His hair was black as night—the least thing coarse—but curling naturally; and his teeth were perfectly even and of brilliant whiteness. In manners he was somewhat reserved distant, and haughty; to those beneath him he was invariably imperious, often despotic, and, if thwarted <-r angered, he would give- way either to violent outbursts of passion* or shroud himself in savage sulienness. Vindictive in the extreme, he never par¬ doned, much les3 forgot, an injury; and to wreak his spite upon any one whom he con¬ sidered to be his foe, he would summon to his aid the meanest resourc e of petty ma¬ lignity. Possessing a remarkable power of comrolling his feelings when such disguise suited his purpose, he was even enabled to assume an air of friendliness towards those against whom he inwardly cherished the bitterest rancor. Such was Lord Rodolph, the only son and heir ofthe Baron of A Item. *,rr. Whatever were the cause that had pro¬ duced so startling an effect on the young nobleman when he first caug.n sight of Sir Ernest de Colmar’s features, certain it is that he now either ihought no more of it, ur else veiled it beneath a semblance of trank and open-hearted courtesy. Thus, while the dependants were arranging on the table the materials for a substantial 0 repast. Lord Rodolph conversed with the Knight in a manner expressive of the most hospi¬ table welcome and the most friendly cour tesy. The board was spread with all the solid luxuries worthy of a baronial mansion, and characteristic of those feudal times. The boar’s bead, the venison pasty, the huge round of spiced beef, the game pie, and the fresh-water fish, stewed in wine, were flanked wiih jugs ot strong malt liquor and with flagons of the rich juice ofthe grape; and between the dishes of viands just enu¬ merated were placed piles of the most deli¬ cious fruits of the country and the season. Sir Ernest de Colmar’s appetite had been sharpened by the long ride which followed a halt he had made in the afternoon at a peasant’s cottage, where lie had last re¬ freshed himself; and he now did ample jus¬ tice to the repast. Lord Rodolph, on the contrary, ate but little, and from time to time seemed pre occupied with some domi¬ nating idea, the influence of which he could not altogether shake off; but when he thus found Ins mind sinking into a reverie, he aroused himse.f with an exertion, and did his best to entertain his visitor. > W ,hen a 5 \ e ™ cups of wine had been drunk, Rodolph rose from bis seat, saying, Pardon my absence, Sir Knight, for a few minutes: 1 go to give the necessary orders that a suitable apartment be prepared to re¬ ceive you, and that nothing be wanting to ensure your comfort.’ Sir Ernest de Colmar expressed his thanks, and Rodolph quitted the room, THE BRONZE STATUE. 9 beckoning one of the pages who waited at table to follow him. Passing a little way down the Iong pas¬ sage, Rodolph entered a small ante-cham¬ ber leading to his own suite of apartments ; and, flinging himself into a large arm-chair, he said to the page, 4 Hasten thou to the servants’ hall, and bid Hubert, the steward, attend upon me here without delay. 3 The boy bowed and retired ; and in a few minutes an old man, whose hair was white with the snows of sixty winters, entered the room. His short, spare figure, was per^ fectly upright; and his stepliad lost little of the elasticity of a more youthful age. But his was one of those pale and slightly wrinkled countenances which furnish but a vague and uncertain index to the soul; for if there were something sinister in the glances of the small, sharp, restless grey eyes, there was also a certain benevolence about the lips; and if the brows were over¬ hanging, and gave a sombre expression to the upper part of the face, the effect was counteracted by the placidity of the old man’s smile. Then, again, his voice was soft, gentle, and rather melancholy in tone; and his manner was agreeable and courteous, without being degradingly ser¬ vile. 4 Hubert, 3 said Rodolph, the moment the steward made his appearance, 4 you are aware that there is a guest at the Castle ?’ 4 Is not your lordship satisfied with the fare which I ordered to be served up V in¬ quired Hubert, perceiving that there was something peculiar in his young master’s tone and manner. 4 Perfectly satisfied,’ answered Rodolph. 4 The supper was worthy of the hospitality of Altendorf, and I am anxious that this honored guest should be lodged for the night as handsomely as he has banquetted.’ 4 Assuredly, my lord,’ responded Hubert, who fancied that he observed something like a lurking satire, if not a sheer malevo¬ lence, in the looks and words of the noble¬ man. 4 I have given directions to prepare the Oaken Chamber for this worthy Knight who travels in the service of the great Al¬ bert of Austria. 3 4 The Oaken Chamber!’ ejaculated Ro¬ dolph, affecting to be surprised at the ar¬ rangement thus made for the accommoda¬ tion of his guest. i How can you think of such a thing ? 3 4 Is it not the best apartment now in use, my lord ? 3 said Hubert, more and more sur¬ prised by his young master’s language and manner. 4 Yes, the best now in vse , truly, 3 ex¬ claimed Rodolph. 4 But, look you. worthy Hubert: this Sir Ernest de Colmar is a mes¬ senger journeying on behalf of the Duke of Austria; and, although we have not the honor to be the subjects of that Prince, it nevertheless behoves us to treat and enter¬ tain the representative of his Highness in a fitting manner. How is it, then, that you have not thought of preparing the State Chamber for the use of Sir Ernest de Colmar ?’ 4 The State Chamber, my lord!’ repeated Hubert, a shudder passing rapidly through his frame, and sudden horror glaring in his eyes: then, instantly composing him¬ self, he said, 4 But your lordship only jests with me.’ 4 I am in no jesting humor,’ answered the young nobleman, sternly. 4 ’Tis true that the State Chamber is in the right wing of the Castle ; true, also, that the apartments in that portion of the building have been shut up tor many long years-’ 4 And true, likewise,’ added Hubert, solemnly, 4 that your noble father would never forgive your lordship or myself if we were to lodge the Knight there P 4 1 am not sure that the Baron would be so angry as your words imply, Hubert, 3 re¬ turned Rodolph 4 At all events, I am lord and master here during his absence ; and what it suits my will and pleasure to do, that I will perform Report says that the right wing of the Castle is haunted; but I, for one, put no faith in such idle rumors. However, we will this night clear up the mystery. Accident has thrown in our way a gallant warrior, who, being a total stran¬ ger in these parts, cannot have heard aught of that silly gossip—and, to ^11 appearance, he is a man who will face an evil spirit as readily as a foeman in fair combat. It is my command, therefore, 3 continued the young nobleman, in a stern and imperious voice, 4 that the State Chamber be pre¬ pared for his accommodation. If he pass the night unmolested, 4vill not the lie be given to the foul scandal current in regard to the finest portion of this castellated man¬ sion, which will one day be mine?—end if it be thus disproved that the right wing is visited by the troubled spirits of the dead, my father will rejoice at the result of the ordeal, and will throw open those apart¬ ments once more.’ » 4 My lord,’ said Hubert, in a faint and tremulous tone, 4 I implore you not to take this rash—this inconsiderate step! Your noble father has doubtless good reason—— 3 4 To believe the silly tales that gossips recite f exclaimed Rodolph, starting angrily from his seat. 4 Then, if it he so, the more imperiously does it become his son to clear up th mystery in his absence. Hubert, 3 added the nobleman, fixing his keen dark eyes menacingly upon the old steward, who 10 THE BRONZE STATUE. trembled from head to foot, i either obey without another remonstrance the orders which I have given you, or else confess that you know more of those apartments and the legends belonging to them than I can as yet suspect or imagine.’ 4 Your lordship shall be obeyed,’answer¬ ed Hubert, in a tone that was scarcely au¬ dible; 4 and the State Chamber 6hali be prepared forthwith.’ 4 Good!’ exclaimed Lord Rodolph; and without another word, he quitted the room, hastening back to the apartment in which he had left Sir Ernest de Colmar. Apologizing to the Knight for his pro¬ tracted absence, he instantly took up the conversation at that topic which they were previously discussing; and he studiously, but apparently with an unrestrained ease, made himself so agreeable that Sir Erne fc t became greatly prepossessed in his favor.