Sidonia, the Sorceress (Vol. 1&2). Wilhelm Meinhold
that is the best plaster for his wounds; 'a kiss in honour brings no dishonour,' says the proverb."
However, Sidonia still hesitated, and bending down to the young man, said, "Wait, gracious Prince, until we are alone."
If the Duchess had been angry before, what was it to her rage now—"Alone! she would take good care they were never to be alone!"
Otto took no notice of this speech, probably because he saw that matters were progressing much to his liking between the Prince and his daughter; but Duke Barnim exclaimed, "How now, dearest cousin, are you going to spoil all by your prudery? You brought the girl here to cure him, and what other answer could she give? Bend thee down, Sidonia, and give him one little kiss upon the lips—I, the Prince, command thee; and see, thou needst not be ashamed, for I will set thee an example with his mother. Come, dear cousin, put off that sour face, and give me a good, hearty kiss; your son will get well the sooner for it:" but as he attempted to seize hold of her Grace, she cried out, and lifted up her hands to Heaven, lamenting in a loud voice—"Oh, evil and wicked world! may God release me from this wicked world, and lay me down this day beside my Philip in the grave!" Then weeping and wringing her hands, she left the chamber, while the old knight, and—God forgive him!—even Duke Barnim, looked after her, laughing.
"Come, Otto," said his Grace, "let us go too, and leave this pair alone; I must try and pacify my dear cousin." So they left the room, and on the way Otto opened his mind to the Duke about this love matter, and asked his Grace, would he consent to the union, if Prince Ernest, on his recovery, made honourable proposals for his daughter Sidonia.
But his Grace was right crafty, and merely answered—"Time enough to settle that, Otto, when he is recovered; but methinks you will have some trouble with his mother unless you are more civil to her; so if you desire her favour, bear yourself more humbly, I advise you, as befits a subject."
This the knight promised, and the conversation ceased, as they came up with the Duchess just then, who was waiting for them in the grand corridor. No sooner did she perceive that Sidonia was not with them than she cried out, "So my son is alone with the maiden!" and instantly despatched three pages to watch them both.
Otto had now changed his tone, and instead of retorting, thanked her Grace for the praiseworthy and Christian care she took of his daughter. He did not believe this at first, but now he saw it with his own eyes. Alas, it was too true, the world was daily growing worse and worse, and the devil haunted us with his temptations, like our own flesh and blood. Then he sighed and kissed her hand, and prayed her Grace to pardon him his former bold language—but, in truth, he had felt displeased at first to see her Grace so harsh to Sidonia, when every one else at the castle received her with rapture; but he saw now that she only meant kindly and motherly by the girl.
Then the Duke asked, her pardon for his little jest about the kissing. She knew well that he meant no harm; and also that it was not in his nature to endure any melancholy or lamentable faces around him.
So her Grace was reconciled to both, and when the Duke announced that he and the knight proposed visiting Barth [Footnote: Barth, a little town; and Eldena was at that time a richly endowed convent near Greifswald.] and Eldena, from whence they would return in a few days, to take their leave of her, she said that if her dearest son Ernest grew any better, she would have a grand battue in honour of his Highness Duke Barnim, upon their return.
Accordingly, after having amused themselves for a little fishing with the tame sea-gull, the Duke and Otto rode away, and her Grace went to the chamber of the young Prince, to keep watch there during the night. She would willingly have dismissed Sidonia, but he forbade her; and Sidonia herself declared that she would watch day and night by the bedside of the young lord. So she sat the whole night by his bed, holding his hand in hers, and told him about her journey, and how shamefully she had been smuggled away out of the castle by old Ulrich, because she would not learn the catechism; and of her anguish when the messengers arrived, and told of their young lord's illness. She was quite certain Ulrich must have given him something to cause it, as a punishment for having released her from prison, for if he could strike a maiden, it was not surprising that he would injure even his future reigning Prince to gratify his malice. It was well the old malignant creature was away now, as she was told, and if his Grace did right he would play him a trick in return, and set fire to his castle at Spantekow as soon as he was able to move.
Her Grace endured all this in silence, for her dear son's sake, though in truth her anger was terrible. The young lord, however, grew better rapidly, and the following day was even able to creep out of bed for a couple of hours, to touch the lute. And he taught Sidonia all, and placed her little fingers himself on the strings, that she might learn the better. Then, for the first time, he called for something to eat, and after that fell into a profound sleep which lasted forty-eight hours. During this time he lay like one dead, and her Grace would have tried to awaken him, but the physician prevented her. At length, when he awoke, he cried out loudly, first for Sidonia, and then for some food.
At last, to the great joy of her Grace, he was able, on the fourth day, to walk in the castle garden, and arranged to attend the hunt with his dear uncle upon his return to Wolgast. The Duke, on his arrival, rejoiced greatly to find the young lord so well, and said with his usual gay manner, "Come here, Sidonia; I have been rather unwell on the journey: come here and give me a kiss too, to make me better!" and Sidonia complied. Whereupon her Grace looked unusually sour, but said nothing, for fear of disturbing the general joy. Indeed, the whole castle was in a state of jubilee, and her Grace promised that she and her ladies would attend the hunt on the following day.
About this time the castle was troubled by a strange apparition—no other than the spectre of the serpent knight, who had been drowned some time previously. It was reported that every night the ghost entered the castle by the little water-gate, though it was kept barred and bolted, traversed the whole length of the corridor, and sunk down into the earth, just over the place where the ducal coaches and sleighs were kept.
Every one fled in terror before the ghost, and scarcely a lansquenet could be found to keep the night watch. What this spectre betokened shall be related further on in this little history, but at present I must give an account of the grand battue which took place according to her Grace's orders, and of what befell there.
CHAPTER XV.
Of the grand battue, and what the young Duke and Sidonia resolved on there.
The preparations for the hunt commenced early in the morning, and the knights and nobles assembled in the hall of fishes (so called because the walls were painted with representations of all the fishes that are indigenous to Pomerania). Here a superb breakfast was served, and pages presented water in finger-basins of silver to each of the princely personages. Then costly wines were handed round, and Duke Barnim, having filled to the brim a cup bearing the Pomeranian arms, rose up and said, "Give notice to the warder at St. Peter's." And immediately, as the great bell of the town rang out, and resounded through the castle and all over the town, his Grace gave the health of Prince Ernest, who pledged him in return. Afterwards they all descended to the courtyard, and his Grace entered the ducal mews himself, to select a horse for the day. Now these mews were of such wonderful beauty, that I must needs append a description of them here.
First there was a grand portico, and within a corridor with ranges of pillars on each side, round which were hung antlers and horns of all the animals of the chase. This led to the pond with the island in the centre, where the bear was kept, as I have already described. When Duke Barnim and the old knight emerged from the portico to enter the stable, they were met by Johann Appelmann, the chief equerry, who spread before the feet of his Highness a scarlet horse-cloth, embroidered with the ducal arms, whereon he laid a brush and a riding-whip; and then demanded his Trinkgeld.
On entering, they observed numerous stalls filled with Pomeranian, Hungarian, Frisian, Danish, and Turkish horses—each race by itself, and each horse standing ready saddled and bridled since the morning. Item, all along the