Anne of Geierstein; Or, The Maiden of the Mist. Volume 1 (of 2) Read online

  CHAPTER XVII.

  Upon the mountain's heathery side, The day's last lustre shone, And rich with many a radiant hue, Gleam'd gaily on the Rhone. SOUTHEY.

  The English merchant was now much consulted by the Swiss Commissionersin all their motions. He exhorted them to proceed with all despatch ontheir journey, so as to carry to the Duke their own account of theaffair of Brisach, and thus anticipate all rumours less favourable totheir conduct on the occasion. For this purpose Philipson recommendedthat the Deputies, dismissing their escort, whose arms and numbersmight give umbrage and suspicion, while they were too few for defence,should themselves proceed by rapid journeys on horseback towardsDijon, or wherever the Duke might chance to be for the time.

  This proposal was, however, formally resisted by the very person whohad hitherto been the most ductile of the party, and the willing echoof the Landamman's pleasure. On the present occasion, notwithstandingthat Arnold Biederman declared the advice of Philipson excellent,Nicholas Bonstetten stood in absolute and insurmountable opposition;because, having hitherto trusted to his own limbs for transportinghimself to and fro on all occasions, he could by no means bepersuaded to commit himself to the discretion of a horse. As he wasfound obstinately positive on this subject, it was finally determinedthat the two Englishmen should press forward on their journey, withsuch speed as they might, and that the elder of them should make theDuke acquainted with so much as to the capture of La Ferette as he hadhimself witnessed of the matter. The particulars which had attendedthe death of De Hagenbach, the Landamman assured him, would be sent tothe Duke by a person of confidence, whose attestation on the subjectcould not be doubted.

  This course was adopted, as Philipson expressed his confidence ofgetting an early and private audience with his grace of Burgundy.

  "My best intercession," he said, "you have a good right to reckonupon; and no one can bear more direct testimony than I can to theungovernable cruelty and rapacity of De Hagenbach, of which I had sonearly been the victim. But of his trial and execution I neither knownor can tell anything; and as Duke Charles is sure to demand whyexecution was done upon his officer without an appeal to his owntribunal, it will be well that you either provide me with such factsas you have to state, or send forward, at least, as speedily aspossible, the evidence which you have to lay before him on that mostweighty branch of the subject."

  The proposal of the merchant created some visible embarrassment on thecountenance of the Swiss, and it was with obvious hesitation thatArnold Biederman, having led him aside, addressed him in a whisper--

  "My good friend," he said, "mysteries are in general like the hatefulmists which disfigure the noblest features of nature; yet, like mists,they will sometimes intervene when we most desire their absence, whenwe most desire to be plain and explicit. The manner of De Hagenbach'sdeath you saw--we will take care that the Duke is informed of theauthority by which it was inflicted. This is all that I can at presenttell you on the subject; and let me add, that the less you speak of itwith any one, you will be the more likely to escape inconvenience."

  "Worthy Landamman," said the Englishman, "I also am by nature, andfrom the habits of my country, a hater of mysteries. Yet, such is myfirm confidence in your truth and honour, that you shall be my guidein these dark and secret transactions, even as amongst the mists andprecipices of your native land, and I rest contented in either case toplace unlimited confidence in your sagacity. Let me only recommendthat your explanation with Charles be instant, as well as clear andcandid. Such being the case, I trust my poor interest with the Dukemay be reckoned for something in your favour. Here then we part, but,as I trust, soon to meet again."

  The elder Philipson now rejoined his son, whom he directed to hirehorses, together with a guide, to conduct them with all speed to thepresence of the Duke of Burgundy. By various inquiries in the town,and especially among the soldiers of the slain De Hagenbach, they atlength learned that Charles had been of late occupied in takingpossession of Lorraine, and, being now suspicious of unfriendlydispositions on the part of the Emperor of Germany, as well as ofSigismund Duke of Austria, had drawn a considerable part of his armytogether near Strasburg, in order to be prepared against any attemptof these princes, or of the Free Imperial Cities, which mightinterfere with his course of conquest. The Duke of Burgundy, at thisperiod, well deserved his peculiar epithet of the Bold, since,surrounded by enemies, like one of the nobler animals of the chase, heyet astounded, by his stern and daring countenance, not only theprinces and states we have mentioned, but even the King of France,equally powerful, and far more politic, than himself.

