The Banished: A Swabian Historical TaleHauff, Wilhelm
General
The Banished: A Swabian Historical Tale
Hauff, Wilhelm
Ulrich, Duke of Württemberg, 1487-1550 -- Fiction
The dead silence which reigned throughout the house was only broken by
the occasional snuffing of the candles, the ticking of a large wooden
clock in a black case, and the monotonous throw of the dice. Albert
would gladly have heard some other symptoms of life, if it were but the
grumbling of the old nurse, or her footstep sounding again in the
corridors. The game had never possessed any charm for him, and more
particularly at the present moment, when his thoughts were otherwise
occupied. He was oppressed with a lowness of spirits which he could
scarcely control, separated as he now was by a few streets only from
his beloved, and anxious to satisfy his longing desire to see her
again. The unfeigned pleasure which Herr Dieterick appeared to derive
in winning nearly every game, imparted to his good-natured face
something so peculiarly agreeable, that it made up in some measure for
the loss of time.
When the clock struck eight Dieterick led his guest to supper, which
his housekeeper, spite of her ill humour, had prepared in her best
manner, for she spared nothing to keep up the dignity and honour of the
house of Kraft. The secretary again essayed the powers of his
eloquence, with which he sought to season the repast. He talked
concerning passing events, of the coming war, and gave Albert to
understand that his situation put him in possession of state secrets
known only to a select few. But in vain did Albert hope to hear
something about his pretty cousins. He attempted to sound him upon a
subject so nearly allied to his dearest interests, namely, upon the
views of the knight of Lichtenstein in the pending struggle, which he
had failed to elicit at the dinner; but the secretary, whether to
impress Albert with the importance of his confidential situation in the
council, or that he really did not know the intention of Bertha's
father, put on a more consequential and mysterious air than usual, and
the only information he would impart was, that the knight was then in
Ulm with some others of Würtemberg.
This news was at least satisfactory so far as the turn it was likely to
give to his fate. His joy was now for the first time complete, in the
satisfaction of having joined a party which, except for the great names
at the head of it, was otherwise indifferent to him. "And so her father
is also among those assembled here!" thought he. "May I not hope to
have the good fortune to fight by the side of that good man, and prove
myself worthy of my name, and of her I love?" He felt the conviction
that Albert von Sturmfeder would not be the last in a battle.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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