Chapter II: Part 2

The song of the bell was of peace and good will toward men. The sounds echoed and re-echoed among the mountains, and were borne away to the farthest valleys.

Just as the first light of the sun peeped up over the horizon, the splendors faded from the tower and in their stead there appeared the figure of a man clad in light. Across the tower there seemed to be a row of letters. The people looked up and read: “Behold, the man who loved truly his fellow men.”

Then everyone fell to his knees, for there stood the figure of their King. Their hearts died within them, when they remembered how harshly they had spoken of him: but they rejoiced at the same time to know that it was he. They all rose up and went in haste to honor him whom they had scorned of late.

When they reached the palace gate, however, they were not permitted to enter. The angel who had rung the bell had entered the palace before them, and had taken away with him the imperial soul that had unselfishly loved his fellow men.

THE TWO BAKER BOYS

Many, many years ago the people in Germany lived in little towns with high walls around them. They built walls around their towns because they had quarrels with other towns. The walls protected them against their enemies.

Sometimes people kept bee-hives on the high walls. The bees could fly away into the fields outside and gather honey. There were not many flowers inside the city to get honey from.

One morning two baker boys were hungry. They had to get up very early. Some fine rolls had just been taken from the oven. The boys thought it would be fine to have some rolls and honey.

“Let’s go up on the walls and get some honey out of one of the hives,” said John.

“But the bees will sting us,” answered James. “Besides the watchman on the walls might see us. Then we would be in trouble of another kind.”

John, however, persuaded James to go. The two boys stole out of the shop, and ran across the street.

In a few minutes they were creeping up the stairs that led to the top of the wall.

There was no watchman to be seen. He had gotten sleepy probably, and had gone somewhere to rest. But there was a noise coming from somewhere.

The boys listened, but all was quiet again. They made their way quietly along the wall till they came to the hives.

Then they covered their faces and got ready to rob the bees of their treasure. John was just lifting the top from one of the hives, when he heard another strange noise. He dropped the hive hurriedly.

The noise seemed to come from the outside of the wall. The boys looked over, and saw a small army. It was the people of Linz, who had come to attack the town.

Both boys were terribly frightened at first. They saw, however, that something must be done to save the town.

“James,” said John, “you run yonder and ring the bell. I will tumble the bee-hives down on their heads.”

James did as he was told. John pushed a hive over the wall. It fell on the leader’s head and went to pieces. The bees were angry at being disturbed in this way. They flew at the men and stung their hands and faces, so that they were glad to run away.

Another bee-hive came tumbling down and then another. And the angry bees put the whole army to flight.

By this time the bell had called the people out to defend the town. But the army had already departed. The two boys and the bees had saved the town.

The boys were not punished. Instead the people praised them for their wise acts. It was decided to erect a monument in their honor.

One of the boys afterwards became mayor of the city. The other was long known as the most famous baker of his time.

THE EMPEROR’S WOOING

The little town of Caub is very old. Above it in olden days rose the Castle of Gutenfels. Here many years ago lived Philip, Count of Faulkenstein and his only sister, Guda. This brother and sister were orphans, and lived together there happily.

Many suitors had come to seek the hand of the beautiful Guda, but she was happy in her brother’s love and wished no other. Often Philip urged her to choose a husband from among the many wooers.

“My dear sister,” he said, “the time may come when I shall have to leave you. War may break out at any time.”

“I have no desire for any love or protection except yours, my dear Philip. I have never seen anyone as yet who has made me wish to leave you.”

Count Philip and Guda used to be a great deal together; where one went the other went, too. So when the great tournament was held at Cologne they set out together to see it. The tournament was attended by a large number of knights. One of them seemed to be greatly attracted by Guda’s beauty. He had won all the prizes in the contest, and yet remained unknown to everyone except the bishop.

The manners and conversation of the unknown knight pleased everyone, and especially the Count of Faulkenstein. So much was he charmed by the bearing of the victorious knight that he invited him to visit his castle at Gutenfels. This invitation the knight eagerly accepted.

Philip and Guda welcomed him warmly and were very much delighted with their new friend. The stranger’s admiration for Guda became more and more plain; day by day he grew fonder of the beautiful girl.

“I should delight in lingering here forever,” he said at last.

This, however, could not be, for there was a great war in Germany. The Emperor had died leaving no heir, so there were many who claimed the right to the throne. Richard of Cornwall had most supporters. Many of the nobles had declared for him, and were ready to take up arms in his behalf.

Among those who departed for the war was Philip Faulkenstein. He set out, leaving behind him his guest, who promised to follow within three days, to fight by his side.

“Before I go,” he declared, “I must receive a certain message.”

Two days later the message came. In the meantime the knight had won Guda’s love and her promise to wait for him until his return. So Guda was left alone in the Castle of Gutenfels. Many hours she spent thinking about her absent lover and wishing for his return.