  To his camp, therefore, the English travellers bent their way, eachfull of such deep and melancholy reflection as, perhaps, prevented hisbestowing much attention on the other's state of mind. They rode asmen deeply immersed in their own thoughts, and with less intercoursethan had been usual betwixt them on their former journeys. Thenobleness of the elder Philipson's nature, and his respect for theLandamman's probity, joined with gratitude for his hospitality, hadprevented him from separating his cause from that of the Swissdeputies, nor did he now repent his generosity in adhering to them.But when he recollected the nature and importance of the personalaffairs which he himself had to despatch with a proud, imperious, andirritable prince, he could not but regret the circumstances which hadinvolved his own particular mission, of so much consequence to himselfand his friends, with that of persons likely to be so highly obnoxiousto the Duke as Arnold Biederman and his companions; and, howevergrateful for the hospitality of Geierstein, he regretted,nevertheless, the circumstances which had obliged him to accept of it.

  The thoughts of Arthur were no less anxious. He found himself anewseparated from the object to which his thoughts were, almost againsthis own will, constantly returning. And this second separation hadtaken place after he had incurred an additional load of gratitude, andfound new as well as more mysterious food for his ardent imagination.How was he to reconcile the character and attributes of Anne ofGeierstein, whom he had known so gentle, candid, pure, and simple,with those of the daughter of a sage, and of an elementary spirit, towhom night was as day, and an impervious dungeon the same as the openportico of a temple? Could they be identified as the same being? or,while strictly alike in shape and lineament, was the one a tenant ofthe earth, the other only a phantom, permitted to show itself amongthose of a nature in which she did not partake? Above all, must henever see her more, or receive from her own lips an explanation of themysteries which were so awfully entwined with his recollections ofher? Such were the questions which occupied the mind of the youngertraveller, and prevented him from interrupting, or even observing, thereverie in which his father was plunged.

  Had either of the travellers been disposed to derive amusement fromthe country through which their road lay, the vicinity of the Rhinewas well qualified to afford it. The ground on the left bank of thatnoble river is indeed rather flat and tame; and the mountains ofAlsace, a ridge of which sweeps along its course, do not approach sonear as greatly to vary the level surface of the valley which dividesthem from its shores. But the broad stream itself, hurrying forwardwith dizzy rapidity, and rushing around the islets by which its courseis interrupted, is one of the most majestic spectacles in nature. Theright bank is dignified at once, and adorned, by the numerouseminences covered with wood, and interspersed with valleys, whichconstitute the district so well known by the name of the Black Forest,to which superstition attached so many terrors, and credulity such avariety of legends. Terrors, indeed, it had, of a real and existingcharacter. The old castles, seen from time to time on the banks of theriver itself, or on the ravines and large brooks which flow into it,were then no picturesque ruins, rendered interesting by the storieswhich were told about their former inhabitants, but constituted thereal and apparently impregnable strongholds of that Robber-chivalrywhom we have already frequently mentioned, and of whom, since Goethe,an author born to arouse the slumbering fame of his
country, hasdramatised the story of Goetz of Berlichingen, we have had so manyspirit-stirring tales. The danger attending the vicinity of thesefortresses was only known on the right, or German bank of the Rhine,for the breadth and depth of that noble stream effectually preventedany foray of their inhabitants from reaching Alsace. The former was inpossession of the Cities or Free Towns of the Empire, and thus thefeudal tyranny of the German lords was chiefly exerted at the expenseof their own countrymen, who, irritated and exhausted with theirrapine and oppression, were compelled to erect barriers against it, ofa nature as interesting and extraordinary as were the wrongs fromwhich they endeavoured to protect themselves.

