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THE BRANCH OF ROSE S.

(1308.)

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF MME. EVELINE RIBBECOURT, BY MRS. ANNE F. LAW.

CHAPTER I.

THE gleeful sound which attends a wedding awoke the slumbering echoes of the valley of Urseven. The relatives and friends pass, two by two, along the narrow road which winds between the rocks, and regard with great satisfaction the newly-married pair, who, seeking for solitude, have urged on their horses, and are far in advance of the cavalcade. The hand of Hedwige is clasped in that of her husband; Rodolph leans gently towards her, guiding with care the steps of the little jennet, almost as white as snow, and which seemed proud of its lovely burden. Occasionally, the evening wind-playing with the bride's veil, and lifting it aside-discovers well-defined features; eyes blue as the azure billows of the lake; and luxuriant hair, which was still crowned with the nuptial wreath. Rodolph regarded with delight this gentle being, whose visage reflected only goodness and innocence, and pressed with great tenderness the little hand which had been given him at the altar. He eagerly quaffed this cup of human felicity, and often repeated, "How much I love you, and how happy I am!"

Hedwige, with feminine timidity, enjoyed, in the recesses of her bosom, a happiness not the less vividly felt. Rodolph de Wart was the handsomest, the most valiant, and the most loyal of the Swiss chevaliers. Truly noble, he was gentle towards the weak, and unbending to the powerful. If manly qualities were displayed upon his forehead and in his eyes, his mouth was embellished with an amiable smile; and his voice, so strong in the battle-field, when with women softened to those accents which penetrate the heart. He was rich and honored; and he could boast of a line of illustrious ancestry. His future was filled with brilliant hopes. Such was the husband of Hedwige-the happy Hedwige-who, beneath the eyes of her mother, and at the side of her beloved, did not believe that earth could offer felicity equal to hers. All around seemed in harmony with the sentiments of her soul; no cloud obscured the splendid blue of the heavens; the evening star appeared like a lighthouse placed in the midst of a dark forest of fir-trees. The descending pathway discovered to the eyes of the travellers a fertile vale, rich in pastures, which were enamelled by some rustic dwellings, and around which rose, in an amphitheatre, stern mountains. On one side appeared granite rocks, and on the other lively verdure. In the hori

zon, blending with the sky, rose the glaciers with sullen and silent dignity. They had lost the brilliant hues with which the sun paints them when bidding farewell; and, immovable and livid, one could imagine them an army of giant phantoms. But not towards these were the eyes of Hedwige turned. She sought-through the gauze veil with which evening dressed the valley-the cherished home of which her betrothed had so often spoken. At last, at a turn of the road, Rodolph again pressed the hand he held, and said, with a voice full of emotion, "Dear Hedwige, there is the tower of Wart; there is our dwelling."

Hedwige suspended the steps of her horse; she cast her eyes, wet with tears, on the tower which, with austere aspect, defended the borders of the little vale, and greeted it with tenderness. What young maiden does not cherish with true affection the abode of which a husband renders her the mistress! the roof to which she brings happiness in exchange for love! the walls which behold her a wife and a mother, and where, each day, invested with a mild sovereignty, she causes to reign paramount peace, order, and joy!

Some such ideas doubtless entered the thoughts of Hedwige, for she said, with emotion"That is, then, your home; your mother's home! May we live there happy and blest!"

"With you, where would I not be happy? Where you are, what blessing can be missing?" "Ah! dear Rodolph, to obtain this, invoke the aid of God. He alone can dispense happiness." "True, true! Since he has given me my cherished bride, my grateful prayers shall never cease."

Hedwige smiled, and her eyes, raised fervently towards heaven, fell again on the earth. Rodolph was certainly contented with the expression which he found in them, for he carried to his lips, with the devotion of a pilgrim for a pious relic, the floating veil of the young girl. At this moment, they arrived at the entrance of the valley. Rodolph saluted his vassals with a courteous and joyous gesture, and they replied with the familiar cordiality of the Swiss peasants. Hedwige blushingly received their good wishes and their artless homage, and soon after, the brilliant cavalcade crossed the drawbridge of the castle of Wart, and entered the feudal court, where was gathered an eager crowd of grooms and servants. Rodolph leaped from off his horse, received Hedwige in his arms, kissed her brow, and pro

claimed her lady and mistress of the manor, and conducted her, together with his guests, into an antique saloon, where torches, fixed in monstrous horns, contended with the fading light of day. The cups circulated, gay wishes were exchanged, and the hour for repose struck on the belfry. The young couple received, on their bended knees, the blessing of Hedwige's parents, and then retired to the large chamber where so many of other generations had before reposed. The servants conducted the guests to the apartments prepared for them; then the lights grew pale, one by one, and silence succeeded to tumult. Naught was heard in the surrounding country but the plaintive song of the nightingale, the clear noise of the cricket concealed in the hay, and the murmur of the rapid tide of the Reuss, which bathed the walls of the fortress.