At last the war was ended and her brother came back, yet Guda was not happy. She began to grow anxious, for she had received no tidings from her knight.

Weeks passed by. The anxious days stole the color from her cheeks. At last she withdrew to her chamber in sorrow, for she was sure that her knight was dead. She did not even wish to appear when the new Emperor, Richard of Cornwall came to visit her brother at the castle.

When the Imperial Guest came he was clad from head to foot in heavy armor. He refused even to raise his vizor.

“I have come,” he said, “on a personal errand. I have often heard of the great beauty of your sister Guda and I wish to make her Empress.”

Philip was overjoyed at the prospect of such a happy marriage for his sister. Joyfully he bore the Emperor’s offer to her.

“Alas, my brother,” she said, “it is impossible for me to accept the Emperor’s love; mine belongs to another.”

When her reply was carried to the Emperor, he listened calmly, without the least sign of displeasure.

“May I,” he said, “have the pleasure of beholding the lady? Perhaps I may be able to win a more favorable answer.”

With vizor still lowered, and speaking in muffled tones, the Emperor addressed Guda.

“Why, fair lady, do you refuse the suit of your Emperor? Forget your former lover; he is either dead or faithless.”

“Sire,” she replied, “you do me the greatest honor in the world, yet can I not accept it. I must remain true to him to whom I have given my love. He may be dead, but I am sure he is not faithless.”

At this the Emperor threw up his vizor and clasped Guda in his arms. As she looked into his bright face, she recognized him who had won her love as a simple knight.

She no longer refused to listen to his suit. Soon afterward she married Richard Cornwall and became Empress of Germany.

THE MAGIC RING

Charlemagne was king of France and emperor of Germany. He had married a beautiful eastern princess, whose name was Frastrada. His love for her was so great that his only thought was to give her happiness. All wondered at his devotion, but none suspected the cause.

Frastrada had a wonderful gold ring. On it were inscribed mystic signs. Frastrada wore the ring continually, and it was this magic talisman that had worked such a charm.

But the new queen did not long enjoy her power. A great illness overtook her. During this time she thought often of the magic treasure and feared it would pass into other hands. So she slipped the ring from her finger into her mouth and quietly breathed her last.

The Emperor was quite overcome with grief. He refused to have the queen taken to the cathedral, but stayed constantly by her side.

In vain the councilors and courtiers plead with him. In vain Turpin, the prime minister, told him that the people had need of him. He refused to leave the chamber where the queen lay, or to partake of food. At last he fell asleep at his post.

Turpin felt convinced that the queen possessed some charm, so he stole noiselessly to her bedside. After some time he found the ring. He concealed it in his own clothing, and sat down to wait for Charlemagne to awaken.

Soon the Emperor opened his eyes. He turned from the queen with a shudder.

“Turpin, my faithful friend!” he cried, as he threw himself in the arms of the prime minister. “Your presence is like balm to my wounded heart! You shall remain by my side forever!”

From that time on, Turpin was forced to accompany Charlemagne wherever he went. The courtiers wondered at Turpin’s influence. Many of them were quite jealous. As for poor Turpin, he was wearied beyond all expression. He could find no rest either by night or by day. Vainly he sought for some plan by which he might rid himself of the troublesome gem.

At length it happened that Charlemagne and Turpin set out from the palace of Ingelheim on a journey to the north. They camped one night in a great forest. While his master lay asleep Turpin left the camp and wandered out into the moonlight alone. Not once before, since he had found the ring, had he been free from the Emperor.

His heart swelled with a feeling of relief as he plunged into the pathless forest. On and on he wandered, trying to think of some way to rid himself of the troublesome ring. Like Frastrada, he did not want anyone else to come into possession of it and thus get such an influence over the Emperor.

After long wandering he found himself at the opening of a beautiful glade. Before him lay a quiet pool embosomed in the dark woods. The moonlight flooded the retired spot and shone like silver over the deep and quiet waters.

Turpin was lost in admiration. He sat down on a stone and feasted his eyes in silence on the peaceful beauty of the scene. Soon the thought of the magic ring came to disturb his happiness.

“What shall I do with it?” he groaned.

He drew it from its hiding place in his breast and examined it closely.

“Ah!” he muttered, “what is this I see?”

He noticed by the pale light of the moon that the ring bore something else beside the strange signs. On it was the image of a tiny swan. He looked at it in amazement; for he had never seen the swan before.

He started up, then stopped suddenly.

“Why not?” he asked himself. “Those deep and quiet waters would soon close over and conceal the ring forever.”

A moment later the jewel flashed beneath the rays of the moon. A slight splash was borne along by the night air. Ever widening ripples broke the mirror-like surface of the pool. In the distance a snowy swan appeared sailing with stately calm over the ruffled waters.

Delighted to be rid of the hateful jewel, Turpin now made his way back to the tent. Charlemagne was awake and greeted him as in the days of old. The charm was broken.

