The Trumpeter of Sakkingen - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel The Trumpeter of Sakkingen Part 9 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
Meanwhile, silently descended Midnight over vale and city; And in Margaretta's slumbers Came a dream most sweet and wondrous: As she walked to the old minster Once again in festal garments, Fridolinus came to meet her; By his side there walked another, But 'twas not the dead man who once Followed him to Glarus court-house; 'Twas a youth, fair, tall, and slender; Like a trumpeter he looked, and Greeted her with lowly reverence; While Saint Fridolin was smiling.
SIXTH PART.
HOW YOUNG WERNER BECAME THE BARON'S TRUMPETER.
Master Anton started early The next morning for the city, To find out that trumpet blower.
By St. Fridolin's cathedral He turned off into a side-street.
From the other side there came with Rapid steps the boatman Martin, And they met just at the corner, b.u.mping up against each other.
"'Pon my soul," cried out the worthy Anton, as he rubbed his forehead; "Your thick skull is hard as iron."
"Yours is not upholstered either With soft wool or springy sea-weed,"
Was the boatman's ready answer.
"And what business have you running Through the city's streets thus early?"
"I can ask the same," said Anton.
"I seek someone who last evening From the sh.o.r.e my boat unfastened,"
Answered him the boatman Martin.
"He may be my man," said Anton.
"When I came down to the river, There I found my boat turned over On the sh.o.r.e--the rudder broken, And the fastening cut asunder.
If a thunderstorm would only Sweep away these wicked people, Who like thieves at night are roving On the Rhine in borrowed vessels."
"And the trumpet blow," said Anton.-- "But whenever I shall find him, To the justice I shall take him.
He must pay me; even for the Black and blue mark which you gave me, I shall bring a heavy reckoning.
It is shameful how this fellow Gives me such vexation!" Thus the Boatman scolding went on farther.
"And I do not see myself, why I should take such extra trouble To hunt up this mischief-maker,"
Said old Anton to himself then.
"Seems to me it is already Just the time when honest people For their morning draught are longing."
To the "Golden b.u.t.ton's" shady Tap-room turned the worthy Anton Now his steps, and through a side-door In he stepped: he deemed it wiser Thus to hide before the public Such an early morning visit.
Many worthy folks already Had there quietly a.s.sembled O'er their br.i.m.m.i.n.g foaming b.u.mpers.
Like red roses shone their faces, And like radishes their noses.
"Want a big gla.s.s?" asked the waitress Our old Anton, who a.s.sented: "To be sure! hot is the weather, And when I woke up, already In my throat I felt a dryness."
So good Anton soon was drinking From his large Bohemian b.u.mper, Turning over in his mind well, How he should despatch his business.
In the private room was sitting, Just then Werner with the landlord, Who had served for his guest's breakfast A fine slice of red smoked salmon, And commenced with the young stranger An instructive conversation: On the vintage in the Rhine-Pfalz, How the price of hops was standing, How they fared in time of war there.
Now and then, to sound the stranger, He threw slyly out some questions, Whence he came and what his business.
Still he gained no satisfaction; But quite shrewdly thus he reasoned:
"He's no bookworm, for he seemeth Much too martial--nor a soldier Either, as he looks too modest; He may be a necromancer, An adept in all dark witchcraft, Alchemy, and other black arts.
Wait, I'll catch thee;" and he turned their Talk to hidden buried treasures, And to midnight exorcisms.
"Yes, my friend, here near the city Lies a sandbank in the river.
At the time of Fridolinus Heaps of gold coin there were buried.
One who knows, a clever fellow, Could there dig and make his fortune."
"I already saw the sandbank,"
Said young Werner, "when I rowed there On the Rhine last night by moonlight."
"What, you know it then already?"
Said the landlord much astonished.
"Have I caught thee?" he thought, keenly Looking at young Werner's pockets, If he could not hear a jingling Of great lots of golden money.
"Have I caught thee?" also gladly To himself said worthy Anton.
"It is, after all, the right thing Thus to take an early potion."
From the spot where he was seated He had heard their conversation; And besides upon the table.
By the stranger's sword and c.o.c.ked hat, Also lay the sought-for trumpet.
Drawing near, then, he said gravely:
"With your leave, if you're no spirit-- And that seems to me unlikely.
As you've just enjoyed your breakfast-- Then the Baron sends you greeting, And invites you to his castle.
I will take you there with pleasure."
Thus he spoke. Young Werner listened, Half astonished, and went with him.
Smirking, thought the cunning landlord: "You will get it, my young master; You believed you had full freedom Thus to rove about the river, Spying out long-buried treasures.
But the Baron found you out soon, And will stop your bold proceedings.
Now you'll get it, when he treats you, From his amply-furnished stores, to Some of his well-seasoned curses.
Like a top your head will spin then, And your ears buzz like a beehive.
But this will concern you solely.
If he keep you in a dungeon Of your horse I'll take possession; It will well score off your reckoning."
Once more in the hall together Were the Baron and his daughter, And again he smoked his pipe there, When the ponderous folding-doors were Opened, and, with modest reverence, Werner entered. "If you only,"
Said the faithful Anton, "only Knew, your gracious lords.h.i.+p, what a Heavy task it was to find him!"
Keenly did the Baron's eyes rest On young Werner, pa.s.sing muster; By her father, lightly leaning On his arm-chair, Margaretta Bashfully looked at the stranger, And with both the first impression Of each other was most happy.
"It is you, then," said the Baron, "Who last night have startled us here With your trumpet-blowing, therefore I should like to speak to you now."
"This commences well," thought Werner, And, embarra.s.sed, cast his eyes down To the ground. But the old Baron, Kindly smiling, thus continued: "You believe, perhaps, I shall now Call you to account for having Made loud music near the castle?
You are wrong, 'tis not my business; For no license is here needed On the Rhine; if anybody Wants to catch a cold by playing Late at night there, he may do so.
No, I only wish to ask you, Whether you would like here often As last night to blow the trumpet?
But I fear I am mistaken.
You are not by trade a player, May be one of those d.a.m.ned scribblers, Secretary to a foreign Emba.s.sy, as many are now Coaching all about the country, Just to spoil all that the soldier's Ready sword had once accomplished?"
"Not bad either," thought young Werner; Still he liked the Baron's manner.
"I am no professional player,"
Said he, "and still less a scribbler.
As for my part, all the inkstands In the Holy Roman Empire Might dry up without my caring.
I am not in any service, But as my own lord and master I am travelling for my pleasure, And await whatever fortune On my pathway may be blooming."