CHAPTER II.

THE OATH.

THE next day, towards the middle of the morning, the young spouse and their guests reunited around the substantially served breakfast-table. Delicious fish from the lakes, birds from the forest, the roebuck of the ice-banks, the savory vegetables in which Switzerland abounds, and milk, in different forms, constituted the repast. The brown beer of Germany, and wines of Burgundy, circulated round in cups of maple encircled with gold. The servants, happy in the marriage of their master, had, in order to ornament the table, placed in rustic vases large bouquets of gentian and rhododendron.

Hedwige, seated beside her mother, smiled gently at the homage of which she was the object; and sometimes she raised her drooping eyelids to her husband's face, who contemplated her with loving looks, full of the delightful idea that she was histhat no earthly power could disunite them-and that many happy days were before them, to add to the joys of their union. He lent but an absent ear to the conversation of his friends, who spake of the revolt of the three cantons; the courage of the shepherds who had just returned from pursuing the stewards of the powerful Albert of Hapsburg; and the vengeance which a man, in manners calm and simple-a hunter named Tell-had taken on the bailiff Gesler.

The chevaliers spoke with warmth, and discussed the rights of the house of Austria to the sovereignty of the valleys of Switz, of Urie, and of Unterwalden, when the door was hastily opened, and afforded entrance to a man with a sun-burnt visage, and whose dust-covered clothes announced that he had arrived from a long journey. He passed his eyes over the company, and, advancing to Rodolph, he gave him a branch of faded roses.

On seeing them, Rodolph became pale; a dreadful thought seemed to pass through his mind; and he regarded the messenger with anguish, who, speaking to him in a low tone, saluted him, and then left the room with precipitation. Rodolph remained immovable and gloomy. The roses had fallen upon the table, and the pleasure of the guests seemed to have faded like the flowers. Hedwige timidly regarded her husband, when he said, with great effort"I must leave you. I must go away."

"You must leave us? No bad news, I hope," said his father-in-law.

"What, leave my daughter! But it will not be for any length of time," said Hedwige's mother. "Rodolph, must you leave me?" And the young bride was paler than the veil which composed her headdress.

"Much as it costs me, it must be so. Perhaps my absence will not continue a long time. Dear Hedwige, calm yourself. My thoughts will ever remain with you. But-I have promised."

"Perhaps it is a service which a brother-in-arms claims?"

"Yes, my father, yes; it is a service."

"Oh, then, delay would be fatal !"

"But," said Hedwige's brother, smiling with malice, "this branch of roses, is it not rather the pledge of a fair lady, who appeals to her knight? Sister, do you not mistrust it?"

The young woman smiled, in the midst of her tears, and looked upon her husband.

"Dear Hedwige," replied he, kissing her forehead, "have you confidence in me?"

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Oh, yes; and yet there is a weight upon my heart."

'My well beloved, I will return to you soon. An oath binds me; but I will disengage myself from it. We will yet be happy."

"Oh, that it may be so!" replied she. "Farewell, Rudolph."

"Not farewell," said he, with animation, "but goodby-my friends: pray for me, and may God keep you! My Hedwige, pray for your knight!"

He left the saloon, and soon the steps of his horse were heard resounding on the drawbridge. Hedwige rushed to the window, and waved her handkerchief; but she quickly drew back, and said to her mother, with secret fright, "Oh! how pale Rodolph seems! He appears like a corpse in a coffin. Mother, is it an omen from God? Shall I never see him again?"

CHAPTER III.

THE PILGRIM.