The morning sun rose bright and clear. The Emperor, however, became restless. He proposed that they tarry in the spot another day and hunt in the forest. Turpin agreed, and soon the forest echoes were awakened by the clangor of the hunting horns.

A royal stag was started from covert. Closely the huntsmen and hounds followed it. At last, panting and exhausted, it was brought to bay in a remote glade,--the very place which Turpin had visited the night before.

Charlemagne had been foremost in the chase all the morning. Now he sat motionless in his saddle, gazing in spellbound admiration at the sunny stretch of water. He observed the reflection of the blue sky, and the swans gliding over its smooth surface.

“Ah! how beautiful!” he exclaimed. “I would fain linger here forever.”

Then he dismounted and threw himself down upon the smooth grass by the edge of the pool. There he remained in dreamy content all day long.

At last the shadows began to lengthen. The glow of the setting sun was reflected in the miniature lake. Charlemagne was so enchanted with the scene that he vowed to build a castle there. The vow was kept, and the structure that arose was the beginning of Charlemagne’s capital and favorite city, Aix-la-Chapelle.

When many years had passed, death came to the great Emperor. He was laid at rest in the cathedral vault, not far from the spot he loved so well.

Strangers visiting Aix-la-Chapelle are told not to visit the magic pool by moonlight. At the mystic hour when Turpin dropped the ring into the quiet waters, the spell recovers all its former powers. Accordingly, should any one visit it at that time, his longing heart would always lead him back to the charmed spot, however far away he might be wandering in the wide world.

CHARLEMAGNE’S GENEROSITY

Charlemagne had had a new palace built for him in a beautiful spot near the Rhine. When it was completed he went to visit it. The first night that he slept in the palace, a very strange incident occurred. An angel came and stood by his bedside.

“Arise,” it seemed to say to him, “arise, go forth and enter secretly the house of Arnot.”

The Emperor was so astonished at this command that he did not know what to do. He could scarcely believe that such an order could come from an angel, so he did not move, but the command was repeated, and then repeated again.

When the angel commanded him the third time to go and enter secretly the house of Arnot, he arose, went quietly to his stable, saddled his horse himself, and rode silently out into the darkness, in the direction of the home of Arnot, one of his most trusted ministers.

As he was going along the dark way thoughtfully, he heard someone approaching, and he soon perceived that it was a knight clad in dark armor. Charlemagne could think of no good mission upon which a man could be riding at such an hour; so he challenged the man.

“Whither goest thou, and upon what mission at this hour of the night?” he demanded.

The knight did not answer, but put spurs to his horse and charged upon the Emperor. Seeing this movement, the Emperor did likewise, and the two met with a violent shock. Both were unhorsed, and in the hand to hand conflict which followed, the Emperor got the better of the unknown knight and brought him to the ground. With his sword at the throat of the knight he demanded his name.

“I am Elbegast,” he replied, “a notorious robber knight, and have committed many a bold deed. Thou art the first that has had power to overcome me.”

“Arise,” said the Emperor, without telling who he was, “and come with me. I am on a mission like thine own.”

Without hesitating, the robber knight joined his conqueror.

“I have vowed,” said the Emperor, “not to return home until I have broken into the house of the Emperor’s most trusted minister.” So saying, he led the way to the house of Arnot.

Elbegast was not long in gaining entrance. Bidding his companion wait for him outside, he stole noiselessly into the house.

As he approached the bed room of the minister, the sound of voices in earnest conversation came to his ears. He listened, and heard the minister disclose to his wife a plan for the murder of the Emperor on the following day.

Forgetting the purpose for which he had come to the house, the knight made his way hastily back to his companion and besought him to go at once to Charlemagne and inform him of the coming danger.

“I, myself would gladly go to save the Emperor’s life, but I would surely get into trouble, because of my many evil deeds, and more than likely the Emperor would not believe me. But whatever I have done, I hold great admiration for the man who has never been conquered in battle, and who has always worked for the good of his people.”

Then Charlemagne and Elbegast parted, one returning to his stronghold in the mountains and the other retracing his steps slowly and thoughtfully to his palace.

On the morrow the ministers attempted to carry out the plot which they had formed against the Emperor; but their plans were thwarted. Charlemagne took all of them into custody and they confessed their plot against him.

Charlemagne, however, was of a noble and generous nature, and pardoned all those who had conspired against him. This generosity on his part made them so ashamed of their plot that they vowed to serve him ever afterward with all true loyalty. And it is said that every one of them kept his promise faithfully.

Charlemagne then set his mind upon reforming Elbegast, and sent a messenger to him, requesting him to come to the palace.

“I, Charlemagne, Emperor of Germany,” his message ran, “would speak privately with Elbegast, the robber knight, and promise him safe conduct to and from the castle.”