— A few more goblets of wine were drunk ; and thus another hour was whiled away as if it were only a few minutes. It was now midnight; and Lord Rodolph, rising from his seat, proposed to conduct his guest to the apartment prepared for his accommodation. A page was summoned ; and the boy. bearing a lamp in his hand, led the way through a complete labyrinth of corridors, the nobleman and the knight following and conversing as they thus walked together. At length they reached the end of a passage, where Hubert stood on the thresh¬ old ot a massive door, which was open._ He also carried a lamp, the light of which yell upon his countenance, rendering it al¬ most ghastly in its ashy paleness; and he threw a rapid but beseeching glance upon Rodolph, as if to implore him to alter his mind even yet. The young nobleman, however, affected not to catch that look of entreaty; but, dismissing the page, bade the steward proceed with the light. The party now entered a little ante-cham¬ ber, or vestibule; and on the farther side Hubert flung open a door. They then passed into a small room, the atmosphere of which was laden with perfume that ex¬ haled from Turkish pastiles burning in a silver censer; and Rodolph instantly com¬ prehended that this had been done by Hu¬ bert to neutralize the damp and disagreea¬ ble odor which necessarily prevailed in a place so long shut up and uninhabited — The furniture in this room was massive and of a very antique fashion ; but it had been hastily dusted and cleansed, and cushions from another apartment had been substitu¬ ted for the old ontti which had rotted on the 6eats of the chairs. Traversing this ante-chamber, Hubert led the way into a spacious apartment, which had likewise been furbished up as well as the short interval allowed for the purpose would permit. Fresh drapery, and the mat¬ tresses and clean linen for the bed—cu>h- ions for the chairs—a large velvet cloth spread on the floor—a neatly arranged toi¬ let-table—und several ornaments placed on the massive mantel, which projected at least three feet from the wall—these were the principal changes and arrangements made to give an air of comfort to the State Chamber; and as the perfume of the pas¬ tiles penetrated from the adjoining room, the atmosphere was completely imbued with that powerful odor. Hubert placed the lamp upon the table— bowed, and retired ; but as he crossed the threshold, the deep sigh which rose from his bosom fell upon Rodolph’s ear. The young nobleman had however gone too far to retract, even if he were thus inclined: and wishing his guest a good night’s repose, he departed to his own chamber. CHAPTER III. \ THE MYSTERIES OF ALTENDORF CASTLE. When thus left alone, Sir Ernest de Col¬ mar was about to lay aside his apparel and seek the slumber which he so much need¬ ed after his long journey ; but it suddenly struck him, as he glanced around, that the apartment wore a most sombre, gloomy, and antiquated aspect, in spite of the varied arrangements which we have already men¬ tioned, and which were intended to give it an air of comfort. At the same instant he remembered that the room must be situated at a very considerable distance from that portion of the building in which he had passed the evening with Lord Rodolph; and several appearances which now met Ins eyes, served to convince him that the chamber had long been disused, and had undergone certain hasty improvements for the present occasion. For the wails were hung with tapestry, wh.ch in many places was in perfect rags the floor had rotted in several parts, and gave way to the tread of the feetrUhe ceiling, although it had been well swept, was discolored with the damp and broken hot 1 t,T° f hC c ° rners ; and the furniture, though heavy and massive, was ricketty at decay 113 * 8 a " d " rorm - eaten almost to utter . Wondering that he should have been con- cgned to such an apartment, the grander R M ! a 0On whero h0 ha d supped with Rodolph having given promise of corres¬ ponding comfort and accommodation in the THE BBONZE STATUE. 11 other rooms of the Castle, Sir Ernest de Colmar was induced by curiosity to take closer survey of his chamber. R using.the , tapestry, lie found that it actually crumbled , like scorched rags in his hands, leaving I nevertheless a clammy sensation ot slimy dampness; and an inspection of the wain ecottmg behind showed bun now dilapida¬ ted all that wood-work had become. Our rents of air poured through the gaping panels, which in many pans were green with a fetid moisture, and an others Were black with accumulated dust. Suddenly a reminiscence flashed to ms rnind.^ Had not Wildon the forest-keeper informed him mat the right wing of Alten- dorf Castle hud been shut up for many veur8 y—and did not this apartment bear every indication of one which long disuse had consigned to the ravages of decay ' Startled by ihese reflections, and deter¬ mined to clear up all doubt as to the point which they involved, Sir Ernest approached one of the windows, which, having been hastily cleansed, were besmeared with the dirt that there was not time » thoroughly. The casement to which he thus advanced, was consequently so obscured that he could see nothing outside: but, ut¬ ter some trouble, and by the ass.sUt.iceo his poniard in removing the well rusted fastening, he was enabled to open tt. The night was one of continued moon-*' 1 splendor; and the moat gave back to the deep purple sky the silver lustre and the image ot the chaste queen of heaven. But all uncertainty as to the position o De Colmar's chamber was cleared up in a moment; for, as he gazed forth fioin the window, the bridge communicating with the entrance under the central tower was on the left ; and he was therefore in the right wing of the castle 1 ^Moreover, at a short distance on his ri B ht hand, the forest-trees stretched dos^ up to the edifice in that direction; and thus had he succeeded in satisfying himself that he was really an inmate ot ihe very po Uon o the building where strange sights were said to have been viewed and preternatural noises heard. . , For an instant aco'd and mysterious tre- mor crept over Sir Ernest; but drawing himself proudly up to his full height, an shaking off the superstitious awe that had begun to steal into his breast, he exclaimed aloud, ‘Th’s feeling is unworthy of me God renders not the night hideous and ter- rible to the innocent i’ And he was about to close the casement, when he suddenly caught a something white moving slowly amidst the trees that stretched towards the extremity of the right wing of the Castle. Arm in did a chill pass over him: nnd, rooted to the spot, ho kept his eyes fixed upon that object— or rather followed it with his looks as it passed gradually on through the maze of foliage, deeper into the forest. It appeured to proceeu wuh measured steps-never once halting, nor turning aside, nor accelerating its pace: like a spectre did it seem to move slowly amidst the trees—un'il it suddenly vanished, as it the earth had swallowed it up, or as if it lmd melted all in a moment into linn air. The Knight stood gazing for nearly a minute upon tl’e spot where it had thus disappeared ; and when, with a start, ho turned aside from the window, he felt that he was perspiring at every pore. In a battle a braver man than Sir Ernest de Colmar never couched lance; and this was the first time in his life that he had experienced the influence of superstitious awe^ But he could not conceal from him¬ self that the object he had just seen had fir the time unnerved hun—had drenched his brow with the big drops of terror—and lmd caused his ample chest to remain up- heaved with the suspended breath. But now, with a cheeK flushing through indignation at having given away to that mysterious awe, the Knight closed the casement and resolved to seek his couch. First, however, he visited the adjacent chamber, in order to extinguish the pastiles, the peifume of which was overpowering; and, having done this, he passed into the vesubule to assure liims If that the door leading into the passage was closed. Ho found that it was shut; and he drew the rusty bolts to make it secure—for the cir¬ cumstance of Lord Rod >lph having con¬ signed him to that long unoccupied por¬ tion of the building, had created in his breast va<*ue suspicious that some treach¬ ery might 3 be meditated, though for what purpose he was at a loss o conceive. lie was retracing his steps into the sleeping-chamber, when it struck him th t he would only be acting with the proper precaution if he were to ascertain whether there were any other mode of entrance into his suite of apartments, besides the outer door which he had just fastened. Having the lamp in his hand, he carefully examined the vestibule, which was sur¬ rounded with the wamscotting, and decay¬ ed and crumbling. Thrusting Ins poniard in various places through the broken wood¬ work, he encountered the solid wall only ; and thus fir satisfied, he passed into the middle chamber. This room was likewise wuniscotted; and here again the point ot the weapon was resisted by the masonry behind the panels, on each occasion that the Knight sounded the depths of the fas- 12 THE BRONZE STATUE. sures which Time had made in the carved wood-work. No secret door, therefore, ap¬ peared to exist in either the vestibule of this room. Sir Ernest de Colmar now re-entered the large, sombre, and dilapidated sleeping- chamber ; and, raising the tapestry, he used his dagger on the wainscot in.the same way as he had done in the other apart¬ ments. The result was equolly satisfac¬ tory so far as he pursued his