DAYS and weeks rolled on, and the young lady of Wart, who remained alone in the manor, received no news of her husband. The weight of a frightful

sadness accumulated on her heart. The mysterious circumstances of his departure; the dull solitude of these places, where she had hoped to live with him to whom she had given her hand; the anguish which, in these troublesome times, must spring from his prolonged absence; all united to crush the soul of the sad Hedwige. She passed her days (seated in the deep recess of a window which opened upon the valley) occupied in watching the road-nearly always solitary, but occasionally animated by a goatherd collecting his flocks from the heights, or by those of a hunter who, in passing, trilled a gay measure. Her spinning-wheel rested inactive at her feet. A precious manuscript, containing the poetry of Jacques de Wart, remained open at the page in which the minstrel celebrated the beauties of spring, without the bride's feeling any anxiety to finish the portion which she had commenced. Naught fell upon her ear save the monotonous sound produced by the waves of the Reuss, even less agitated than her thoughts; and when she cast her eyes— dazzled by the broad daylight-upon the gloomy and desolate room where she dragged on her life, she felt an indescribable anguish press upon her soul. Then she prayed, and then she descended to visit the thatched cottages in the valley. But neither prayer nor charity could distract her from her ceaseless tortures. At the end of the third week, as, at the close of the day, she returned from assembling together her domestics, a valet opened the ⚫ door, and said, respectfully

"Madam, a pilgrim from Germany asks for hospitality."

"Desire him to enter," replied the lady of the manor, "and serve him with supper."

An old man entered after the valet. The cowl, drawn from his head, displayed emaciated features, upon which experience and chagrin seemed graven in deep furrows. His thin white hair formed a crown around his head-as austere as that of an anchorite of ancient days-and his dark garments descended in stiff folds to his feet, which were encased in dusty sandals. A shepherd's scrip, that contained the black bread used on his journey, was suspended from his shoulders, and he held in his hand a stick, the ferrule of which served to assist him over the rocks and the glaciers.

Hedwige received the traveller with kindness, seated him near her, and with her own hands helped him to the dishes which she thought best fitted to restore him; and, when he had finished his repast, she interrogated him as to the cause of his pilgrimage.

"Noble lady," replied he, "I come from Prussia, where the warlike chevaliers continue the crusade against the heathen. I have visited the borders of the Rhine; and have prayed at Cologne, in the stately church raised to the memory of holy kings, who, like me, were travellers on the earth. Since my entrance into Switzerland, I have deviated from

my route to go to the abbey of Einsidler, to venerate our lady of Erintes, so well known by her miracles and her powerful kindness. I hope to salute the places where Maurice and his Christian legion received at the same time death and the celestial crown. Then, passing over the Alps, I will diverge towards Rome, in order to prostrate myself on the tomb of the holy Apostles. May they grant to their servant, with the pardon of his sins, the end of his pilgrimage, and of his too-long life!"

"Good father, the days you have spent on earth seem to have overwhelmed you, and perhaps some sorrow may trouble your holy life-consecrated to prayer, and to admiration of the works of God."

"We have all our burden, madam; and the youngest, the most happy even, are bowed to the ground, struck with some secret evil."

"Alas! you speak truth! But a truce to this sad discourse. Tell me some news from the world. All noise, all rumor, expires at the feet of these mountains, and we live here as ignorant of the universe as the hermit Saint Paul in his Thebaide."

"Bless your ignorance, noble lady. The world is sullied by vice and crime; and vice extends like a fatal contagion, and all the news bears token of the malice of men."

"But still, what have you heard related on your route?"

"News which will cause both tears and blood to flow. Know, madam, that the Emperor Albertsovereign, without doubt, of this noble manor-died a few days ago."

"What! The son of the glorious Rodolphe of Hapsburg!"

"He is dead; traitorously assassinated!" "O Heaven! May God have mercy on his soul, and on that of his murderer!"

"The terrible recital of his death was transmitted to me by one of his servants, who had seen him fall without having the power to defend him. Accompanied by a numerous suite, he repaired to Rhemfield, where the empress sojourned. Wishing to pass over the Reuss-that impetuous river which also washes the walls of this castle-he entered into a barque, followed by his nephew, John of Swabia, and some other chevaliers. The rest of his train remained on the banks. The emperor landed, and crossed over a cultivated field, near some antique ruins, the remnant of a Roman city, situated in front of the Chateau of Hapsburg, the cradle of this valiant race. He believed himself in safety, surrounded by those most dear and faithful, and it was at this very moment that, by the stroke of a poniard, John of Swabia struck him in the throat. He fell; his murderers redoubled their blows, and he soon expired, bathing his own inheritance with his blood, and killed by those who, the evening before, had drunk from his cup, and were seated at the same banquet. Such was this detestable parricide. Such was the end of Albert of Hapsburg-

the elect of the holy empire, and the absolute master of so many provinces. Power will depart from his house, and his kingdom, as the Prophet has said, will be given to the four winds of heaven."