Elbegast came to the palace in response to the request of Charlemagne, and was admitted to the private council chamber. Soon a man entered, clad in armor; and Elbegast recognized the knight who had been his companion on the adventure to the house of Arnot.

“Elbegast,” said Charlemagne, “you recognize me and yet you do not know me.”

Then Charlemagne raised his visor, and the knight saw that he was standing in the presence of the Emperor.

“You have done me,” went on the Emperor, “faithful duty, and I am ever in need of faithful servants, and offer you a place among my retainers. A man of your courage and skill is worthy of a place in the Emperor’s service.”

Elbegast was so moved that he could scarcely speak. Charlemagne was the only man who had ever been able to disarm him, and he therefore admired him greatly. More than this, the kindness of the Emperor appealed to him. Accordingly he willingly forsook his evil way of life and became a devoted follower of the Emperor.

THE SILVER BRIDGE

There was a spot on the Rhine near the little hamlet of Kempten that Charlemagne, the great Emperor, always loved. There the sun seemed ever to shine more brightly than elsewhere; there the air was balmiest; and there the quiet and peacefulness always calmed his spirit, and filled it with joy.

To this place he seemed always to come when he was worried with matters of state. When he returned from a journey or a war, he always paid his first visit to this lovely spot.

All his life long, this was the favorite spot of the great Emperor. He loved to see it by daylight, and he loved it by moonlight. Often did he wander there at night, when all the rest of the world was asleep. The green hills, the vineclad slopes, and the pleasant glades were more soothing to him than sleep.

He even desired to be buried in this place, but his people would not have it so; and the great man was buried in state in the beautiful cathedral that he had built at Aix-la-Chapelle.

But even after death his spirit longed to visit the spot that had brought so much peace into his life. It is said that his spirit visits the place yearly in the late summer time, even to this day.

On the most beautiful moonlight night of all the year, people say, Charlemagne leaves his tomb in the great cathedral and comes to this quiet valley of the Rhine. He comes not to do harm, nor simply to rest and enjoy the place. His purpose is to bless the spot which was such a blessing to him during his life.

On the nights when Charlemagne’s spirit visits the place, the silvery moonbeams may be seen to make a fairy bridge across the river. On this bridge the great monarch’s spirit passes across the Rhine.

He glides back and forth, bestowing his blessing on everything in the neighborhood. Every little village, every cottage, every hill and valley, the vineyards, the shore, and the great peaceful river itself--all receive his blessing.

Last of all he visits the palace which he built here and called Ingelheim, or Angel’s Home. From here he returns to his rest again.

The people in this little valley are said to be more prosperous than those of any other locality along the Rhine. They are also more happy and more healthy. Their vineyards are always richly laden with beautiful clusters of grapes.

If at any time their vineyards do not bear, the people know that for some mysterious reason the spirit of Charlemagne failed to pay the yearly visit. They look forward, however, to the coming year, knowing that their harvest will be greater than ever.

The great spirit of the Emperor never fails them two years together. So century after century Charlemagne has bestowed his blessing on this country that he loved. On moonlight nights the people along the river will point out to you the silver bridge on which he passes back and forth over the river visiting blessing upon everyone.

THE PET RAVEN

Over the gate of the Castle of Stolzenfels is the figure of a Raven. It has been there for several hundred years. It was placed there in gratitude for the help a pet raven had rendered the Princess at a time when she was in great danger.

Othmar and Williswind were brother and sister. Since the death of their parents they had lived together in the beautiful castle, and had grown to love each other dearly. They were always together.

The time came when war broke out, and Othmar was called away. His going grieved Williswind sorely. Now she would have no one but the servants with her in the great Castle.

“My dear brother,” she exclaimed, “what shall I do without you?”

“Sister mine,” replied Othmar, “I grieve to leave you thus alone, but you know it is impossible for me to do otherwise.”

Othmar took with him all the able bodied men. Only the old men, women and children were left at home to protect his sister.

In those days many lawless robber knights roamed through the forests, doing whatever pleased them. Afraid of these, Williswind ordered that the Castle gates should be kept closed all the time.

One evening as she sat in the great hall of the Castle with her servants about her, a trumpet sounded at the gate. The women stopped their spinning, and the men ceased their polishing of arms and armor. The Warder entered announcing that there was a pilgrim at the gate begging for shelter.

“Admit him at once,” said Williswind.

In a few moments the Warder returned, accompanied by the pilgrim.

“Be welcome to our cheer, stranger. Such as we have we give freely,” said Williswind.

“Thanks, fair lady, for your kindness,” replied the stranger, glancing about the room.

The pilgrim was clad in worn garments, yet did not seem like a beggar. At times cruelty and cunning appeared in his face. Secretly he looked about as if to examine every part of the castle. His strange manner caused Williswind great uneasiness. The thought came to her that he might possibly be a robber knight in disguise.

