Part 10

“Here she is, good people; here is the source of all your ills--the cause of all your woes! The poor fool of a Baron would do no harm but for this vile woman. See what a passion she is in now! This is her usual temper; and no wonder she is such a tyrant, and makes her husband the same!”

At {094}this point the Baroness broke in, having previously-vented her rage in sobs and incoherent shrieks. “Let me loose! let me loose!” she cried. “You riff-raff--you vagabonds--you traitors--let me loose directly! This wretched creature has deceived you all; she is a worthless, good-for-nothing hussy. Let me loose, or I vow you shall all be hanged!” And the Baroness shrieked for fury again, her temper being by no means improved by the false heir, who, despite all his fears for himself, seeing her securely tied, could not resist the temptation of giving her a fearful pinch in the fleshy part of the arm, for which a peasant instantly knocked him down.

Before Martha could speak again, the Baron, who was a good old chap in the main, roared out aloud: “By my grandfather’s monument!” cried he (an oath all the more terrible from the edifice in question being well known to be the largest and ugliest of its kind for miles around); “this is past all bearing! Knaves! will ye list to the falsehoods of this base harridan, who has eaten our salt for years, and now wags her evil tongue against a kind, though perhaps somewhat hasty, mistress? Never has the Baroness said a word against one of ye. My faults, whatever they be, are mine own, and for them I will answer. But what has the Baroness done? Who sends ye alms and food when sickness is amongst ye? Who helps your wives and children when trouble is in your homes? Who but the Baroness? And is this your gratitude?”

There was some truth in what the Baron now said, for his wife was by no means unkind to the poor, nor would they have readily turned against her but for the wiles {095}of Martha, assisted by the magical powers of the wehr-wolves. But Martha knew too well to let the Baron continue. She broke in upon his discourse with her shrill, sharp voice: “Hear the good man, my friends; he is right to stand up for his wife, no doubt, but he knows well that he is false to the truth. She is a wretch, a tyrant, a termagant! Yes, Madam the Baroness,” she continued, coming close in front of the chair, and approaching her face much nearer to that of the poor lady than the latter deemed at all pleasant--“yes, your reign is at an end--do you hear, you old fright? Your back hair shall be pulled out; though, as it is nearly all false, it will cause you but little pain. Your nose shall be wrung!--your ears shall be slit!--and you shall serve me--do you hear? Oh, you’re a pretty one to box a person’s ears. I’ll pay you out now for that, I’ll warrant me!” And as she spoke she lifted up her arm, about to give the Baroness a box on the ears with her full force. But in the very act she paused--stopped--and stood trembling and irresolute, as if suddenly arrested by some superior power.

At the same moment, and apparently by the same influence, the peasants one and all felt themselves restrained from moving forwards, the Baroness ceased to scream, and a dead silence fell upon the whole of the party, whilst, with a low and miserable moan, the false heir crept behind the coal-scuttle, and crouched himself down within as small a compass as possible. The whole of this marvellous effect had apparently been produced by a very trifling cause. The low, tinkling sound of a harp was heard, and those who looked round in the right direction saw, standing in the embrasure of one {096}of the windows which looked out upon the lake, an old man of by no means noble or prepossessing exterior, with a leaf-crowned hat upon his head, and a harp of very simple construction in his hands, from the strings of which he elicited the sound they had heard, to which he now added that of his own voice. And thus he sang, in a dull, monotonous tone, to the astonished audience:--

“Whoever murders, robs, and loots, Within these walls of Bandelboots, Must hear his doom and take his choice, Instructed by the Harper’s voice.

Ye men of form and manners rough, Old Bandelboots has woes enough, The which when ye have heard and known You’ll leave the worthy man alone.

To you and yours he’s done no harm, But, subject to a potent charm, Has suffered woes, by demon sent, Enough to make your hearts relent.

T’ expose the wickedness be mine (In spite of demons of the Rhine), And ye who list shall know ere long The truth and justice of my song.