"But did no one know the motive of so criminal an action?"

"Albert was ambitious, and retained the inheritance of his nephew, who, young and ardent, desired to reign. One day John of Swabia sought his uncle, and prayed him to restore to him his dominion; but the emperor received the request with raillery, and, taking a crown of roses which lay upon a table, he pressed them upon the brow of the young man. 'To you,' said he, 'belong these childish ornaments; to us, serious occupations.' These words incensed the prince's soul; he retired, with tears in his eyes and rage in his heart. His friends partook of his anger-bound themselves together by a terrible oath-and then the death of Albert was sworn. It is said that the prince agreed with his accomplices to send to each a branch of the mock crown, when the day and place of crime had been decided."

These words, like a sword, pierced the soul of Hedwige.

"A branch of roses?" stammered she.

"Yes, madam. Thus the innocent creations of God serve as signals for murder! But it is said, Those who strike with the sword perish by the sword; and these unhappy beings will soon prove the truth of these eternal words. Agnes of Hungary advances, burning to sacrifice these murderers to her father's blood, even to their last generation. None of them have been able to flee, and the punishment has already commenced at Rheinfeld."

"It is well," said Hedwige, in a subdued voice; "it is well, good father. But the hour of repose has arrived, and a servant will now conduct you to your chamber. Before you sleep, pray for the suffering hearts!"

The pilgrim bowed himself, and then left the room, guided by a valet. Hedwige remained alone, contemplating a horrible thought. A light had shed itself upon her mind, and she recalled circumstances which had been forgotten. She remembered her husband's friendship for the Duke of Swabia; the pity which his condition inspired-retained as he was in a servile minority; and she had seen agitation and fright depicted on the countenance of Rodolph when he received the rose from the conspirators.

"O Rodolph! Rodolph!" cried she, "art thou an assassin! Holy God! merciful Saviour! hear me. Grant to my prayers the life of my husband, and all my existence shall be consecrated to penitence."

Whilst pronouncing these words, the innocent wife had fallen upon her knees. She prayed a few moments longer, in a low voice, and felt arise within her bosom a strength equal to her grief.

"I must act now," said she, getting up. She then summoned before her an old squire, who had served

Rodolph de Wart from the time of his childhood, and said to him: "Do you know the road which leads to Rheinfeld ?"

"I have followed it often, madam, and, notwithstanding my age, I can go from here to there with my eyes bandaged."

"Very well! You shall conduct me, then. Saddle our horses; I wish to set off immediately."

Old Ulrich regarded her with profound surprise; but the accent of the lady was so firm and so imperative that he dared not resist. She retired to her apartment, and exchanged her silk dress for a dark-colored robe, a veil, and a travelling cloak. Then, casting a glance of adieu on this chamber, where she had hoped to pass her days so prosperously, she recommended herself to the care of Heaven, and descended to the court-yard, where the horses were in waiting. Bertha, the youngest and most favored of her women, kissed her lady's hand, and let some tears fall on Hedwige's fingers, which were burning with fever. The lady sighed, and, detaching a Viennese chain from her neck, she gave it to the young girl, saying, "It is for my mother, if I do not return. Now, adieu!"

She gave the signal of departure; but, at the moment they crossed the drawbridge, midnight sounded, and an owl sent forth upon the air his unlucky cry. "God protect us," said Ulrich, crossing him

self.

"Be calm, my friend," said Hedwige, with an unspeakable smile, "this omen is not for you." She urged the steps of her beast, and soon the slumbering valley, the poor cottages, and the battlements of the old manor, disappeared from their sight in the nocturnal mist. They followed all night the borders of the Reuss, across dangerous paths, scarcely lighted by the moon, often veiled by the shadow of clouds. In the morning, they reposed for some time in a cabin, at which place they exchanged their horses for two mules, whose more careful and sure footing would guide them better on the edge of precipices, and over slippery rocks, moistened by the continual spray of water from cascades. Hedwige continued her journey; and neither the fatigues nor the perils of the road could relieve her of overwhelming thoughts. During several days, she leaped her horse over abrupt hills, which were placed in the lakes extended at their feet; she crossed through thick forests of fir trees, and hospitable valleys inhabited by shepherds, and at last, from the summit of a mountain, she saw before her the undulating waters of the Rhine, which bathed the embattled ramparts and spires of a large city. "There is Rheinfeld, noble lady," said Ulrich. "O, my God!" cried Hedwige, "it is there that shall be decided for me life or death!"