In the morning, however, the pilgrim departed peaceably, and the young princess felt calm once more. The days passed quietly by and Williswind began to look forward to her brother’s return. One morning the pilgrim suddenly returned, but not this time in pilgrims garments. He was clad in full armor, and came with a large number of followers.

“I come,” he said, “to demand the hand of the Princess Williswind in marriage, and if she denies me I will take her by force.”

“I beseech you,” replied Williswind, “depart and leave me in peace. I have love for none but my brother, and desire only to be left here with my servants to await quietly his return.”

But the evil knight only repeated his demand, saying that he would return in three days for an answer. If at the end of that time Williswind did not consent freely, he would take the Castle by force and carry her away.

What was to be done? Her brother was too far away to come to her aid. She decided, however, to send a message to him, asking him to come at once.

Knowing that it would be unsafe for the princess to remain in the Castle the old Warder persuaded Williswind to set out for a Convent, which was not many miles away.

The robber knight, however, had left spies all about the castle and the princess had not gone very far with her followers, when they were overtaken by the knight himself.

The servants with Williswind fought bravely, but they were soon overcome. The bold knight carried Williswind and her maid off to a lonely tower in the woods.

“Here I shall leave you,” he said; “but I will return in three days to receive your answer.”

Then he locked the heavy door, and left them alone. The two captives looked about for means of escape, but they found only thick walls and heavily barred doors and windows. All about them was nothing but wilderness, so they could expect aid from no passerby. Escape was hopeless.

They looked about the tower for food and water, but none was to be found. The unhappy girls sat and waited anxiously. They looked through the barred windows. The hours seemed days. Suddenly Williswind gave a cry of joy.

“Oh, look,” she said, “yonder is my pet raven.”

She whistled to the raven. It recognized her voice and came at once. She and Othmar had spent many happy hours together, teaching the raven to do various things. Among other things, it had learned to bring berries.

The bird at once seemed to understand everything, and went out into the woods. Soon it returned with a few berries. Back and forth it went during the whole day, bringing berries to the two hungry girls. The next day and the day after, it kept them supplied with this kind of food.

On the third day the robber knight reappeared. He felt sure that Williswind would by this time be ready to agree to accept him, but his hope was in vain. The food which the bird had brought had increased her courage.

“Not for all the wealth of India,” she said, “would I consent to your proposal.”

Angrily the knight rode away, declaring that he would return again in three days more. The time passed very slowly in the gloomy tower. In spite of the raven’s faithful visits, the girls became faint and weak from hunger.

On the sixth day Williswind was sitting at the window, watching eagerly for the bird’s return. Suddenly she saw the figure of a knight come from the thicket. As she looked at him, she saw that it was not the robber knight; his armor was entirely different. Hope came to her at once, and she called out loudly and waved her handkerchief through the bars.

The knight heard the call and turned in the direction of the tower. Williswind uttered a cry of rapture; it was her brother. In his haste to reach home as quickly as possible, he had taken this path through the forest.

Just at this moment the robber knight came riding up. Seeing Othmar he challenged him to fight. Down across the open space before the tower the two horses came, and met with a loud clash in the center. Othmar held his saddle, but the robber knight was stretched upon the ground.

Othmar was not a little surprised when he entered the old Castle to find that it was his beloved sister who had called to him from the tower. It was not long before Williswind was safe once more in the beautiful Castle of Stolzenfels.

Othmar was greatly pleased at the skill with which the raven had provided for his sister, so he adopted a new Coat-of-Arms, with the raven as his emblem, and set the little figure above the gate of the Castle, to tell to all the world the story of the faithful raven.

THE NIGHT OF THE STOLEN TREASURE

Little Hans and his mother were standing down by the Mummelsee. It was a big round sheet of water, surrounded by rocky slopes. On these grew dark pine trees, which cast their shadows far out into the water.

The water lay quietly sleeping in its dark bed. The stillness made little Hans thoughtful, and he crept close to his mother.

“Why is the water so still?” he whispered; “and the fish,--where are they?”

“Listen,” answered his mother, “and I will tell you a story. There are no longer any fish in the Mummelsee; they left it many, many years ago. The place is haunted by Mummel, a great water god, and by his daughters, the beautiful water sprites.

“Long years ago,” the mother went on, “a man committed a great crime in order that he might get a rich treasure. In his flight he came to the Mummelsee. He could not swim across with the bag of treasure! What should he do? He knew that he would be caught unless he did something at once.

“‘Ah! I will just drop it into the edge of the lake,’ he said to himself. ‘The water is dark and no one will be able to find the Treasure. I will hide myself in the thick bushes, and there I will be safe also.’

“He crawled into the bushes where they were thickest. But something was wrong; the bushes seemed like so many hands, that caught hold of him, and held him fast. He could not move. He struggled and struggled, but the more he fought against them, the more firmly they held on.