  But the left bank of the river, over great part of which Charles ofBurgundy exercised his authority, under various characters, was underthe regular protection of the ordinary magistrates, who were supportedin the discharge of their duty by large bands of mercenary soldiers.These were maintained by Charles out of his private revenue; he, aswell as his rival Louis, and other princes of the period, havingdiscovered that the feudal system gave an inconvenient degree ofindependence to their vassals, and thinking, of course, that it wasbetter to substitute in its place a standing army, consisting of FreeCompanies, or soldiers by profession. Italy furnished most of thesebands, which composed the strength of Charles's army, at least thepart of it in which he most trusted.

  Our travellers, therefore, pursued their way by the banks of theriver, in as great a degree of security as could well be enjoyed inthat violent and distracted time, until at length the father, afterhaving eyed for some time the person whom Arthur had hired to be theirguide, suddenly asked of his son who or what the man was. Arthurreplied that he had been too eager to get a person who knew the road,and was willing to show it, to be very particular in inquiring intohis station or occupation; but that he thought, from the man'sappearance, he must be one of those itinerant ecclesiastics, whotravel through the country with relics, pardons, and other religioustrinkets, and were in general but slightly respected, excepting by thelower orders, on whom these vendors of superstitious wares were oftenaccused of practising gross deceptions.

  The man's appearance was rather that of a lay devotee, or palmer,bound on his pilgrimage to different shrines, than of a mendicantfriar, or questionary. He wore the hat, scrip, staff, and coarsedalmatic, somewhat like the military cloak of the modern hussar, whichwere used by such persons on their religious peregrinations. St.Peter's keys, rudely shaped out of some scarlet rag of cloth, appearedon the back of his mantle, placed, as heralds say, saltire wise. Thisdevotee seemed a man of fifty and upwards, well-made, and stout forhis age, with a cast of countenance which, though not positively ugly,was far from being well-favoured. There was shrewdness, and an alertexpression in his eye and actions, which made some occasional contrastwith the sanctimonious demeanour of the character he now bore. Thisdifference betwixt his dress and physiognomy was by no means uncommonamong persons of his description, many of whom embraced this mode oflife, rather to indulge roving and idle habits, than from anyreligious call.

  "Who art thou, good fellow?" said the elder Philipson; "and by whatname am I to call thee while we are fellow-travellers?"

  "Bartholomew, sir," said the man; "Brother Bartholomew--I might sayBartholomaeus, but it does not become a poor lay brother like me toaspire to the honour of a learned termination."

  "And whither does thy journey tend, good Brother Bartholomew?"

  "In whichever direction your worship chooses to travel, and to requiremy services as guide," answered the palmer; "always premising, youallow me leisure for my devotions at such holy stations as we pass onour route."

  "That is, thine own journey hath no professed or pressing object orend?" said the Englishman.

  "None, as your worship says, peculiar," said the itinerant; "or Imight rather say, that my journey, good sir, embraces so many objects,that it is matter of indifference to me which of them I accomplishfirst. My vow binds me for four years to travel from one shrine, orholy place, to another; but I am not directly tied to visit them byany precise rule of rotation."

  "That is to say, thy vow of pilgrimage does not prevent thee fromhiring thyself to wait upon travellers as their guide," repliedPhilipson.

  "If I can unite the devotion I owe to the blessed saints whose shrinesI visit, with a service rendered to a wandering fellow-creature whodesires to be directed upon his journey, I do maintain," repliedBartholomew, "that the objects are easily to be reconciled to eachother."

  "Especially as a little worldly profit may tend to cement the twoduties together, if otherwise incompatible," said Philipson.

  "It pleases your honour to say so," replied the pilgrim; "but youyourself may, if you will, derive from my good company something morethan the mere knowledge of the road in which you propose to travel. Ican make your journey more edifying by legends of the blessed saintswhose holy relics I have visited, and pleasing, by the story of thewonderful things which I have seen and heard in my travels. I canimpart to you an opportunity of providing yourself with hisHoliness's pardon, not only for the sins which you have committed,but also granting you indulgence for future errors."