"Madam," replied Ulrich, with respectful compassion, "take courage! My master is a member of the holy empire, and he can only be judged by his peers."

"What! Do you know—"

"On our journey, I heard a great many things; among others, that the Knight of Wart is a prisoner. Alas!"

"But Agnes-Agnes is a woman. Can she resist the agony of a wife, when prostrate before her?" "Alas!" repeated Ulrich, shaking his head.

CHAPTER IV.

AGNES OF HUNGARY.

Ar last they arrived at the gate of the city, guarded by a large detachment of soldiers, and passed it, demanding the way to the palace, which a man-atarms pointed out. When Hedwige perceived the high towers and the sculptured portico of the imperial residence, she felt a convulsive trembling of her limbs; her throat became dry, her inanimate hands dropped the reins of her horse, and her eyes, raised to heaven, implored that assistance she could not attain on earth. At the doors of the palace, a page, dressed in mourning, arrested them.

"This noble lady," said Ulrich, "desires to speak with her grace, the Queen of Hungary. Perhaps the life of a human being depends upon this audience."

"Are you ignorant, sir esquire, that my noble mistress is plunged in affliction; that she sees no one; and that her days and nights are passed in praying for the soul of the glorious Emperor Albert?" "She is a queen-she is a woman"-said Hedwige, with a weak voice; "to those who implore her aid, she owes justice and clemency. In the name of your mother, let me see her!"

Saying these words, she raised her veil. At the sight of her lovely countenance, which even a deadly paleness could not disfigure, the page yielded.

"Come, madam," said he, "you shall see the queen." Hedwige followed him. An ardent prayer, which gave itself no vent in words, escaped from her heart. She crossed, without seeing them, apartments decorated with an elaborate magnificence, and was introduced into a chamber hung with black, and illuminated, although it was day, by the sepulchral light of lamps and wax tapers. In the centre of this room, near a table on which were placed a crucifix, a death's-head, and an hour-glass, was seated a woman in the attitude of profound meditation. She was clothed in deep mourning. Her angular and severe features, and her pale brow, shrouded with a black veil, stood out like a sombre picture upon the mournful ground of the drapery; and Hedwige shuddered when she encountered the inflexible and piercing looks of this woman. "What do you want?" said Agnes, in a rough voice.

Hedwige fell upon her knees, but her lips could

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66

Madam," said Hedwige, extending her arms towards her, "you are a Christian. In view of all that you deem most holy, have mercy on my husband! Grant him time for repentance! Have mercy, as you yourself hope for mercy! We will flee; we will not disturb the empire with our presence. Oh, madam! by all that you love, have pity!"

"Have not you and yours ravished me of all that I love? No pity for murderers. No mercy for parricides. I have sworn it. Blood shall pay for blood; and the eagles of heaven shall make a repast of the assassin's flesh. Retire, woman; your presence taints the air I breathe."

"Madam"

"Retire! I command!"

"May I not, at least, see my husband, and be shut up with him in the same prison?"

"Ah! You desire to see him!" said Agnes, with a ferocious laugh. "You shall be satisfied; and you shall see how Agnes renders justice."

She went towards the antechamber, and called the young page. "Conduct this lady to Blut-Aker,"

said she.

The page cast a sorrowful look upon her.

66 Obey," repeated Agnes, with severity; and a dark smile appeared on her thin and pale lips. The young man led the way, and Hedwige followed. They soon passed the gates of the city; ho then paused, and said to her, with pity

"Believe me, madam, and follow my advice. Flee; place yourself in safety. The spectacle to which the queen invites you-shame upon her!-is not fit for the eyes of a woman."

Hedwige shook her head, and continued her march. At last they arrived at a vast plain, where an immense crowd was collected-silent, but with a sorrowful aspect. The bells of the neighboring convent struck the death-knell; and above the plain soared birds of prey, which described large circles, and uttered fierce cries. The multitude instinctively opened Before the steps of Hedwige, who went forward as in the delirium of a fatal dream. She at last discovered that which attracted the attention of the people. It was a scaffold, elevated several steps, and on which two men were standing. The one

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