“He gave up the struggle, and lay quiet, looking out upon the dark water. He saw something that was still more strange. What could it be? It looked like the form of a giant rising from the water. The face was sterner than any he had ever seen.”

“What was it, mother?” asked little Hans; “was it a ghost?”

“It was Mummel, the great angry god, who haunts the lake. He had never allowed his peace to be disturbed in the slightest way. No one could throw even a pebble into the lake without being punished by him.

“Now he rose out of the water; and seized the frightened man. The bushes let go their hold on him as if by magic; and, without saying a word the stern god began to sink down, down into the cold, black water.”

“Oh,” cried Hans, “was the man drowned?”

“No,” answered his mother, “he was not drowned. The great god drew him down, down to the bottom of the lake, where he has a wonderful palace. In it there are all kinds of strange creatures.”

“But what does the man do down there? Is he still alive?”

“Yes; Mummel will not let him die; but keeps him, and makes him serve in the kitchen year after year.”

“And does he not have any rest or any holidays?”

“He does not need rest down there, because he is no longer mortal like us. But once a year he ceases, for a single night, to serve in the kitchen. He becomes a mortal again and comes back to earth.

“Every year on the day on which he committed his crime, he puts on his earthly clothes and comes up. And when he reaches the world, he suddenly finds himself at the place where he stole the treasure.

“He hears some one coming, and starts to flee with the treasure on his back. Each time, he comes to the same spot on Mummelsee, and throws the sack into the lake. Just as before, too, he tries to hide in the bushes and is caught and held by them.

“Every year Mummel, angry as before, comes up and drags the man out of the bushes, and draws him down to his palace again.

“Many people have heard the strange noises in the bushes along the shore of the lake. Some of them imagine, too, that they have seen a strange form rising from the waters. They declare that on this night the lake is greatly disturbed. The wind is loud, and the bushes bend their heads down to the very water.

“On the night when these strange things happen, people are careful to avoid the place. Although they like to go there at other times, they would not wish to be found there on the Night of the Stolen Treasure.”

THE WATER SPRITES

Mummel, the great angry water god, has many beautiful daughters. These he guards jealously, and will allow no one to see them in their maiden forms except by the dim moonlight.

These beautiful water nymphs are not at all like their stern father. They are pure, and gentle and graceful and kind. They never do harm to anyone, and are not displeased if people come to visit the lake. Indeed they like to have people come to see them dance upon the water at night.

These lovely creatures would gladly help people if their father did not guard them so jealously; for they are kind-hearted and generous.

As it is, all they can do for mortals is to entertain them with their fairy dances on the silvery waters of Mummelsee. On every moonlight night they can be seen flitting about on the surface of that.

Their fairy forms are so charming that people who see them cannot help forgetting their daily cares. People come to the lake tired and careworn in the evening, and go away happy and cheerful.

All night long, till the first streaks of dawn, the fairy nymphs can be seen, flitting charmingly from wave to wave. Their gowns are light and flowing like gossamers. Their beautiful golden hair, too, floats lightly on the gentle breeze.

Once or twice, it is said, daring youths have been drawn by their beauty, and have ventured into the lake to meet them. Every attempt, however, has been disastrous. Mummel has caught the intruder and taken him down to his abode below the lake. There the unhappy youth has had to act as a servant.

Whenever anyone attempts to come too close to his daughters, too, Mummel takes away their human shapes at once. He transforms them into water lilies, and makes them stand with bowed heads along the farther shore of the lake.

Every morning, too, as soon as the first light of day begins to appear, the beautiful figures leave their fairy dance upon the lake. Mummel transforms them into their lily forms and makes them stand in the water along the shore.

So the beautiful water lilies which are to be seen in Mummelsee are the lovely water sprites, daughters of Mummel. No one is allowed to pick one even to this day.

THE GIANT MAIDEN

Many years ago there lived a mighty race of giants. They were as tall as the hills, and dwelt in great castles as large as mountains. To them the world was a very small place indeed.

These giants loved the world, however, and all the many beautiful things in it. The sunshine, the song of birds, the green fields, the woods, the rivers, and the blue sky were all charming to them.

So it was that they used to walk a great deal. They used to go everywhere and see everything that was good to see. When they walked, however, they stepped from hilltop to hilltop. They never went down into the valleys.

The king of the giants was a great and a good man. He was kind to his people, and kind to his children, and they all loved and honored him. One of his children was a beautiful girl. She would soon be a woman, but she still loved playthings.

Like the rest of the giants, Hilda, the king’s daughter, liked to go walking out into the world. She often found most interesting playthings. Sometimes she would bring home a bear, or a baby elephant.

One day Hilda went out for a walk. She had had to stay in the castle for several days because of the rain. This was a beautiful day, however, and she walked a long way, even for a giant’s daughter.

The maiden stepped over valley after valley, from hilltop to hilltop, till she was far away from home. She had never gone so far before. The country seemed quite different, and it was pleasant, too.

