Feudal tyrants; or, The Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans, volume 3 (of 4)Naubert, Benedikte
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Feudal tyrants; or, The Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans, volume 3 (of 4)
Naubert, Benedikte
German fiction -- Translations into English
—“Kneel,” said she, “kneel upon the stone, on which Amalberga was
kneeling when seized by the sacrilegious Landenberg; kneel, and swear in
the presence of God and of this chapel’s Patron-Saint, never even in
thought to swerve from the strictest rules of eternal truth and
unsullied virtue: so shall this place be cleansed from the pollution,
which it contracted from the impure steps of the virgin’s ravisher!—May
Landenberg’s fate be thine, Erwin, shouldst thou ever for one instant
prove faithless to Rosanna!—Never may’st thou, Rosanna, find in the time
of need such a preserver as Amalberga found in Eginhart, shouldst thou
ever forget the man, to whom I now solemnly betroth thee in the face of
listening Heaven.—Let nothing part you, but the grave!—And should
hereafter either of you from inconstancy or caprice rend asunder the
sacred bonds, with which I now unite your fates for ever, that instant
shall my form (be I living, or be I dead) stand before you threatening
and awful, and warn you to return to the paths of propriety and
duty!—But peace, everlasting peace be with the bosoms of faith, and may
the wings of angels overspread them and preserve them!”—
Erwin and Rosanna, as they gazed on the lovely form, which stood before
them illuminated by the pale light of the consecrated tapers, fancied
themselves in the presence of some celestial being. They thought, that
in her words they heard the voice of her Patron-Saint; they swore
fidelity while life should last, and Mary kissed and blessed them.
She then accompanied them to the Chapel-porch; and the betrothed or
rather the espoused lovers (for as such they now considered themselves)
bent their course homewards beneath a sky heavy with the dews of an
autumnal evening. Not one syllable did they exchange, as they past
along; a gentle pressure of the hand occasionally was the only manner,
in which they gave token of their feelings. Yet was their joy not quite
unclouded; a secret heaviness weighed down their hearts: melancholy
forebodings forbade their abandoning themselves entirely to the
delightful thought—“We are united for ever!”—
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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