  "These things are highly available doubtless," replied the merchant;"but, good Bartholomew, when I desire to speak of them, I apply to myfather confessor, to whom I have been uniformly regular in committingthe charge of my conscience, and who must be, therefore, wellacquainted with my state of mind, and best accustomed to prescribewhat its case may require."

  "Nevertheless," said Bartholomew, "I trust your worship is tooreligious a man, and too sound a Catholic, to pass any hallowedstation without endeavouring to obtain some share of the benefitswhich it is the means of dispensing to those who are ready and willingto deserve them. More especially as all men, of whatever trade anddegree, hold respect to the holy saint who patroniseth his ownmystery; so I hope you, being a merchant, will not pass the Chapel ofOur Lady of the Ferry, without making some fitting orison."

  "Friend Bartholomew," said Philipson, "I have not heard of the shrinewhich you recommend to me; and, as my business is pressing, it werebetter worth my while to make a pilgrimage hither on purpose to makemine homage at a fitter season, than to delay my journey at present.This, God willing, I will not fail to do, so that I may be heldexcused for delaying my reverence till I can pay it more respectfully,and at greater leisure."

  "May it please you not to be wroth," said the guide, "if I say thatyour behaviour in this matter is like that of a fool, who, finding atreasure by the road-side, omits to put it in his bosom and carry italong with him, proposing to return from a distance on a future day,of express purpose to fetch it."

  Philipson, something astonished at the man's pertinacity, was about toanswer hastily and angrily, but was prevented by the arrival of threestrangers, who rode hastily up from behind them.

  The foremost of these was a young female, most elegantly attired, andmounted upon a Spanish jennet, which she reined with singular graceand dexterity. She wore on her right hand such a glove as that whichwas used to carry hawks, and had a merlin perched upon it. Her headwas covered with a montero cap, and, as was frequently the custom atthe period, she wore on her face a kind of black silk vizard, whicheffectually concealed her features. Notwithstanding this disguise,Arthur Philipson's heart sprang high at the appearance of thesestrangers, for he was at once certain he recognised the matchless formof the Swiss maiden by whom his mind was so anxiously occupied. Herattendants were a falconer with his hunting-pole, and a female, bothapparently her domestics. The elder Philipson, who had no suchaccuracy of recollection as his son manifested upon the occasion, sawin the fair stranger only some dame or damsel of eminence engaged inthe amusement of hawking, and, in return to a brief salutation, merelyasked her, with suitable courtesy, as the case demanded, whether shehad spent the morning in good sport.

  "Indifferent, good friend," said the lady. "I dare not fly my hawk sonear the broad river, lest he should soar to the other side, and so Imight lose my companion. But I rec
kon on finding better game when Ihave crossed to the other side of the ferry, which we are nowapproaching."

  "Then your ladyship," said Bartholomew, "will hear mass in Hans'Chapel, and pray for your success?"

  "I were a heathen to pass the holy place without doing so," repliedthe damsel.

  "That, noble damsel, touches the point we were but now talking of,"said the guide Bartholomew; "for know, fair mistress, that I cannotpersuade this worthy gentleman how deeply the success of hisenterprise is dependent upon his obtaining the blessing of Our Lady ofthe Ferry."

  "The good man," said the young maiden, seriously, and even severely,"must know little of the Rhine. I will explain to the gentleman thepropriety of following your advice."

  She then rode close to young Philipson, and spoke in Swiss, for shehad hitherto used the German language, "Do not start, but hear me!"and the voice was that of Anne of Geierstein. "Do not, I say, besurprised--or at least show not your wonder--you are beset by dangers.On this road, especially, your business is known--your lives are laidin wait for. Cross over the river at the Ferry of the Chapel, or Hans'Ferry, as it is usually termed."

  Here the guide drew so near to them that it was impossible for her tocontinue the conversation without being overheard. At that same momenta woodcock sprang from some bushes, and the young lady threw off hermerlin in pursuit.

