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Updated: June 5, 2025
"But ah, signorini miei, I am an infelice infelicissimo, ever persecuted by le Fate." "By whom? A count like Schlangenwald?" asked Ebbo. "Das Schicksal," whispered Friedel. "Three long miserable years did I spend as a captive among the Moors, having lost all, my ships and all I had, and being forced to row their galleys, gli scomunicati."
Hadst never a word for the poor caitiff?" "I knew thou wouldst never do the deed," said Friedel, smiling. "It was such wretched prey," said Ebbo. "Yet shall I be despised for this! Would that thou hadst let me string him up shriftless, as any other man had done, and there would have been an end of it!"
The old burgher was forbearing; Christina, who knew how much her son must have swallowed to bring him to this concession for love of her, thought him a hero worthy of all sacrifices; and peace-making Friedel, by his aunt's side, soon softened even her, by some of the persuasive arguments that old dames love from gracious, graceful, great-nephews.
"Have you got any childen?" "One boy in America." "Sensible fellow a man's better off there." "You'd think so but he's always writing for money, the rascal! He's married, too. When he went away, I said to him, 'Friedel, I said, 'good luck to you, and take care of yourself; do whatever you like but if you marry, there'll be trouble. Well, now he's got himself into it. Say, were you ever married?"
He showed them the innocent face of a little white kid. "Whence is it, Friedel?" He pointed to the peak, saying, "I was lying on my back by the tarn, when my lady eagle came sailing overhead, so low that I could see this poor little thing, and hear it bleat." "Thou hast been to the Eyrie the inaccessible Eyrie!" exclaimed Ebbo, in amazement. "That's a mistake.
He was nearly unconscious, and gasped with anguish, but, after Moritz had bathed his face and moistened his lips, as he lay in his brother's arms, he looked up with clearer eyes, and said: "Have I slain him? It was the shot, not he, that sent me down. Lives he? See thou, Friedel thou. Make him yield."
"I own that I will not brook such rule," said Ebbo; "nor do I know what we have done to deserve that it should be thrust on us. You have never blamed Friedel, at least; and verily, uncle, my mother's eye will lead me where a stranger's hand shall never drive me.
"I know not," said Friedel, "but it is to me as if I were taking my leave of all these purple hollows and heaven-lighted peaks cleaving the sky. All the more, Ebbo, since I have made up my mind to a resolution." "Nay, none of the old monkish fancies," cried Ebbo, "against them thou art sworn, so long as I am true knight."
She would have thrown his crimson mantle round him, but he repelled it indignantly. "Gay braveries for me, while my Friedel is not yet in his resting-place? Here the black velvet cloak." "Alas, Ebbo! it makes thee look more of a corpse than a bridegroom. Thou wilt scare thy poor little spouse. Ah! it was not thus I had fancied myself decking thee for thy wedding." "Poor little one!" said Ebbo.
Friedel, however, could not rest till he had followed Heinz to the stable, and speaking over the back of the old white mare, the only other survivor of the massacre, had asked him once more for the particulars, a tale he was never loth to tell; but when Friedel further demanded whether he was certain of having seen the death of his younger lord, he replied, as if hurt: "What, think you I would have quitted him while life was yet in him?"
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