University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V. THE FRIGHTFUL CATASTROPHE.

THE trial was at hand. All the great
lords and barons of Brandenburgh were
assembled in the Hall of Justice in the
ducal palace. No space was left unoccupied
where there was room for a spectator to stand
or sit. Conrad, clad in purple and ermine, sat
in the premier's chair, and on either side sat the
great judges of the realm. The old Duke had
sternly commanded that the trial of his daughter
should proceed, without favor, and then had
taken to his bed broken-hearted. His days were
numbered. Poor Conrad had begged, as for his
very life, that he might be spared the misery of
sitting in judgment upon his cousin's crime, but
it did not avail.

The saddest heart in all that great assemblage
was in Conrad's breast.

The gladdest was in his father's. For, unknown
to his daughter “Conrad,” the old Baron
Klugenstein was come, and was among the crowd
of nobles, triumphant in the swelling fortunes of
his house.

After the heralds had made due proclamation
and the other preliminaries had followed, the
venerable Lord Chief Justice said:

“Prisoner, stand forth!”

The unhappy princess rose and stood unveiled
before the vast multitude. The Lord Chief
Justice continued:

“Most noble lady, before the great judges of
this realm it hath been charged and proven that
out of holy wedlock your Grace hath given birth
unto a child, and by our ancient law the penalty
is death, excepting in one sole contingency,
whereof his Grace the acting Duke, our good
Lord Conrad, will advertise you in his solemn
sentence now; wherefore, give heed.”

Conrad stretched forth the reluctant sceptre,
and in the self-same moment the womanly heart
beneath his robe yearned pityingly toward the

[ILLUSTRATION]

This is the Priest (not) shaven and shorn, that married
the man all tattered and torn unto the maiden all forlorn
that milked the cow with the crumpled horn that tossed the
dog that worried the cat that caught the rat that ate the
malt that lay in the House that Jack built.

[Description: 501EAF. Page 043. Image of the manly maiden, in a sailor dress and slippers with a wreath of flowers in his hair, giving his hand to the five-headed man in marriage. The five-headed man is holding a large ring, that looks more like a collar, which has ERIE etched on the side. In the background is the Priest, wearing a long white robe upon which the vows have been inscribed, lifting his arms as if in flight. His hands are like claws, with long hooked nails.]

doomed prisoner, and the tears came into his
eyes. He opened his lips to speak, but the
Lord Chief Justice said quickly:

“Not there, your Grace, not there! It is not
lawful to pronounce judgment upon any of the
ducal line SAVE FROM THE DUCAL THRONE!”

A shudder went to the heart of poor Conrad,
and a tremor shook the iron frame of his old
father likewise. Conrad had not been crowned—dared
he profane the throne? He hesitated
and turned pale with fear. But it must
be done. Wondering eyes were already upon
him. They would be suspicious eyes if he hesitated
longer. He ascended the throne. Presently
he stretched forth the sceptre again, and
said:

“Prisoner, in the name of our sovereign lord,
Ulrich, Duke of Brandenburgh, I proceed to the
solemn duty that hath devolved upon me. Give
heed to my words. By the ancient law of the
land, except you produce the partner of your
guilt and deliver him up to the executioner, you
must surely die. Embrace this opportunity—
save yourself while yet you may. Name the
father of your child!”

A solemn hush fell upon the great court—a
silence so profound that men could hear their
own hearts beat. Then the princess slowly
turned, with eyes gleaming with hate, and pointing
her finger straight at Conrad, said:

“Thou art the man!”

An appalling conviction of his helpless, hopeless
peril struck a chill to Conrad's heart like
the chill of death itself. What power on earth
could save him! To disprove the charge, he
must reveal that he was a woman; and for an
uncrowned woman to sit in the ducal chair was
death! At one and the same moment, he and
his grim old father swooned and fell to the
ground.

[The remainder of this thrilling and eventful
story will NOT be found in this or any other
publication, either now or at any future time.]

The truth is, I have got my hero (or heroine)
into such a particularly close place, that I do
not see how I am ever going to get him (or
her) out of it again—and therefore I will wash
my hands of the whole business, and leave that
person to get out the best way that offers—or
else stay there. I thought it was going to be

easy enough to straighten out that little difficulty,
but it looks different now.

[If Harper's Weekly or the New York Tribune
desire to copy these initial chapters into the
reading columns of their valuable journals, just
as they do the opening chapters of Ledger and
New York Weekly novels, they are at liberty to
do so at the usual rates, provided they “trust.”]

Mark Twain.