  "Sa ho--sa ho--wo ha!" hollowed the falconer, in a note which made thethicket ring again; and away he rode in pursuit. The elder Philipsonand the guide himself followed the chase eagerly with their eyes, soattractive was the love of that brave sport to men of all ranks. Butthe voice of the maiden was a lure, which would have summoned Arthur'sattention from matters more deeply interesting.

  "Cross the Rhine," she again repeated, "at the Ferry to Kirch-hoff, onthe other side of the river. Take your lodgings at the Golden Fleece,where you will find a guide to Strasburg. I must stay here no longer."

  So saying, the damsel raised herself in her saddle, struck her horselightly with the loose reins, and the mettled animal, alreadyimpatient at her delay, and the eager burst of its companions, flewforward at such a pace, as if he had meant to emulate the flight ofthe hawk, and of the prey he pursued. The lady and her attendants soonvanished from the sight of the travellers.

  A deep silence for some time ensued, during which Arthur studied howto communicate the warning he had received, without awakening thesuspicions of their guide. But the old man broke silence himself,saying to Bartholomew, "Put your horse into more motion, I pray you,and ride onward a few yards; I would have some private conference withmy son."

  The guide obeyed, and, as if with the purpose of showing a mind tooprofoundly occupied by heavenly matters to admit a thought concerningthose of this transitory world, he thundered forth a hymn in praise ofSt. Wendelin the Shepherd, in a strain so discordant as startled everybird from every bush by which they passed. There was never a moreunmelodious melody, whether sacred or profane, than that underprotection of which the elder Philipson thus conferred with his son.

  "Arthur," he said, "I am much convinced that this howling hypocriticalvagrant has some plot upon us; and I had well-nigh determined that thebest mode to baffle it would be to consult my own opinion, and nothis, as to our places of repose, and the direction of our journey."

  "Your judgment is correct, as usual," said his son. "I am wellconvinced of yonder man's treachery, from a whisper in which thatmaiden informed me that we ought to take the road to Strasburg, by theeastern side of the river, and for that purpose cross over to a placecalled Kirch-hoff, on the opposite bank."

  "Do you advise this, Arthur?" replied his father.

  "I will pledge my life for the faith of this young person," repliedhis son.

  "What!" said his father, "because she sits her palfrey fairly, andshows a faultless shape? Such is the reasoning of a boy--and yet myown old and cautious heart feels inclined to trust her. If our secretis known in this land, there are doubtless many who may be disposed tothink they have an interest in barring my access to the Duke ofBurgundy, even by the most violent means; and well you know that Ishould on my side hold my life equally cheap, could I discharge mineerrand at the price of laying it down. I tell thee, Arthur, that mymind reproaches me for taking hitherto over little care of insuringthe discharge of my commission, owing to the natural desire I had tokeep thee in my company. There now lie before us two ways, bothperilous and uncertain, by which we may reach the Duke's Court. We mayfollow this guide, and take the chance of his fidelity, or we mayadopt the hint of yonder damsel-errant, and cross over to the otherside of the Rhine, and again repass the river at Strasburg. Both roadsare perhaps equally perilous. I feel it my duty to diminish the riskof the miscarriage of my commission, by sending thee across to theright bank, while I pursue my proposed course upon the left. Thus, ifone of us be intercepted, the other may escape, and the importantcommission which he bears may be duly executed."

  "Alas, my father!" said Arthur, "how is it possible for me to obeyyou, when by doing so I must leave you alone, to incur so manydangers, to struggle with so many difficulties, in which my aid mightbe at least willing, though it could only be weak? Whatever befall usin these delicate and dangerous circumstances, let us at least meet itin company."

  "Arthur, my beloved son," said his father, "in parting from thee I amsplitting mine own heart in twain; but the same duty which commands usto expose our bodies to death, as peremptorily orders us not to spareour most tender affections. We must part."

  "Oh, then," replied his son, eagerly, "let me at least prevail in onepoint. Do thou, my father, cross the Rhine, and let me prosecute thejourney by the route originally proposed."

  "And why, I pray you," answered the merchant, "should I go one ofthese roads in preference to the other?"

