Feudal tyrants; or, The Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans, volume 3 (of 4)Naubert, Benedikte
General
Feudal tyrants; or, The Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans, volume 3 (of 4)
Naubert, Benedikte
German fiction -- Translations into English
Gessler was too void of sensibility to understand the meaning of the
glance, which was darted on him by Tell’s piercing eye. He only smiled
contemptuously at having compelled the pride of this great mind to stoop
itself to his orders, when he saw him press the lovely laughing child,
his latest-born, to his heart with passion, and then bear him in his
arms to the tree, where he was destined to take his stand. The apple,
which was the nominal mark for that arrow, whose point Gessler hoped to
see crimsoned with human blood, was fixed on the child’s head by the
hands of the unhappy father.
Gessler’s attendants prepared to bind the innocent creature to the tree;
but a spark of paternal spirit already burned in the soul of the son.
—“I am an Helvetian!” cried he with boyish eagerness; “I am not afraid
of death, but of bonds: why, if my father _really_ wanted to kill me, do
you think I would run away?”—
All withdrew from the place, where Death’s intended victim stood calm
and sweetly-smiling, like a second Isaac. The multitude, agonized with
terror, could scarcely be heard to breathe: Tell had already taken his
station. All were still, all dreading, lest the father’s hand, rendered
trembling and uncertain by anxiety for his darling, should for the first
time miss the mark; when the arrow whistled through the air, and fixed
itself in the apple just above the crown of the child’s head, who saw it
coming towards him, and smiled as he marked its flight.
Now then all rushed, eagerly to learn the event of this awful scene.
Some exclaimed—“He is fallen! he is fallen!”—But the boy had only
stooped to pick up the apple which the force of the blow had struck from
his head; and he now presented it to his father, who had flown to
embrace his rescued darling with speed scarce inferior to that of his
arrow.
—“I was certain, father,” cried the child, as he hung round the neck of
the breathless Tell, “I was certain, that you were not _really_ going to
kill your own William!”—
—“Kill _thee_?” exclaimed the father; “sooner would I have driven the
arrow into my own heart! But eternal curses and sudden death to him, who
would have made a man the murderer of his own child! Look!” he
continued, while he clasped the boy to his breast with one hand, and
with the other drew from his bosom a dart, which he held towards
Gessler, “Look, monster! had the first arrow pierced my son’s breast,
_this_ should have been buried to the very beard in _thine_.—For this
time thou art safe; but yet rest thou assured, that at the last thou
shalt not escape unpunished! Though _I_ may spare thee, Heaven will
_not_.”—
—“Vengeance! vengeance! death and curses to the tyrant! Eternal
destruction to the infernal Gessler and all the miscreants who assist
him!” thus exclaimed the multitude with one voice; while they closed
round Tell in order to conduct him home in safety, and protect him from
the Governor’s guards, to whom a signal had been given to fall upon him
without delay.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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