Page:Der Freischütz (The Free-Shooter); A Lyric Folk-Drama (1849).djvu/24

 cloud was banished from her brow, while Joy’s glowing sun-ray sparkled in her eye,—“if such your purpose, speak instantly with father, lest that he give his word to Robert.”

“Await me, Kate”—said Wilhelm—“I will after him into the wood. He may be in pursuit of the stag which should be sent the morrow to the Court-house. Hand me pouch and gun, I will seek him, give him a hunter’s salute, and pray him take me in his service.”

Mother and daughter fell upon his neck, and embraced the new-made hunter; they then equipped him as well as they were able, and with a feeling of hopeful delight not unmixed with sorrow, saw him depart into the forest.

“A gallant youth, this Wilhelm!”—cried the Forester joyfully, as the two sportsmen returned home—“who could have expected such shooting from a ‘knight of the quill’? Now, the very morrow will I speak with our baillie; it were a shame should the lad not embrace the hunter’s noble calling! We will make him another Cuno. You know who Cuno was?”

Wilhelm shook his head.

“Have I never told you?”—continued the Forester.—“Mark, then; he was my ancestor, founder and endower of this my Forestry. Formerly but a mere trooper’s sub’, he served under the young Lord of Wippach, who perceived his parts, and bade him accompany him in all his skirmishings, tourneys, and hunting-bouts. Once upon a time, this Lord of Wippach was summoned, along with other nobles and knights, to a great hunt held by the Duke. At this hunt the hounds started a stag, on which sat a man crying piteously and wringing his hands; for ’twas formerly a tyrannical custom amongst our Lords of the Chase, that every poacher should be bound to a wild stag, and be either gored and torn to pieces, or else forced to perish by hunger and thirst. When the Duke saw this, his anger exceeded that of the rest, and he called out to the assembled hunters, promising a great reward to whomsoever should hit the stag; at the same time threatening his greatest displeasure and condemnation, should the man bound upon it be in any ways wounded, since he would have him alive, to know who had dared to disobey his laws. None of the surrounding nobles dared to chance the Duke’s displeasure for a shot. At last, Cuno, my ancestor, stepped forward, (the same whom you see there in the picture) and thus addressed the Duke: ‘Most gracious Sire, an ye permit me, by the help of God I would attempt this shot; should I fail, my life is yours to take as an atonement; riches and wealth have I none, but my heart bleeds for yon poor man, and I would stake my existence that he hath fallen amongst foes or thieves.” The Duke, well-pleased, bade Cuno try his luck, repeating his former promise without the adjunct of the threat, lest he should be intimidated. Cuno then took his rifle, cocked it in God’s name, and commended the bullets to the holy Saints with a faith-breathing pious prayer. Without delay he straight shot bravely into the wood, and in an instant the stag flew out, fell, and expired; but the man remained unhurt, save that his hands and face were a little torn by the bushes. The Duke kept his word, and gave Cuno as a reward this Forestry for himself and his heirs for ever. But Envy is ever consequent upon Good-luck and Prosperity, and Cuno found it so. There were many, amongst others, relations, who had hoped the Forestry for themselves, who persuaded the Duke that the shot had succeeded through the aid of devils’ arts and magic, that Cuno had not aimed at all, but taken a random-shot into the air, which must hit the mark; it was then determined upon, that every one of Cuno’s successors, ere he obtained the Forestry, should undergo a Trial-shot; or severe or light, as the then Hunting-master of the district should ordain. I was obliged, in consequence of this edict, to strike a ring from the beak of a wooden bird swinging on a pole. Now, since none have hitherto failed at this ordeal, he who as son-in-law would be my successor, must first be a dexterous huntsman.”

Wilhelm, to the Forester’s joy, had evinced a great interest in this narration. He gladly pressed the old man’s hand in his, and promised, under his guidance, to become a hunter such as should not shame the brave ancestral Cuno.

Wilhelm had served scarce fourteen days his pupilship at the Forest-lodge, when Bertram, who became every day the more attached to him, formally gave consent to his union with Kate. The espousals, however, were put off until the day of the Trial-shot, when the Forester hoped the festival would have more éclat from the presence of the Hunting-master. The bridegroom-elect was in extacies, and sank the memory of himself and of the whole world in the golden heaven of his love, so that old Bertram continually teazed him with the remark, “that he deserved to hit no more game, since he so effectually had struck home to the heart of Kate.”

Since the day of his betrothal, nothing but ill-luck in the chase had fallen to the lot of Wilhelm. First his gun began to miss fire; then he hit the trunks of trees instead of his mark. When he returned home, and emptied his hunting-pouch, in place of the partridge, he pulled forth a raven or a crow, and instead of the hare, a dead cat. The Forester gave him endless admonitions regarding his unwarrantable carelessness, and Kate herself began to feel anxious for the result of the Trial-shot.

Wilhelm redoubled his assiduity and zeal; still, as the eventful day approached upon which the ordeal should take place, his ill-luck seemed to follow him more and more. Every shot continually miscarried; at last he shuddered at the sight of a gun, as though he saw a ghost; already he had struck a cow in her pasture and nearly wounded the herdsman.

“I will stick to it”—said Rudolf the hunter, one evening—“something has set a snare about Wilhelm, which lies not in the natural course of things, and he first must break this spell.”

“Talk not so foolishly”—spake the Forester, reproachfully—“that is superstitious nonsense, such as no true hunter should suffer to pass his lips. Know you not, trusty huntsman mine, the three things a fortunate sportsman should have and may have? ho, ho, ho! say on.”

Rudolf cleared his throat for the hunter-adage, and spake quickly: “Ho, ho, ho! trusty huntsman mine, that can I quote ye well:—

“Enough!”—interrupted old Bertram—“let the hunter redeem himself with those three things, or be chronicled as a milk-heart and a ninny.”

“By your favor, father Bertram”—replied Wilhelm somewhat chafed—“here is my gun, I will see if anything shall hinder me on this point; then my knowledge—I will not speak in self-praise, but hope to prove sure marksman, aye, good and sure as any man; perhaps my bullets went amiss because the wind blew athwart my barrel. Only tell me how to act, most willingly will I obey.”

Tis passing strange!”—murmured the Forester, who knew not what to say in answer.

“Credit me, Wilhelm”—again chimed in Rudolf—“it is exactly as I have hinted. Hie thee some Friday at midnight to a cross-road, and draw a circle ’round thee with a ramrod or a bloody sword, only in the name of Samiel.........”

“Silence!”—cried the Forester angrily—“know ye not what that name imports? ’tis one of the Devil’s evil-spirits, from whom God defend thee, and all Christians likewise.”

Wilhelm crossed himself and would hear no more; Rudolf stuck to his own opinion. All night long the lad was occupied in rubbing his fowling-piece, he cleaned every screw and every spring, and with earliest dawn went forth to seek his luck anew.

All his courage, however, soon vanished, the game seemed to abound for the express purpose of cheating him. At ten paces distance he fired upon a roebuck, twice the rifle hung fire; the third time, the piece cer- Rh