investigation ; but he knew not hew to deal with that portion of the wall against in which the bed lead stood. For the head of the couch was of thick carved oak, rising almost to the cealing, and forming at the top of the canopy whence the drapery had descended. But being resolved not to leave a single precaution unadopted, in case treachery should be intended, Sir Ernest succeeded, by dint of all his strength, in moving away the bedstead in sucli a manner that he could pass behind the solid head; and, lifting the tapestry, he thrust his poinard through several fissures in the wainscot. At first the weapon encountered only the wall: but at last its point entered some¬ thing mnde of wood. The Knight fetched the lamp from the table where he had deposited it, and com¬ menced a keen scrutiny of the wainscot. .In a few moments he discovered a small round piece of iron set in the corner of a panel, and having the appearance of the head of a naii. Suspecting that it might have connexion with a secret spring, he pressed it hard with his thumbs; and the panel gave way, opening towards him to a distance of two or three inches. Had not the hinges been eaten with rust and clogged with dirt, the panel would have doubtless flown wide open by the mere force of the spring which thus set it tree. However, De Colmar easily opened it; and the aperture, which was five feet high, and two and a half in width, revealed a door of similar size set in the solid ma¬ sonry. With a strange and mysterious presenti¬ ment that he was about to fathom some wild arm romantic secret bearing reference to the right wing of the Castle of A hen- dor V-and beginning to put some faith in the rumors which appeared to be current concerning that part of the old feudal structure, though more than ever bewild¬ ered in respect to the motives which could have induced Lord Rodolph to lodge him in that chamber,—Sir Ernest de Colmar now examined this inner door with a rigid scrutiny. But as it was covered with the mildew of damp, he tore off a piece of the rotting tapestry, and therewith cleaned it somewhat. The result of this proceeding was the discovery of a small object shaped like the head of a nail, and resembling that which he had found in the panel. By pressing hard upon the iron, the door gave way—and the Knight thrust it com¬ pletely open: but so powerful a current of air immediately rushed from the aperture, that his lamp was nearly extinguished. He however shaded the light with his hand in time to save it; and, waiting till the gust bad subdued, he continued bis survey of the place. The open door revealed the head of a flight of steps which Sir Ernest unhesitat¬ ingly began to descend. The steps were of stone; and, although slippery with the damp, they were>£rni and solid in their setting. Protecting the lamp, the Knight passed gradually down to a considerable distance : when he found his way suddenly barred by a door. This however yielded, on the bolt that held it being drawn back ; and Sir Ernest now continued his way along a vaulted passage, very narrow and so low that he was compelled to stoop his head. The sides, the arching roof, and the floor were of solid masonry ;—and when Sir Ernest calculated the direction in which this tomb-like passage ran, on considering it in reference to the position of the flight of stone steps which he had descended, he felt certain that it must have been formed in the thick wall overlooking the moat. Carefully shading his lamp, and proceed¬ ing with caution, the Knight advanced about a hundred paces, when he was ab¬ ruptly stopped by a dead wall which seem¬ ed to arrest his progress altogether. But in another moment he became aware that the passage merely turned off suddenly to the right; and he pursued his way till he reached another door. This he opened without much difficulty; and he found that it led to a second flight of stone steps, at the bottom of which there was another long arched passage. 6 Once more was his lamp nearly extin¬ guished by a gust of wind, which came sweeping from the farther extremity of the vaulted corridor; and again did he succeed in saving the light. A distance of about a hundred paces brought him to a small circular chamber, looking like a cavern hollowed in a solid rock, so rugged and massive was the masonry. A stone cruci¬ fix, about three feet high, stood in a lonage in search of me. But what has his Highness the Duke empowered you to say to me ?’ ‘ His Highness commanded me to show you the very letter which you yourself des¬ patched to him, and which would serve as a proof that I am the representative of his Highness,’ answered l)e Colmar: then drawing forth a document from the bosom of his doublet, he said, ‘This is your writing.’ THE BRONZE STATUE. 17 ■i T* is so ’ reioined the Carthusian. “"bS CVi*» k **> * TS'S'f; ttr&SS&zz s'r‘.vs» 3ass.-AS‘S.siiA S^srsfasw-s toT undmMi •■ mud, .ito*"— each other fully at the very outeet ot ou_ SKK «p'aTn «n«ans which you s^a'sS&s*-— ^SSut ^Vc,n r y » * stranger in Bohemia,’ said Father Cyprian and therefore indebted only to flying r - reports 52 r. 7 «nS *• SkfrrftbiP country into .uch conlW ‘ Such is indeed the case,’ returned de Colmar ‘and I should esteem myself fa- Sred f’you would give me a sketch of the position of opposite^arties and con- accede to your re^ s,s oh n,“ or oT„s s „r “ss b s Constance; and John Huss being before that august tribunal, was accused o heresv The result was, as your Excellency §£Sjp§ t hu funeral pyre ; and in his very ashes, o it, the winds there seemed to ex- .r" .xrS 22. tt •«? tZZZA » p*“” ' Jf y;t , ka gurnamed the One-Eyed. This fespemte .nan was the Lord Chamberlain of Wenzel, the King of Bohemia; and- • Was not Zitzka provoked by some pri- awsaass^saSt is the rumor which had reached my car A “1be!ieve there is a tale current to that -ss^. , srfl«scs cussin" trifles. Suffice it for us to know that Zitzka placed himself at the head of the Reformers, who thenceforth took the nameofTaborites: and then watchwer STTpp.T.rSS' fury or Zrt., hi. Miiiesty was a prisoner in his palace X ofPrag and the su^Smg dJ.ncts sian monastery at Prague; and.astliehig dared not openly receive a priest ot th rI.u Ch.fcMoj vffit the pll.ee ••e'en, ct ", g hi .nd,ja chi'd the Princess Elizabetha, to my charge SSSis at P r Sent nknown f ; SffiS foTmklTble Z.fzka and his ‘devoted Taborites. Thus, during the rnlcThan that of the reign of terror which J °^SimK thesis the position of Bohemia,* del ^hat e ^hi^^i^^s* U ®bo u ^b® c ®m e ^b c 18 THE BRONZE STATUE. husband of the Princess Elizabetha,’ replied the Carthusian. The Bohemian nobles would raily round the banner of a monarch who is famed throughoutChristendom for his valor, and who, by thus acquiring a right to interfere in the affairs of this distracted country, would strike terror to the hearts of Zitzka and his republican horde.’ ‘ The Princess, you say, is beautiful ?’ ob¬ served the Knight, interrogatively. ‘ Beautiful as an angel—mild, docile, and tractab.e,’ responded the Carthusian.— ‘Her deceased father's will entrusts me with the sole guardianship of this charming creature.’ ‘ And provided that, in consequence of any favorable report which I may be in¬ duced to make to my illustrious master,’ said De Colmar, ‘ his Highness shall accede to your views,—and grantingthat the Princess shall have no objection to the matrimonial scheme which your Excellency has devised, —in this case, what is the recompense you demand for your aid and services ?’ ‘To your Excellency, as the represent¬ ative of the mighty Duke of Austria, shall l unbosom myself with candor and frank¬ ness,’ answered the priest. ‘ Of all the Sovereigns of Europe have I selected your master as the most worthy to secure that prize which I have in my keeping.— Through me, he may become the husband of the loveliest and richest Princess in Christendom ; and, by espousing her, he places on his head the Bohemian crown.— Having secured this high, enviable, and proud posi'ion, what is to prevent him from entertaining a loftier ambition still ? For Sigismund, the reigning Emperor of Ger¬ many, is old and childless: and were it possible to find a more fitting and eligible aspirant to the imperial purple than* in ^he man who shall already wear the united dia¬ dems of ducal Austria an I royal Bohemia? Mark well, then, Sir Knight, that in raising your illustrious master to the throne at Prague, I at once place him oh the high road to that still more glorious throne which cx stsat Aix-la-Chapelle.’ We must remind our readers that at the period of which we ,are writing, Germany was split into a number of States, as at the present day; but that the entire confedera¬ tion was governed by an Emperor, chosen by election, and the seat of whose imperi¬ al government was Aix-la-Chapelle. In those firms the Emperor of Austria existtd not: Vienna was only the capital of a duchy ;—while Hungary and Bohemia were independent kingdoms. These remarks will fully explain the force of Father Cyp¬ rian’s reasoning, the strength of which was immediately comprehended by Sir Ernest de Colmar. ‘ I understand you,’ said the Knight.