At last she stopped and looked about her to enjoy the scene. Before her was a wide valley, and in it she saw many curious things. One of them was a man plowing with horses. She had never seen anything like that before.

“Oh!” she cried, “what cute playthings they will make! They will be real live playthings, too. How nice the little creature is that walks behind! And the thing he is holding; that will make a fine toy. And the other animals will be such lovely pets. I must have them all.”

Hilda reached down into the valley and picked up the man, the plow, and the horses, and tucked them away in her apron. Then she went home to tell her father.

“See what lovely playthings I have found!” she called to him, as she ran into the great castle.

“My darling child,” said the good King, “these are not playthings. You must take them back and leave them where you found them. You must never touch them again. This is a man, and he has a wife and children at home. They will be very sad if he does not come back to them.

“By and by,” he went on, “the whole world will be owned by little creatures like this man, and we shall be no more.”

The King’s daughter was very sad when she heard these things. She did not want to give up such delightful playthings. But she had a kind heart, and she loved her father. She knew, too, that he understood things much better than she did. So she put the man, the plow, and the horses into her apron again, and took them back to the place where she had found them.

The man was very happy when she set him down in the field again. His good wife, and his children were there, too; and they rejoiced to see him again. They feared something had happened to him.

The maiden looked on for a time, wondering about it all. It made her glad to see how happy the man and his wife and children were. She was no longer, sorry that she had given up her playthings, and she went home with a light heart.

THE SWAN KNIGHT

Elsa was a very beautiful girl. She lived with her father, the Duke of Brabant. Her father loved her very much, so they lived happily in their lovely home. But one day Elsa’s father died, leaving her all of his lands and castles. Then she had no one to care for her, and she was very unhappy indeed.

The Duke of Brabant had had a trusted friend, Frederick of Telramund. He undertook the care of Elsa; but he did not guard the lonely maiden as her father would have wished. Indeed, this man tried to force her to marry him, that he might obtain all of her wealth.

In vain the lovely Elsa declared she did not love him. In vain she appealed to his chivalry. He cared nothing for her tears, but cruelly cast her into a damp prison close by the rushing river. There she must suffer in loneliness until she would obey the will of Telramund.

At last Elsa sent a long message to Henry I. begging him for aid. He decided that the matter should be settled in the lists. Elsa should choose a champion to fight with Frederick of Telramund.

Poor Elsa lost all hope when she heard this decision. She knew full well that no knight in the neighborhood would dare accept a challenge from Telramund; for Telramund had fought many times and had never been defeated. Day after day the herald sought someone to battle for Elsa’s rights. It was as she had feared, no one answered the call.

Forsaken by all, the orphan girl turned to the helper of the helpless. Night and day she knelt in her narrow cell and prayed. In her great grief she struck her breast with the rosary clasped in her little hands.

The little bell attached to the rosary, gave forth a low tinkling sound. These silvery tones were very soft and faint. They could scarcely be heard above the roar of the waters rushing past the tower. But they floated out through the narrow window into the open air.

The winds of heaven caught up the sounds and whirled them rapidly away. Farther and farther they traveled, louder and louder they became. At last it seemed as if all the bells on earth had united to ring forth one grand deafening peal.

These loud and pleading tones reached even into the far distant temple on Montsalvat. Here King Parsifal and his train of dauntless knights kept constant watch over the Holy Grail. The King was greatly alarmed by the tones. He knew that some poor creature needed aid, and so hastened into his inner temple.

Within this holy place there stood a beautiful vase, giving forth its rosy light. On its bright edge the King read the message from heaven. “Send Lohengrin to defend his future bride, but let her trust him and never seek to know his origin.” These were the strange words which met the aged King’s eyes.

The King immediately sent for his son. Lohengrin was a brave young knight. He had been trained to receive the messages of the Holy Grail with the most perfect faith. When he heard the words from his father, he put on his armor, spoke his farewells, and at once prepared to mount his waiting steed.

Suddenly sweet music fell upon his ear. He had never heard anything like it on land or sea. Soft, low, and sweet, it rose and fell and rose again. Then, in the distance, Lohengrin saw a stately swan come floating toward him. It drew behind it a little skiff. Nearer and nearer came the stately swan, clearer and sweeter rose the mystic strain. Both came to a pause close by the shore where the wondering knight stood.

Lohengrin sprang at once into the skiff. The swan took up its song again, and soon bore him out of sight.

The day for the tournament had dawned. The last preparations had been made. Many knights had gathered to view the scene. Yet not one dared to offer himself as champion for the lovely maiden.

Elsa clung to her prison bars. Tearfully she repeated for the last time her prayers.

“Send Thou the deliverer, O Lord!” she cried.

All at once her sobs ceased. The far away sounds of music fell comfortingly upon her ear. She looked out eagerly. There she beheld a spotless swan floating gently down the stream, skillfully guiding a little boat. In the boat a knight in full armor lay fast asleep on a glittering shield.