There was an infant once, who smiled On those around like angel child; A child of soul and temper rare-- Of Bandelboots the precious heir.

Where now that child is to be found, Who knows? I pause, and look around, And ask if this description suits The present heir of Bandelboots?

What is that wretched changeling worth? Come forth, vile elf, at once come forth!”

Here the stranger paused, and, to the wonder and surprise of all those who heard and saw, the supposed young heir crept moaning and whining from behind the coal-scuttle, and shambled across the room towards the window {097}at which the old harper was standing. As he did so, the strange bard continued his song,--

“Form of boy, with heart of ape, Resume at once thy former shape!”

As he spoke, a strange transformation came at once over the wretched imp. His boyish shape disappeared; a tail shot out where tails usually grow; the wings of a bat sprang upon his shoulders; his form became ugly and misshapen, and he stood before them all a regular devilet, and no mistake! At the very same instant the window behind the harper flew open as if by magic, and in flew a figure similar to that before them, from which, however, the wings and tail dropped, the evil shape disappeared, and a handsome, well-proportioned boy, with a remarkably sweet expression upon his countenance, stood before the astonished party.

In an instant a shriek of joy was heard from the corner in which some of the trembling servants were assembled, and old nurse Grutchen rushed forward and threw herself upon the boy’s neck with a burst of mingled sobs and laughter. “My pet! my darling! my child!” she cried. “It is you! I know it is you! Come to old Sophie then, my pearl of the world;” and again she shrieked with joy.

More {098}wonders followed before any of the audience had recovered from their astonishment at what had already occurred. With a yell and a howl the devilet flew towards the window, his passage through which was mightily assisted by a hearty kick from the old harper, and he was seen no more. Scarcely, however, had he left the scene when the rushing of wings was heard, and three magnificent swans sailed through the window and alighted in the room, exactly in front of the old harper, to whom they looked up with longing and affectionate glances. The worthy man at once struck his harp again, and sang as follows:--

“Old Bandelboots, as well ye wot, Had once three lovely daughters, For whom the place became too hot, Through imps from river waters.

Then the Rhine King (a wondrous thing, Which needs some explanation) His aid did to the maidens bring, Gave each Swan’s plumage, neck, and wing, And caused their transformation.

Now here the three together be (Performed their destined duties), And I decree they shall be free Once more. Arise, my beauties!”

As he ceased speaking the feathers fell off from the three swans, their beaks changed into beautiful noses, their forms became those of lovely young ladies, and Dora, Bertha, and Elladine once more stood in their proper shapes before their surprised and delighted parents.

Whilst this had been going on, the youthful Hubert, making one bound forward, sprang to his mother’s chair, and, seizing a dagger from the hand of a bewildered {099}peasant, set her free in an instant. Upon this the Baroness, overcome by mingled emotions of joy and wonder, wept upon her boy’s neck, and the old harper thus continued, addressing himself emphatically to the crowd of peasants before him:--

“Poor knaves! who quake and shake with fear, O’erwhelmed with terror and with shame, The powers of evil lured ye here: Theirs and not yours, the chiefest blame.

Hence! fly! be off! your injured lord For this day’s work will pardon give: For him I speak this kindly word:, To-day he knows his children live.

Begone, I say! and, as to wrongs, Yours are but small; the fiends beshrew ye. If e’er ye listen to false tongues Which lie about your masters to ye!

Be each contented with his lot-- Both rich and poor this world containeth; But let this truth be ne’er forgot-- O’er rich and poor ‘tis God that reigneth;

Nor is full happiness e’er given To mortal man this side of heaven.”

He spoke, and, as he concluded, the peasants, half frightened and half ashamed, began to steal away by twos and threes at a time, until none of them were left behind. The Baron, who had listened with the utmost attention to the words of the old harper, now stepped forward and tenderly embraced his daughters, after which he clasped his recovered boy to his heart, and vowed that upon that joyous day no one should be punished, and even the treacherous peasants who had invaded his castle should be freely forgiven.