— ‘ You foresee that you will be rendering vast services to the Duke of Austria, and you require a commensurate reward.’ 4 Such is the proper light wherein to view the matter,’ answered the Carthusian : then, as his really fine countenance became sud¬ denly animated with the glow of his heart’s towering ambition, he exclaimed, ‘ Without me, your illustrious master can do nothing in Bohemia. He cannot even discover the retreat of the Princess Elizabetha—nor obtain the slightest clue to the spot where her vast fortune is deposited. To me, then, must he be indebted for everything, bride— treasures—throne ! And in return ! de¬ mand the Archbishopric of Prague, with a written understanding that my cause shall be supported when the day comes on which I may 6tand forward as a candidate for the Popedom.’ Sir Ernest btarted involuntarily as he sur¬ veyed the ecclesiastic whose soaring imagi¬ nation had formed, and whose bold tongue had expressed, these colossal hopes; and he could not help thinking how .-trongly the Carthusian’s adventurous mind contrast¬ ed with that garb of almost mendicant sim¬ plicity, and with that modest rosary and hu¬ miliating scourge. ‘If you deem me presuptuous, Sir Knight, said the priest, haughtily, ‘ our conference is at an end.’ ‘ I crave your pardon, worthy friar, if by look or manner, I have given offence,’ re¬ turned De Colmar: ‘ but I must frankly ad¬ mit that your demands have somewhat star¬ tled me. Nevertheless, they are not alto¬ gether out of proportion with the services you may render my master. You help him to ascend the throne of Bohemia, with that of all Germany in perspective: and it is perhaps only fair that he should promote you to an Archbishopric, which may lead you to the seat of Sovereign Pontiff Thus far, then, do I accept your proposals on be¬ half of Albert Duke - of Austria, whose plenipotentiary I am. But it is absolutely necessary that 1 should he presented to the 1 rincess E izabetha: for 1 unhesitatingly and emphatically declare to your Rever¬ ence that my master is of too honorable a disposition to lead that fair young orphan to the altar without her full concurrence and complete assent.’ ‘ Jl be as you say, Sir Knight,’ an¬ swered the Carthusian. ‘We will meet again at Prague four days hence ; and yonr Excellency shall then be honored by an in¬ terview with the most lovely Princess in Christendom. Rest well assured that if there be aught of the poetical in your dis¬ position, no mean scope for the exercise of that genius will be afforded by the descrip- THE BRONZE STATUE. 19 tion which you must send of Elizabeth’s charms to the Duke of Austria.’ ‘ Be satisfied that I shall do ample justice to the merits of her Royal Highness,’ res ponded De Colmar. ‘ And now, reverend father, in which diiection lies your route?’ ‘Not by the main road,’ answered the priest: ‘for it were dangerous for one in my garb to faU in with Zitka and his repub¬ lican rabble,* he added bitterly. * We shall meet at Prague, Sir Knight: till then farewell.’ Thus speaking, the Carthusian rose from the verdant bank—drew the cowl over his features—and, striking into one of the bye- paths diverging from the point where the chapel stood, was speedily lost to De Col¬ mar’s view. CHAPTER VI. ZITKVS ENCAMPMENT. It was about seven o’clock in the even¬ ing, when the Knight a>;d nis two pages were suddenly challenged by an armed man, who was evidently performing the duty of a sentinel on the border of a wood the outskirts of which the travellers had now reached. «Who are ye ? and wither are ye going, worthy strangers?’ demanded the soldier. ‘My name is Ernest de Colmar—my rank is that of knighthood—and I am journeying to Prague,’ was the prompt re¬ ply. ‘ These boys are my attendants. But if, as I suspect, the renowned Zitzka is en¬ camped in this neighborhood, I would fain hold some conversation with him ere I con¬ tinue my route.’ ‘ Your request, Sir Knight,’ returned the sentinel, ‘ is the more easily granted, inas¬ much as I could not very well have permit¬ ted you to pursue your path without first introducing your Excellency to the pre¬ sence of the Captain-General.’ While the soldier was still speaking, about a dozen of his comrades, all armed to the teeth, emerged from the wood. Three or four of them accosted the Knight, and his pages in a respectful manner; and, having assisted them to dismount led away their horses with an intimation that the ani¬ mals should be properly cared for. One of the Taborites—for by this name was Zitz- ka’s band known—then volunteered to con¬ duct the travellers to the head-quarters of the chief; and De Colmar, attended by Lionel and Konrad, accordingly followed the man through the mazes of the wood, until they reached a vast open space cover¬ ed with tents and pavilions of all shapes and sizes. The scene was at once striking and pic¬ turesque. Surrounded by the natural dra¬ pery of the wood, which was clothed in its brightest emerald garb, the encampment presented a spectacle of patriarchal simpli¬ city mingled with a warlike aspect: for those temporary dwellings were of the rudest construction—and the repasts, at which the hardy Taborites and their fami¬ lies were seated, consisted of the most fru¬ gal fare. Moreover, many of the women were clad in the scantiest raiment; noton account of a real want of necessary cloth¬ ing ; but because they songht to emulate the primitive manners and customs of the earliest ages of the world. The half-naked forms of these females, some of whom were of striking beauty, contrasted strangely with the appearance of their fathers, hus¬ bands, or brothers, who were all attired in substantial garments and were fully equip¬ ped with corselets, helmets, and the various offensive weapons then in vogue. Through this wild scene did Sir Ernest and his pages follow their guide ; until they reached a spot in the centre of the encamp¬ ment, where several persons were reclining on the verdant grass, in front of a pavilion larger and more imposing than the numer¬ ous tents by which it was surrounded. But amidst tnis group of loungers there was one being on whom the looks of the Knight and his pages immediately rested with a feeling of admiration which they could neither subdue nor conceal. The object of attraction was a female of the most ravishing beauty. Her complexion was of a deep olive— dark as that of a Spaniard; but so pure, clear, and transparent, that all the richness of its glowing lints shone through the po¬ lished skin. The liveliest carnation shed its bloom upon her cheeks: the brightest scarlet lent its hue to her lips. Her fore¬ head was grandly beautiful,—high—broad, and so smooth and spotless that it would have seemed to belong to a statue, had not intellect sat enthroned thereon as a glory surrounds the brow of an angel. But the eyes—never did more splendid orbs shine from the heaven of a lovely wo¬ man’s countenance ! Dark os night and deep as an unfathomable abyss, they seem¬ ed to concentrate all the glory of the sun, moon, and stars. To say that they glisten¬ ed like diamonds, were to convey but a feeble idea of their almost supernatural power. For they shone with a steady— burning—dazzling lustre, as if formed of condensed light. The impression which they made upon the mind, when first gazed upon, was that they were eyes which could v:o THE BRONZE STATUE. see and be seen even in the midst of the blackest night. The whole n s was so dark as to leave the pupil undefined: or rather, each orb seemed one large, Jack, bat glowing pupil. There was something fierce and wild ^ these eyes of supernal brilliancy and por tentous magnificence: but their expression was subdued into a more feminine beauty, if not into actual softness, by the unusual length, thickness, and jetty blackness of the lashes, which slightly curling marked the edges of the eye-lids, from corner to corner, with streaks so dark that they miti¬ gated the otherwise overwhelming power of the eye themselves. And these superb orbs were set in whites delicately tinted with a bluish shade, and so pure and stainless that not even a vein slight as a gossamer thread was apparent there. The brows arched nobly and were deeply pencilled : but as there was even more than the usual distance between them, their decided lines impaired not the .grandeur of that radiant countenance. The nose was perfectly straight, with ■ nostrils of the rose-leaf hue: the upper lip was short—thus giving a slight expression of haughtiness to the face, and adding to the dazzling effect of the magnificent eyes ; the teeth were white and pure as pearls, and faultlessly even and the small, well- rounded chin completed the classical per¬ fection of these glorious features. A flood of hair of that transcendent blackness which is darker than the raven’s wing, and yet so glossy that it shines as with a supernal radiance, poured its 6ilken luxuriance over the shoulders and down the back of this being of marvellous beauty. -Never before had human head such a mag¬ nificent covering: for those flowing masses —those wanton undulations of jetty hue, shone like ebony illumined by sun-beams. The figure of this lovely