  "Because," said Arthur eagerly. "I would warrant yonder maiden's faithwith my life."

  "Again, young man?" said his father. "And wherefore so confident inthat young maiden's faith? Is it merely from the confidence whichyouth reposes in that which is fair and pleasing, or have you hadfurther acquaintance with her than the late brief conversation withher admitted?"

  "Can I give you an answer?" replied his son. "We have been long absentfrom lands of knights and ladies, and is it not natural that we shouldgive to those who remind us of the honoured ties of chivalry andgentle blood, the instinctive credence which we refuse to such a poorwretch as this itinerant mountebank, who gains his existence bycheating, with false relics and forged legends, the poor peasantsamongst whom he travels?"

  "It is a vain imagination, Arthur," said his father; "not unbefitting,indeed, an aspirant to the honours of chivalry, who draws his ideas oflife and its occurrences from the romances of the minstrels, but toovisionary for a youth who has seen, as thou hast, how the business ofthis world is conducted. I tell thee, and thou wilt learn to know Isay truth, that around the homely board of our host the Landamman wereranged truer tongues, and more faithful hearts, than the _courpleniere_ of a monarch has to boast. Alas! the manly spirit of ancientfaith and honour has fled even from the breast of kings and knights,where, as John of France said, it ought to continue to reside aconstant inhabitant, if banished from all the rest of the world."

  "Be that as it may, dearest father," replied the younger Philipson,"I pray you to be persuaded by me; and if we must part company, let itbe by your taking the right bank of the Rhine, since I am persuaded itis the safest route."

  "And if it be the safest," said his father, with a voice of tenderreproach, "is that a reason why I should spare my own almost exhaustedthread of life, and expose thine, my dear son, which has but begun itscourse?"

  "Nay, father," answered the son with animation, "in speaking thus youdo not consider the difference of our importance to the execution ofthe purpose which you have so long entertained, and which seems now sonigh being accomplished. Think how imperfectly I might be able todischarge it, without knowledge of the Duke's person, or credentialsto gain his confidence. I might indeed repeat your words
, but thecircumstances would be wanting to attract the necessary faith, and ofconsequence, your scheme, for the success of which you have lived, andnow are willing to run the risk of death, would miscarry along withme."

  "You cannot shake my resolution," said the elder Philipson, "orpersuade me that my life is of more importance than yours. You onlyremind me that it is you, and not I, who ought to be the bearer ofthis token to the Duke of Burgundy. Should you be successful inreaching his court or camp, your possession of these gems will beneedful to attach credit to your mission; a purpose for which theywould be less necessary to me, who can refer to other circumstancesunder which I might claim credence, if it should please Heaven toleave me alone to acquit myself of this important commission, which,may Our Lady, in her mercy, forefend! Understand, therefore, that,should an opportunity occur by which you can make your way to theopposite side of the Rhine, you are to direct your journey so as againto cross to this bank at Strasburg, where you will inquire for news ofme at the Flying Stag, a hostelry in that city, which you will easilydiscover. If you hear no tidings of me at that place, you will proceedto the Duke, and deliver to him this important packet."

  Here he put into his son's hand, with as much privacy as possible, thecase containing the diamond necklace.

  "What else your duty calls on you to do," continued the elderPhilipson, "you well know; only I conjure you, let no vain inquiriesafter my fate interfere with the great duty you have there todischarge. In the meantime, prepare to bid me a sudden farewell, witha heart as bold and confident as when you went before me, andcourageously led the way amid the rocks and storms of Switzerland.Heaven was above us then, as it is over us now. Adieu, my belovedArthur! Should I wait till the moment of separation, there may be butshort time to speak the fatal word, and no eye save thine own must seethe tear which I now wipe away."

  The painful feeling which accompanied this anticipation of theirparting was so sincere on Arthur's part, as well as that of hisfather, that it did not at first occur to the former, as a source ofconsolation, that it seemed likely he might be placed under theguidance of the singular female, the memory of whom haunted him. Trueit was, that the beauty of Anne of Geierstein, as well as thestriking circumstances in which she had exhibited herself, had on thatvery morning been the principal occupation of his mind; but they werenow chased from it by the predominant recollection, that he was aboutto be separated in a moment of danger from a father so well deservingof his highest esteem and his fondest affection.

