10. X.
The first surprise being over, and Rodolph being
now satisfied that it was Conrade himself — a
person of very substantial flesh and blood, and no
ghost — that stood before him, the conversation
naturally turned upon the desperate act which
Rodolph had been about to commit, when his
friend so opportunely interrupted him.
“What could have persuaded you to this, Rodolph?
what motive for this rashness?” was the
demand of Conrade.
The youth told his story, and Conrade chuckled
so heartily that the lover grew indignant.
“Why, what the d—l do you find in it to laugh
at?” he demanded fiercely.
“Be not rash,” said the other; “and, I pray
you, take not your neighbor's name in vain. The
devil may be much nearer to you than you imagine.
If I laugh, I mean no offence, you may be
sure. I only laugh at the folly of love, which so
beguiles and misleads men of otherwise very excellent
understanding. Did you hope to get the
girl by cutting your throat?”
“Not to get her, surely; but to live without her
would be worse than death.”
“Perhaps so; but I think not. Life is comfortable,
always provided you have enough of it;
and that a man may always have, if he will look
for it where it may be found. But what do you
intend now to do? I have kept you from death
once; when I turn my back, you will whip out
your cold steel again, and try the thing over, and
it may be, another time I shall come a moment or
two too late.”
“Perhaps,” said Rodolph, with some phlegm.
“Perhaps is no answer to a friend,” said the
other, taking his hand affectionately. “Be more
like yourself; let old times begin again. Let us
once more be true friends to each other; for, believe
me, Rodolph, though time has been between
us, and we have been so long separated, I feel toward
you as ever.”
Rodolph could not reply, but he returned the
gentle squeeze of his friend's hand, and the tears
filled his eyes.
“You weep, Rodolph, and I am answered,”
said the other. “I see you have the same heart
as of old. I, too, have been left unchanged in all
my trials. We are again friends.”
They embraced affectionately, and after a little
interval given up to the renewal of former pledges,
after the picturesque and sentimental manner common,
even at that early period, among the German
youth, they again began to discourse about
the purposed deed of Rodolph, and the causes
which had led to it. A few moments were passed
by Conrade in silence; then, abruptly speaking,
he demanded:
“And you are required to man your castle, refit
and repair it, and altogether exhibit resources
such as the baron with a long name?”
The youth sighed forth a melancholy affirmative.
“You shall do it,” said the other.
Rodolph looked up angrily, as if he had been
laughed at.
“You shall do it.”
“How?”
“I will help you to fortune.”
“You?”
“Yes — I — Conrade Weickhoff. It shall be
the first proof which I will give you that my friendship
for you is the same that it ever was. I am able
to do what I promise. I am able to give you the
means to go forth as proudly as your baron with a
long name, and to exhibit wealth even more extensive.
We shall satisfy Bertha's parents, and
you shall have the maiden without delay.”
Rodolph looked on his friend in silent wonderment.
He thought him dreaming. He knew
that Conrade's family had been quite as destitute
as his own. Where could he have got his new
ability to do what he promised. He must surely
be mad, thought Rodolph; but when he looked
at Conrade, never did face seem more confident
and earnest. The expression of his countenance
was conclusive.
“Speak out,” said Rodolph, impetuously; “tell
me all; explain to me the sources of your ability,
and torture me no longer with a hope so extravagant
as to seem desperate and foolish. Let me
hear upon what you build, that I may know whether
it be worth while to live for it or not.”
“It is always worth one's while to live, so long
as there are maidens like Bertha Staremberg to
live with. I know the maiden; she is a heaven
in herself; and were it not, dear Rodolph, for my
friendship, I should certainly seek her love on my
own account.”
“Ha!” said Rodolph, furiously.
But the other checked him in his paroxysm.
“Fear nothing, I am not your rival. I will
help you to Bertha; the means are even now in
your own power, and I will disclose them to you.
But come apart with me to some pleasant place,
where we may sit while talking. There is, or
should be, an old abbey in this neighborhood,
where I have often rambled. The grave stone of
an armed knight shall yield us a pleasant seat, and
then we can talk more freely. I hate fatigue;
and standing up when one can sit, is like submitting
to bondage when one can fly. The sense of
restraint is, of all others, the most hateful to me;
and, when I can help, I will have none of it.
Come.”