creature was well rounded, without exuberance, and of the most exquisite proportions. Modelled, as by the hand of a rare perfection in sculp¬ ture’s art, her form had all the ease and grace which nature can alone confer. She was slightly above the usual stature of her sex ; and this advantage added to the dig¬ nity of her mein. Her wondrous beauty was moreover set off, if not positively heightened, by the pic¬ turesque character of her costume. Her figure gave the mould of its own perfect contours to a tight doublet, or jacket, of purple velvet, which was low in the body and had short hanging sleeves; and from this dress her neck and bust rose splendidly. Being open at the fjosom, it was laced across with scarlet ribands; and from the small loose sleeves, came those admirably modelled arms tbe flowing outlines of which were in beautiful accordance with the charms of her entire person. A crimson petticoat, reaching just below her knees, revealed all the lower part of the legs, which were robust, but faultlessly symmetrical. The long narrow feet were imprisoned in well-fitting shoes, from which various colored ribands were wound cross¬ wise round the polished limbs, almost up to the knees, in the Highland or Albanian style. No ornament had she upon her hair: its own dark glory outvied the lustre of costly gems; its own living gloss transcended the brilliancy of precious stones. But to each small, roseate, and well-folded ear, hung a pearl as large and as beautiful as those which history assigns to the toilette of Cleopatra. These pearls were the only decorations that the lovely being wore; but to her waist was suspended a long dagger, with the handle cf which her taper fingers, from time to time, played negligently. 0 By her side, upon the grass, lay a purple velvet cap, with an elegant plume of white feathers; and Sir Ernest de Colmar thought within himself that there was not a head in the universe which it would become more than the one that was already surrounded by a perfect halo of loveliness, fascination, and brilliancy. The age of this woman, so gloriously beautiful, seemed to be about nineteen or twenty; and she was evidently of rank and consideration amongst the Taborites; for two young females, in attendance upon her, were seated at n little distance, gazing upon their mistress in mingled admiration and respect. These handmaidens were both beautiful creatures: the elder was eighteen and the younger seventeen ; and they were dressed not only with neatness and simpli¬ city, but in a strict accordance with modest propriety. At a short distance from that woman, whose charms realised in Sir Ernest de Colmurs mind all the fabulous descrip¬ tions of female loveliness with which romance abounds, a grim and ferocious- looking warrior was reclining upon the green sward. He was a man apparently in his forty- fourth or forty-fifth year. Handsome he had evidently once been; but the loss of his eye—the stern expression which war¬ like habits had . iven to his features—the immense quantity of black hair which shaded his forehead and surrounded his tace, and his rude military garb—all these gave hirn an aspect of savage wildness and rendered him a being terrible to contemplate. In the same way that the beauteous woman above described had her two hand- 2r THE BRONZE STATUE. maidens in attendance, so was this grim warrior waited upon by two Taborite sol¬ diers, who appeared to watch with eager¬ ness for the slightest sign that he should make, as if it were an adored and wor¬ shipped master whom they were thus zea¬ lous to obey. Such was the group of individuals re¬ clining negligently upon the grass in front of the principal pavilion, and into whose presence Sir Ernest de Colmar was intio- duced in the manner already mentioned. Tn the one-eyed warrior he h id no difficulty in recognising the formidable and enthu¬ siastic Zitzka; but who that female so grandly beautiful might be, he had yet to learn. Having surveyed the Knight with great attention for a few moments, an expression of mingled surprise and pleasure began to appear upon Zitzka’s countenance; but instantly checking that amiable relaxation of his features, he said, 4 Who art thou, good stranger ?’ But the eyes of the Knight were fixed with admiration and amazement upon the charming creature whose exquisite form was half-reclining in so gracefully volup¬ tuous an attitude upon the soft herbage and when the Taborite chief repeated his question somewhat sharply, Sir Ernest de Colmar turned towards him with a sudden start, as if abruptly awakened from the midst of a delicious dream. ‘Who art thou, stranger?* demanded Zitzka, fixing his bright black eye search- ingly on our hero’s features. Sir Ernest mentioned his name and rank, adding that he was a native of Austria, and engaged in the service of the Sovereign Prince of that Duchy. ‘ I pray thee, be seated, Sir Knight,’ said Zitzka, in a mild and even respectful tone: then, turning towards his two com¬ panions, he exclaimed, 4 Arnold, Heinrich, bestir yourselves, and bring refreshments hither. See, too, that a flask of wine be not wanting.’ The men sprang to their feet and has¬ tened into the pavilion; while Sir Ernest de Colmar placed himself on the green sward between the grim Taborite chief and the lovely dark-skinned woman, whose eyes had scanned him rapidly but search- ingly from head to foot: and, ere those bright looks were withdrawn, they had lin¬ gered with satisfaction, fora moment,upon his handsome, frank, and noble counte¬ nance. * There is amongst us,’ said Zitzka, 4 but little of that ceremony which prevails in courtly circles and lordly halls; and it is, therefore, unnecessary for you, Sir Knight, to awnit a formal introduction to that lady on your left hand ere you venture to ad¬ dress your conversation to her. She is beautiful, you perceive, and can be as agreeable as she is lovely,’ added the Tabo¬ rite chief, suffering his features to relax for a moment into a grim smile: then, after a few instants’ pause, during which Sir Er¬ nest de Colmar had made a low bow to the lady, who returned it with a grac^fc*l incli¬ nation of the head, Zitzka observed, 4 1 may as well inform your Excellency that she is no relation of mine—nor is she even a na¬ tive of my own Bohemia. But I love her as if she were my own child : she is to me as a daughter; and there is not a man in my army who would hesitate to face even the most horrible of deaths for her sake.’ 4 You doubtless come, lady, from a far-off clime,’ said Sir Ernest—‘ a clime as sunny as the light which your looks diffuse around ?’ 4 Yes; the land of my birth is where the gorgeous East decks its favorites with gems and pearls, and gold,’ answered the splen¬ did creature, in a voice of such rich and flowing melody, that it poured like an ecstatic flood of heavenly music in unto the very depths of his ravished soul. 4 From the proudest monarohs that ever swayed that oriential sceptre which is so magnifi¬ cent in its barbarism, and from the loveliest race ofhouns that ever blest the earth with charms appropriate only to the realms of paradise —from these am I descended ! And would’st thou know my name, Sir Knight demanded this being, as singular as she was beautiful—as mysteriously romantic as she was supernaturally lovely: then, fixing upon him all the power of those eyes, which, in their velvet blackness, concen¬ trated the burning, dazzling, overwhelming light of a myriad lamps, she said, with an almost wild significancy, 4 My name is Sa- tanais.’ Sir Ernest de Colmar started, as this# name, so ominous and terrible, struck his ear: but, instantly recovering himself, he observed with a smile, 4 I have a sufficient acquaintance with the Mohammedan creed —having borne my part in battle against the Turks—to know that the name which you have mentioned, charming lady, means ‘ The Child of Satan: But it can scarcely belong to you; for were your personal ap¬ pearance to suggest your name, it should be ‘ The Daughter of an JingeV ‘ 1 thank you for the compliment, Sir Knight,’ said the lady, in a grave tone; and a 3 she cast down her eyes at the same moment that she spoke, it seemed to De Colmar as if a powerful light, hitherto streaming upon his countenance, were sud¬ denly withdrawn. 4 Nevertheless,’ she* added, at the expiration of a few moments* 22 THE BRONZE STATUE. I and raising her looks once more, 4 my name is Safanais, dark and ominous though its meaning be.’ ‘ She speaks truly,’ observed Zitzka, in a low tone, to the Knight: 4 her name is Sa- tanais—but whence she obtained it, or why it was conferred upon her, is one of the many mysteries that make up the sum total of the wild and almost incredible romance which constitutes the history of her life.’ ‘ You interest me strangely in this being whom all circumstances—beauty, name, nation, and history—combine to invest with a species of supernatural attraction,’ said the Knight, also speaking in a low whisper. ‘ An invisible but witching halo appears to surround her: she seems to dwell within a magic circle, which her own ra¬ diant presence fills with light, but which, nevertheless, presents an adamantine bar¬ rier against every effort which imagination may exert, or which conjecture may make, in order to penetrate the wild mystery that thus envelopes her.’ ‘ And from my lips will your Excellency glean nothing with regard to Satanais,’ rejoined Zitzka, in a tone of remonstrance, as if De Colmar were seel ing to know too much for one who was a complete stranger. ‘ I demand your pardon, General,’ said the Knight, with a manly frankness, which instantly brought a good-humored smile to the countenance of the Taborite chief: 4 it was wrong—nay, even insolent on my part—to press you with my queries, seeing that this is the first time we have ever met.’ While he was thus speaking, Zitzka’s two personal attendants, Arnold and Hein¬ rich, re-appeared from the pavilion; and they speedily spread upon the grass the provisions and wine with which they were laden. The sun was now setting behind the western hills, and the shades of evening were gradually acquiring an increased power. But even through the semi-obscu¬ rity of twilight did the splendid eyes ot Satanais glow and burn with a supernatural lustre ; and the deeper grew the dusky sha¬ dows in the midst of the wood, the more fre¬ quently did the mysterious creature seem to fix those shining orbs upon the counte¬ nance of the Knight: yet, whenever some instinctive impulse told him that she was thus gazing upon him, and made him glance rapidly towards her, her eyes were invariably withdrawn instantaneously. The repast was partaken of by Zitzka, Sir Ernest de Colmar, his two pages, and the handmaidens of Satanais, Arnold and Heinrich performing the part of servitors. The Taborite chief ate only bread and dried I fruits, and drank naught save water; but Satanais quaffed the sj arkling wine, which Sir Ernest de Colmar courteously poured out and gallantly presented to her; and as p he gave him back the cup, it struck him that her taper fingers touched his hand otherwise and in a more lingering manner than as if through pure accident. At the same instant, through the darkness which had by this time deepened considerably, shone those glorious eyes with a supernal dazzling, and bewildering light. At length the meal was ended; and Zitzka, rising from his seat upon the ground, said, 4 It is the hour for retiring to rest, after the fatigues of the day. Behold ! the good Taborites have withdrawn to their tents—silence prevails throughout the en¬ campment.’ While Zitzka was thus speaking, Sir Erne st de Colmar proffered his iiand to Sa¬ tanais, to assist her to rise from the sward, on which the dews—those pearly tears of night—were now settling; but, light a 3 a fa wn, she sprang upon her feet, and, plac¬ ing the plumed cap upon her head, threw over her polished shoulders a rich velvet scarf, which one of her handmaidens pre- oented to her. 4 May all good genii attend upon your repose. Sir Knight,’ she said: then, ap¬ proaching Zitzka, the beautiful creature folded her arms meekly across her bosom, cast down her looks, and awaited his bles¬ sing. The moon shone forth from the deep blue arch of heaven ; and its silver rays illumined this picturesque scene, bringing out into strong relief the tall, martial, and°grim form of the Taborite chief, as he extended his hands over the slightly inclining head of that glorious creature, and in a low but im¬ pressive tone invoked all the bounties of Providence in her behalf: then, gently touching her high and noble forehead with his lips, Zitzka exclaimed in a louder voice, 4 J bless thee, Santanais, and I adjure the spirit of the murdered Huss to watch over thy slumbers and defend thee from evil!’ The lady made a low obeisance ; aud as she raised her head again, it struck the Knight that her superb eyes glanced rapidly towards himself. But at the next moment she turned away—and, attended by her handmaidens, passed along the side of the great pavilion without entering it, and plunged into the deep recesses of the wood. Zitzka now conducted Sir Ernest de Col¬ mar to a tent which was divided into two compartments each fitted up with a due re¬ gard to comfort The Knight took pos¬ session of one division - his pages of the other: and when the Taborite chief had retired to his own pavilion, Sir Ernest, THE BRONZE STATUE. 23 seating himself on the couch which had beeh prepared for his accommodation, fell into a train of wild and bewildering con¬ jectures with regard to the magnificent Sa- tanais. CHAPTER VII. fresh MYSTERIES. No wonder was it that the thoughts of Sir Ernest de Colmar should be thus centred in the contemplation of that image which seemed to be an impression left upon his mind by a delicious dream, rather than the reflex of a reality. For a loveliness of eo extraordinary a nature, combined with such a profound and romantic mysterious¬ ness of name, nation, and character, could not fail to excite a vivid interest in the breast of any one who wa3 brought for the first time in contact with that earthly houri. That she was no relation of Zitzka, had been positively asserted: but that the Ta- borite chief looked upon her in the same light as if she were a well-beloved daugh¬ ter, was as pointedly declared. Sir Ernest de Colmar appreciated all the delicacy of this latter intimation which Zitzka had con¬ veyed to his ear : it was a homage render¬ ed to the fair fame of Satanais—it was an averment seasonably made to annihilate at the very outset any suspicion which might be engendered detrimental to the lady’s ho¬ nor. ^Equivocal as her presence in the Ta- borite encampment had for a moment ap¬ peared to Sir Ernest, he was speedily en¬ lightened on that head; and the honest, frank, and unmistakable remark of Zitzka eo far proclaimed her true position inas¬ much as it showed that she was not the one-eyed chieftain’s mistress. And if any¬ thing weje wanting to confirm this intima¬ tion, the additional proof was furnished not only by the filial, confiding, and ingenuous manner in which Satanais had approached the Taborite General to receive his blessing —but also by the paternal, sincere, and un¬ affected way in which that henediction was bestowed by the grim warrior. Who, then, was the charming and dark- eyed Satanais?—for what purDose had she taken up her abode with the Taborites?— and how happened it that a creature of such celestial beauty should possess a name of such infernal origin ? To none of these queries which sprang up in his mind, could Sir Ernest de Colmar even conjecture a response : they defied all the efforts of imagination to elucidate or explain. A deep impenetrable mystery surrounded that glorious being: and the longer the Knight reflected npon her charms, her name, and her presence amongst the Taborites, the more bewildered did he become. That she was a Christian, there was every reason to imagine: for had she not received a Christian benediction ?—and did not her countenance indicate at the time that her heart was touched by the manner in which Zitzka invoked the spirit of the murdered Reformer to watch over her ? But, if she were indeed a Christian, how could she retain so singular and ominous an appellation as that which stigmatised her as the Daughter of Satan? And this circumstance seemed to the Knight to be the more bewildering, inasmuch as the Ta¬ borites, with whom she was represented to enjoy such an immense influence and by whom she was so enthusiastically beloved, were an austere, simple, pure-minded, and republican community, believing that every¬ thing primitive and natural was best, and that everything strained and artificial was pernicious and wrong. Yet so far from being shocked by the presence of one who bore the name of Satanais, the3e good Ta¬ borites (whose character Father Cyprian had malignantly aspersed by unmerited epithets) idolized and adored the mysteri oils lady, and would have perished in aven¬ ging the slightest look or the merest word that threatened her wi:h insult Such was the crowd of thoughts which swept through the brain of Sir Ernest de Colmar, as he sat upon that couch to seek the repose of which he experienced not the slightest inclination. The activity of his mind prevented him from experiencing any physical fatigue after his day’s journey. The image of Satanais sustained within him the excitement of a lively curiosity and a deep interest : and he felt a vague, mys¬ terious, and undefinable longing to know more of her—to penetrate into her history— to draw aside that veil of romance which enveloped her entire being—to bring down as it were the goddess from her high pedes¬ tal, in the hope that a nearer view would reconcile all her influence, power, and fas¬ cination with the attributes and the cir¬ cumstances of a mortal woman. And now Sir Ernest de Colmar began to ask himself whether the almost superhuman beauty of that magnificent creature had made an impression upon his heart. But he was better skilled in war and diplomacy than in love ; and his experience was great¬ er in cutting his path through the serried ranks of battle than in tracing his way amidst the roseate bowers of Venus. The dry technicalities of politicians were more familiar to his ear than the language