  Meanwhile, that father dashed from his eye the tear which his devotedstoicism could not suppress, and, as if afraid of softening hisresolution by indulging his parental fondness, he recalled the piousBartholomew, to demand of him how far they were from the Chapel of theFerry.

  "Little more than a mile," was the reply; and when the Englishmanrequired further information concerning the cause of its erection, hewas informed, that an old boatman and fisherman, named Hans, had longdwelt at the place, who gained a precarious livelihood by transportingtravellers and merchants from one bank of the river to the other. Themisfortune, however, of losing first one boat and then a second, inthe deep and mighty stream, with the dread inspired in travellers bythe repetition of such accidents, began to render his profession anuncertain one. Being a good Catholic, the old man's distress took adevotional turn. He began to look back on his former life, andconsider by what crimes he had deserved the misfortunes which darkenedthe evening of his days. His remorse was chiefly excited by therecollection that he had, on one occasion, when the passage waspeculiarly stormy, refused to discharge his duty as a ferryman, inorder to transport to the other shore a priest, who bore along withhim an image of the Virgin, destined for the village of Kirch-hoff,on the opposite or right bank of the Rhine. For this fault Hanssubmitted to severe penance, as he was now disposed to consider asculpable his doubt of the Virgin's power of protecting herself, herpriest, and the bark employed in her service; besides which, theoffering of a large share of his worldly goods to the church ofKirch-hoff expressed the truth of the old man's repentance. Neitherdid he ever again permit himself to interpose any delay in the journeyof men of holy Church; but all ranks of the clergy, from the mitredprelate to the barefooted friar, might at any time of day or nighthave commanded the services of him and his boat.

  While prosecuting so laudable a course of life, it became at lengththe lot of Hans to find, on the banks of the Rhine, a small image ofthe Virgin, thrown by the waves, which appeared to him exactly toresemble that which he had formerly ungraciously refused to carryacross, when under charge of the sacristan of Kirch-hoff. He placed itin the most conspicuous part of his hut, and poured out his soulbefore it in devotion, anxiously inquiring for some signal by which hemight discover whether he was to consider the arrival of her holyimage as a pledge that his offences were forgiven. In the visions ofthe night, his prayers were answered, and Our Lady, assuming the formof the image, stood by his bedside, for the purpose of telling himwherefore she had come hither.

  "My trusty servant," she said, "men of Belial have burned my dwellingat Kirch-hoff, spoiled my chapel, and thrown the sacred image whichrepresents me into the swoln Rhine, which swept me downward. Now, Ihave resolved to dwell no longer in the neighbourhood of the profanedoers of this deed, or of the cowardly vassals who dared not preventit. I am, therefore, compelled to remove my habitation, and, indespite of the opposing current, I determined to take the shore onthis side, being resolved to fix my abode with thee, my faithfulservant, that the land in which thou dwellest may be blessed, as wellas thou and thy household."

  As the vision spoke, she seemed to wring from her tresses the water inwhich they had been steeped, while her disordered dress and fatiguedappearance was that of one who has been buffeting with the waves.

  Next morning brought intelligence that, in one of the numerous feudsof that fierce period, Kirch-hoff had been sacked, the churchdestroyed, and the church treasury plundered.

  In consequence of the fisherman's vision being thus remarkablyconfirmed, Hans entirely renounced his profession; and, leaving it toyounger men to supply his place as ferryman, he converted his hut intoa rustic chapel, and he himself, taking orders, attended upon theshrine as a hermit, or daily chaplain. The figure was supposed to workmiracles, and the ferry became renowned from its being under theprotection of the Holy Image of Our Lady, and her no less holyservant.

  When Bartholomew had concluded his account of the Ferry and itsChapel, the travellers had arrived at the place itself.