Just as the swan passed beneath the window where Elsa stood, the knight awoke. His first glance rested upon her tear-stained face.

“Weep no more, fair maiden!” he cried, springing to his feet. “Fear naught! I have come to defend you!”

The skiff passed on down the river. The prison door opened, and Frederick of Telramund appeared to lead Elsa to the lists. A smile of triumph curled his cruel lips as he heard the herald give the last call for Elsa’s champion. The sound of the trumpets died away and Frederick had turned to address Elsa. Suddenly a ringing voice came from the end of the lists.

“Here am I, the Swan Knight, ready to fight for the rights of the Princess. I will win her cause or die.”

A cry of admiration arose from the crowd, as they turned toward the Rhine. There they saw a handsome knight, standing erect in a tiny skiff drawn by a swan. Spellbound they watched him. He sprang lightly ashore and sent the swan away. It floated down the river and out of sight, giving forth its own beautiful, dreamy song.

For a moment Lohengrin knelt at Elsa’s feet, making a solemn vow to save her. Then he mounted his waiting steed, drew down his visor, and took his place in the lists.

The struggle began. Breathlessly the knights and ladies watched it. Nothing could be heard but the clank of steel, the heavy breathing of the two knights, and the tramp of their horses feet. The dust almost hid them from view.

Suddenly a terrible blow was heard. The great frame of Frederick of Telramund was seen to sway for a moment in the saddle, then to fall and roll in the dust. In a moment Lohengrin had dismounted. He stood with one foot on Telramund’s breast, ordering him to surrender.

Triumphant cries and joyful trumpets told of the victory. Cheer after cheer rang through the summer air, as Lohengrin knelt before Elsa once more. The cries of the knights and ladies were loud and long. They almost drowned Elsa’s sweet voice as she bade her champion rise and name his own reward.

Though the low spoken tones had been unheeded by the people, not one word had been lost by Lohengrin.

“Tempt me not, oh noble lady!” he replied. “Here at your feet where I would linger forever, I cannot but confess how much I love you, and how I hope some day to claim your hand.”

The pretty flush on Elsa’s soft cheeks deepened at these words. The long lashes drooped over the beautiful eyes. Timidly she held out her hand.

“You saved me, sir knight,” she softly whispered. “I am yours!”

Not a word of this conversation had been heard by the people, for their shouts had been redoubled as the knight bent low over Elsa’s hand and pressed it to his lips.

Before night, however, Elsa’s promise to become the knight’s bride had gone abroad. Preparations for the marriage were begun at once.

Elsa had trembled with fear at the thought of a union with Frederick of Telramund, yet she did not hesitate in the least to give herself to the strange knight who had saved her. Nor did she doubt him when he told her that she must never seek to know either his name or his origin.

These must remain a secret from her and from all the people or they would have to part forever.

Many knights and ladies attended the marriage ceremony. The young Lohengrin and his lovely bride lived peacefully and happily for many years. Their love for each other grew deeper and better as one by one three beautiful children came to add to their happiness.

But Elsa, though perfectly content with her husband’s unchanging love, could not but notice that many of her people secretly doubted him. They tried many times, and in many different ways to discover his name and origin.

Little by little, she, too, began to wonder. The more she thought of it, the more she longed to know her husband’s secret. Finally, as she was seated by him one day, she suddenly turned to him and asked the forbidden question.

“Elsa! Elsa! Is your faith dead?” cried the Swan Knight in broken voice. “Can you no longer trust me? I love you so, and now I must leave you. Our happiness is at an end! But, before I go, your question shall be answered. Come with me!”

His pale face and despairing glance brought Elsa to her senses. With a loving cry she flung herself on his breast, begging him to forgive and forget her question. He sadly shook his head.

“It is too late, Elsa,” he replied, “too late! You have doubted me; and I must leave you; but before I go you shall know all.”

The knights had gathered in the great banqueting hall near the Rhine. They started up in surprise when their master suddenly came in their midst. He led the pale and weeping Elsa gently by the hand.

“Listen, oh, knights,” he began. “The time has come when I must leave you. Before I go, it is right that you should know that I am Lohengrin, son of Parsifal, the great king. I was sent hither by the Holy Grail, to save your princess, Elsa, from Frederick of Telramund. Now the Holy Vessel calls me and I must go. Ere I depart, I ask you to watch faithfully over my little ones and to wipe away their mother’s tears. Farewell!”

Then in the midst of the silence which followed these words, while he held Elsa in a last fond embrace, the low strains of the sweet music again came floating down the Rhine. A moment later the swan appeared.

Slowly Lohengrin tore himself away from Elsa’s trembling arms. He sprang down the steps and into the waiting swan boat. Away it glided to the strains of sad music, and bore him out of sight forever.

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Transcriber’s note:

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.