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Page 60
But before he got round the corner by Pagel his house, he turned back for
the third time: and when we wondered thereat, he said we must forgive him,
seeing his thoughts wandered to-day.
That I had formerly told him that I still had my patent of nobility, the
which he begged me to lend him for a time. Hereupon I answered that I must
first seek for it, and that he had best dismount the while. But he would
not, and again excused himself, saying he had no time. He therefore stayed
without the door, until I brought him the patent, whereupon he thanked me
and said, "Do not wonder hereat, you will soon see what my purpose is."
Whereupon he struck his spurs into his horse's sides and did not come back
again.
_The Twenty-ninth Chapter_
OF OUR NEXT GREAT SORROW, AND FINAL JOY
And now might we have been at rest, and have thanked God on our knees by
day and night. For, besides mercifully saving us out of such great
tribulation, he turned the hearts of my beloved flock, so that they knew
not how to do enough for us. Every day they brought us fish, meat, eggs,
sausages, and whatsoe'er besides they could give me, and which I have
since forgotten. Moreover they, every one of them, came to church the next
Sunday, great and small (except goodwife Kliene of Zempin, who had just
got a boy, and still kept her bed), and I preached a thanks-giving sermon
on Job v. 17, 18, and 19 verses, "Behold, happy is the man whom God
correcteth; therefore despise not thou the chastening of the Almighty: for
he maketh sore, and bindeth up; and his hands make whole. He shall deliver
thee in six troubles, yea, in seven there shall no evil touch thee." And
during my sermon I was ofttimes forced to stop by reason of all the
weeping, and to let them blow their noses. And I might truly have compared
myself to Job, after that the Lord had mercifully released him from his
troubles, had it not been for my child, who prepared much fresh grief for
me.
She had wept when the young lord would not dismount, and now that he came
not again, she grew more uneasy from day to day. She sat and read first
the Bible, then the hymn-book, _item_, the history of Dido in _Virgilius_,
or she climbed up the mountain to fetch flowers (likewise sought after the
vein of amber there, but found it not, which shows the cunning and malice
of Satan). I saw this for a while with many sighs, but spake not a word
(for, dear reader, what could I say?) until it grew worse and worse; and
as she now recited her _carmina_ more than ever both at home and abroad, I
feared lest the people should again repute her a witch, and one day I
followed her up the mountain. Well-a-day, she sat on the pile, which still
stood there, but with her face turned towards the sea, reciting the
_versus_ where Dido mounts the funeral pile in order to stab herself for
love of AEneas:--
At trepida et coeptis immanibus effera Dido
Sanguineam volvens aciem, maculisque trementes
Interfusa genas, et pallida morte futur�
Interiora domus irrumpit limina et altos
Conscendit furibunda rogos....
When I saw this, and heard how things really stood with her, I was
affrighted beyond measure, and cried, "Mary, my child, what art thou
doing?" She started when she heard my voice, but sat still on the pile,
and answered, as she covered her face with her apron, "Father, I am
burning my heart." I drew near to her and pulled the apron from her face,
saying, "Wilt thou, then, again kill me with grief?" whereupon she covered
her face with her hands, and moaned, "Alas, father, wherefore was I not
burned here? My torment would then have endured but for a moment, but now
it will last as long as I live!" I still did as though I had seen nought,
and said, "Wherefore, dear child, dost thou suffer such torment?"
whereupon she answered, "I have long been ashamed to tell you; for the
young lord, the young lord, my father, do I suffer this torment! He no
longer thinks of me; and albeit he saved my life he scorns me, or he would
surely have dismounted and come in a while; but we are of far too low
degree for him!" Hereupon I indeed began to comfort her and to persuade
her to think no more of the young lord; but the more I comforted her, the
worse she grew. Nevertheless I saw that she did yet in secret cherish a
strong hope by reason of the patent of nobility which he had made me give
him. I would not take this hope from her, seeing that I felt the same
myself, and to comfort her I flattered her hopes, whereupon she was more
quiet for some days, and did not go up the mountain, the which I had
forbidden her. Moreover, she began again to teach little Paasch her
god-daughter, out of whom, by the help of the all-righteous God, Satan was
now altogether departed. But she still pined, and was as white as a sheet;
and when soon after a report came that none in the castle at Mellenthin
knew what was become of the young lord, and that they thought he had been
killed, her grief became so great that I had to send my ploughman on
horseback to Mellenthin to gain tidings of him. And she looked at least
twenty times out of the door and over the paling to watch for his return;
and when she saw him coming she ran out to meet him as far as the corner
by Pagels. But, blessed God! he brought us even worse news than we had
heard before, saying, that the people at the castle had told him that
their young master had ridden away the self-same day whereon he had
rescued the maiden. That he had, indeed, returned after three days to his
father's funeral, but had straightway ridden off again, and that for five
weeks they had heard nothing further of him, and knew not whither he was
gone, but supposed that some wicked ruffians had killed him.
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