of passion : in a word, the Knight had never as yet known what love was! 24 THE BRONZE STATUE. But now he began to fear that his soul was warming at length with the mystic fires of passion—that his heart had begun to throb beneath the strange and thrilling spell: there was a sensation of mingled restlessness, pleasure, and suspense upon him ;—and, instead of experiencing the slightest desire to seek his couch, he felt as if the fresh breeze of heaven would be more welcome to his heated brow, and the soft moonlight in the solitude of the wood better calculated to tranquillise his thoughts Under the influence of these ideas, Sir Ernest de Colmar rose from his seat—pas¬ sed through the outer division of the tent, where his two pages were already wrapt in a profound slumber—and sallied forth up¬ on the green sward. The moon was shin¬ ing gloriously upon Zitzka’s white pavilion and the surrounding encampment: every object seemed swathed in a flood of the purest silver. All was still: for in the open space where the tents were pitched, no sen¬ tinel broke the witching silence of ihe night with his measured tread. It was around the outskirts of the wood that the guards were stationed at short intervals; and their posts were too far removed from the encampment to enable them to exercise any supervision over what was passing within its precincts. Thus was it that Sir Ernest de Colmar proceeded unobserved and unchallenged across the green sward ; and, on reaching the wood, he plunged into its dense shade. But in a few moments he emerged upon a narrow pathway formed amidst the verdant labyrinth and now it suddenly struck him that it was this very same portion of the wood that Satanais and her handmaids had entered, when retiring for the night. A feeling of delicacy instantaneously prompted Sir Ernest de Colmar to retrace his steps, and either withdraw to his tent or at all events seek another direction for his solitary ramble: but scarcely had the propriety of adopting this course suggested itself when a strain of music came floating through the wood, in low—solemn—and— awe-inspiring cadence. He paused—list¬ ened—and speedily became convinced by the swelling undulations of the hnrmony that it emanated from some arched building or vaulted cavern at no great distance. At the same moment that he arrived at this conclusion, he beheld a light gleaming and growing stronger through the maze of trees; and curiosity prompted him to ad¬ vance in that direction. For his mind, being previously filled with the image of Satanais, instantly associated this charming creature with the music which still came stealing upon his ear^ ;—and he felt that if she resided in some building, there was no longer any impropriety in wandering to¬ wards her abode;—for the sense of delica¬ cy which had made him pause and prepare to turn back ere now, had sprung from the belief that a mere canvass tent was most likely the dwelling-place of herself and her handmaidens. Without farther hesitation or restraint, he therefore now pursued the narrow path¬ way, which led across a bridge over a rip¬ pling stream. As he thus went on, the music became more distinct and the light grew stronger. At length he suddenly found himself close under the wall of a building w r hich seemed to be entirely em¬ bowered by the dense foliage of the trees. From a small, deeply-set, circular window the light streamed ; and it was also from within this structure that the music flowed forth. The partial survey which Sir Ernest was thus enabled to take of the building, added to the sacred character of the harmony which swelled solemnly through the air, was sufficient to induce the Knight to be¬ lieve that it was some holy edifice: and, passing round a portion of the wall he reached a door which stood half-way open. Sir Ernest de Colmar was hesitating whether he should enter, when a rustling amongst the trees at a short distance met his ears ; and turning his eyes in the di¬ rection whence the sounds came, he beheld several lights approaching through the wood. Stepping hastily back, and conceal¬ ing himself amidst the dense foliage, he was soon enabled to perceive that a proces¬ sion of nuns, headed by their abbess and two priests, was moving slowly towards the door, the immediate vicinity of which he had just quitted. The priests, who were attired in full canonicals, carried torches in their hands; and these they extinguished on the threshold ere they entered the build- mg. The procession, consisting of the two monks and upwards of twenty nuns, defiled slowly into the church—passing) the spot where Sir Ernest de Colmar was concealed • and the moment the ecclesiastical train' with measured tread, had thus disappeared’ from his view, in louder and deeper tones swelled forth the sacred music. Conceiving that there could not be any harm in becoming a witness of whatever ceremony was about to take place,—and wondering how Roman Catholic rites could possibly be exercised within the very precincts of that wood where the Reform- ers were encamped,—Sir Ernest de Colmar pushed open the door and entered he build- mg. He found himself in a small church the aisles of which were separated from the nave by rows of thick and handsome THE BRONZE STATUE. 25 marble pillars; and in these aisles were several monuments surrounded by the sculptured (ffigies of bishops, abbots, monks, and nuns. By passing amidst these tombs, the Knight was enabled to gain the close vicin¬ ity of the chancel without being observed by any one present in the church ; and on taking his stand between two high monu¬ ments, he placed himself in such a position as to see everything that was progressing, without being seen. On the altar which stood in the chancel, several wax-lights were burning: the two riests were now stationed there ;—hnd neeling around, in a semi-circle, the nuns appeared to be absorbed in deep devotion. The majestic roll of the organ now swel¬ led beneath the vaulted roof and echoed grandly through the groined archways of the aisles: then followed a combination of the voices of the priests and the nuns changing the Te Deum in full chorus. The effect was solemnly and sublimely interest¬ ing : but the greater grew the wonder of the Knight that the votaries of the Roman Church should be allowed to perform their midnight mass within a distance of two hundred yards of Zitzka’s pavilion ! It however appeared that Sir Ernest de Colmar was destined to behold as many bewildering mysteries, within the precincts of the Taborite station, as those which had so startled and amazed him on the previous night in the Castle of Altendorf. For, as the grand music and the awe-in¬ spiring chant died slowly away, a door near the altar opened—and the formidable Zitz- ka made his appearance, leading forward a lady ciothed in virgin white and ha ing a beautiful veil over her countenance. A frown sat upon the brow of the Tabor¬ ite as he glanced from the altar to the priests—from the priests to the nuns—and then at the being of faultless form whose fair hand he held: but his cheeks became suddenly purple with rage, and his one eye shot forth fire, when the nuns began to weep bitterly—beat their bosoms—clasp their hands in anguish—and demonstrate every possible sign of a fanatic and wild gfief. 4 Where is the strayed sheep?’ demanded ; one of the priests in a loud sonorous voice. ‘Hath the Lord restored her to the sheep- fold ? or doth she blindly and perversely adhere to her resolution of following a strange shepherd ?* ‘Here is our sister! here is the strayed sheep !’ chanted forth the soft voices of the nuns in harmonious modulation, while the organ gave a faint and low accompani¬ ment of a tender expression. ‘ O guardian saints! restore the wanderer to our arms— and her sins shall be forgiven !’ The voices and the music stopped sud¬ denly ; there was an awful pause;—and the eyes of all present were fixed upon the ve ; led lady whom Zitzka had led forward to the front of the altar. The nuns extend¬ ed their arms towards her, as if imploring her to fly to them and receive a holy wel¬ come : the lips of the two priests moved in silent prayer; and the Taborite chief, in his wurlike accoutrement^, scowled upon the scene with almost a ferocious glaie in his piercing eye. How perfect were the grace and ele¬ gance which blended in that form, robed in the viigin white? The drapery intended to envelope the faultless figure, added in¬ describably to the flowing outlines of its charming symmetry ; and it struck Sir Er¬ nest de Colmar that if Satanais were to ex¬ change her picturesque garb for that simple and modest apparel, her matchless shape would exactly resemble that of the lady standing before the altar. Slowly she raises her right arm and re¬ moves the veil from ner countenance; and then her eyes sweep rapidly round the church as if to assure herself that none are present save those in the immediate vicin¬ ity of the altar. But, heavens! the eyes that were thus revealed! Oh! well might Sir Ernest de Colmar start—and no wonder that it was with difficulty he could suppress the ejacu¬ lation of surprise which rose to his lips: for the superb orbs that now shone forth in all their bnrning power, and all their radiant blackness, were ihose of Satanais! And yet it could not be! No! no! it was impossible! For the exquisite crea¬ ture who stood before that altar, was of a. complexion dazzlingly fair. Her cheeks were tinged with the softest hue of crimscre: then, as the Knight made an affirmative gesture in answer to her question, she added in a. more tremu¬ lous and timid tone, ‘On the first day of August I shuIi be there likewise; and at noon precisely 1 shall be alone on the south* rn rampart of the city.’ ‘Thanks—a thousand thanks, sweetest lady!’ murmured De Colmar, r ising her hands to his lips and imprinting a kiss upon the sofr, plump, warm flesh—a kiss which sent a thrill of extacy through his heart.— 4 At noon, on the fird of August, we shall meet ag;tin.’ Gloria darted upon him a Inok which sent beams of enchanting—witching—intoxica¬ ting tenderness in unto the deepest recess¬ es of his soul ; and, withdrawing her hand, she plunged into the profound shades of the wood. Sir Ernest de Colmar watched the white retreating dnpery until it wus no longer visible amidst the di rise foliage: then sud¬ denly awaking as it were from a deep trance, he heaved a sigh at the thought that the rad ant being had passed from his presence. Hastening to rejoin Zitzka, who was walking slowly on in advance, the Knight accompanied the Taborite chief back to the encampment, on gaining which they sepa¬ rated, the former returning to his tent, and the latter to his pavilion. CHAPTER X. THE DAUGHTER OF SATAN. Between eight and nine o’clock in the morning, breakfast was served up in Zitz- ka*s pavilion. Upon a rough table was spread the fru¬ gal hut plentiful and varied articles com¬ posing the meal: jars of honey, flagons of milk, piles of fruit, and thin cakes of wheat- en bread, were tastefully arranged upon the board, around which Satanais and her handmaidens, Sir Ernest de Colmar and his pages, and the Taborite chieftain were gathered. The beauitful Satanais sate next to the Knight, to whom she did the honors of the meal, selecting for him the ripest, finest* and most luscious fruit, and presenting it to him with a modest air of friendly cour¬ tesy which rendered her enchantingly be¬ witching. And as Sir Ernest de Colmar gazed upon her he was more than ever struck, even to bewilderment, by the mar¬ vellous resemblance existing between her¬ self and her sister Gloria: for in the color of the hair and the tint of the complexion existed the only discrepancies, marked and decided though these were. Had Satanais and Gloria been splendid statues instead of magnificent women, the beholder would have declared that they were cast in the same mould, but colored differently. For the countenance of Satanais, whe¬ ther viewed in the full face or in the pro¬ file. was shaped precisely like that of Glo¬ ria: the admirably formed head was fitted upon the proud arching neck in the same manner ;—the bust was of the same con¬ figuration—the same contours;—the arms were of the same soft and flowing outlines —the hands identical save in complexion_ ihe nails of the same almond shape and pelucid roeiness : the stature was the same to a hair’s breadth—the waist would be mea¬ sured by the same girdle to the utmost nicety! And now, moreover, when Sir Ernest de Colmar looked into the glorious depths of the eyes of Satanais, he fancied that he even traced the same expression—the same meaning, signification, feeling, and passion in those lustrous orbs—the same supernal brilliancy in their glances—the same ming¬ ling of tenderness and pride, sunny warmth and lightning vividness, voluptu¬ ous ardor and overawing power—yes_all and each the same as in the eyes of Glo¬ ria! But then the hair and complexion of Sa¬ tanais were so different to those of Gloria! As ebony was to gold, so were the jetty THE BRONZE STATUE. 35 tresses of the former to the glowing auburn curls of the latter: and the olive skin of Satanais, so rich in its tints, contrasted strangely and grandly with the brilliant white and roseate softness which mingled in the complexion of Gloria. In fine, the Child of Satan was of that dark splendor which reminds the beholder of a night re¬ fulgent witii moonbeams and the lustre of countless stars; whereas the Daughter of Glory was bright and dazzling as the sun¬ lit and unclouded morn! Such were the thoughts which swept through the brain of Sir Ernest de Colmar as he gazed upon the beauty near him. On the same side of the table with Sa¬ tanais and the Knight, sat two handmaid- ens. They have already been glanced at, when first introduced to our readers, as beautiful girls ; and we may now avail our¬ selves of the opportunity to observe that they were indeed well worthy, on the score of personal attractions, of attending upon so transcendency beautiful a mistress. The two maidens were sisters—and their style of loveliness was the same; for each possessed chesnut hair, fine blue eyes, cherry lips, pearly teeth, and a slender sylph-like shape. Good girls were they, too,—discreet, prudent, and modest; and they cherished an unbounded love, mingled with an exalted admiration, for Satanais. Indeed, this latter feeling was so highly sublimated as to amount almost to a super¬ stitious worship; and the halo of interest and mystery which surrounded the Child of Satan was enhanced, as it were, by the re¬ verential devotion and fervent attachment which the charming handmaidens manifest¬ ed towards her. The elder sister, whose name was Linda, had just completed her eighteenth year: the younger, who was called Beatrice was seventeen. Lionel and Konrad, the two pages attendant upon Sir Ernest de Colmar were nineteen; and it whs therefore natu¬ ral that they should demonstrate the most gallant courtesy towards the handmaidens. Equally natural was it th^t these amiable girls should experit nee a secret pleasure at finding themselves the object of attention on the part of two such handsome youths; they nevertheless received the marked Civi¬ lities of Lionel and Konrad with a certain coyness and bashful ness which, instead of having the effect of an awkward reserve, only interested the two young men all the more deeply in those artless, timid, and well- behaved damsels. As for Zitzka—completely recovered from the violence he had sustained on the previous night, this grun-looking but gene- ous-hearted warrior beheld without dis¬ pleasure the attention which Sir Ernest de Colmar paid to Satanais: for it was evident that the Taborite chief had conceived a great partiality for the Knight, whom he moreover treated not only with kindest hos¬ pitality but also with a marked respect. But throughout the meal not a word was uttered relative to the adventures of ihe past night; nor did Satanais once allude to Gloria. In fact, had it depended on the Child of Satan, Sir Ernest de Colmar would not, in all probability, have learnt that there was such a being as the Daugh¬ ter of Glory in existence : for the dark¬ haired sister maintained a marvellous and unaccountable silence relative to the gold¬ en-headed beauty. When the repast was concluded, Zitzka said to the Knight 4 1 trust, Sir Ernest de Colmar, that we shall be honored with your presence in our encampment for a few day 8 r > »Most happv should I be,’ returned our hero, involuntarily glancing towards Sata- nais, 4 were it in my power to accept this hospitable invitation. But circumstances imperiously compel me to continue my journey towards Prague without delay.’ Again did the Knight, yielding to that fascinating influence which the presence of Satanais threw around him like a spell, and against which it would have been useless to struggle, even if lie had made the attempt —again, we say, did he cast his looks rapid¬ ly towards her: and it struck him at the moment that she bent a slightly reproach¬ ful glance upon him, as if gently upbraid¬ ing him for the intended precipitation of his departure. But at the next moment he felt certain that this could be naught save a freaK of the fancy on his part: for, rising from her seat, and beckoning her hand¬ maidens to follow, she said, addressing her¬ self to Zitzka and the Knight, 4 We shall leave you together for the present—inas¬ much as you have doubtless some private matters for your discourse/ 4 One word, Satanais!’ exclaimed the Ta- borite chief, with a smile: ‘can you not join your persuasive eloquence to my poor powers of speech, in order to induce his Excellency to remain for a few days with U9, that he may acquire an insight into the simplicity, harmony, and tranquil hap¬ piness of our republican mode of life? Come, Satanais—repeat the invitation which I have already given, and urge it upon the acceptance of Sir Ernest de Colmar ‘If Sir Ernest de Colmar will d ign to honor U3 with his company for a few days, he may rest assured of experiencing the most cordial welcome :’—and as Satanais uttered these words in all the melting rich- ne^ of that voice which soun !ed like the vibration of a suit golden bell, her eyes 3G THE BRONZE STATUE. threw upon the Knight’s countenance a ra¬ pid and momentary