Evening Star Newspaper, October 5, 1895, Page 18

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18 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. THE LOVE OF THE PRINCE OF GLOTTENBERG, ——_+—_— BY ANTHONY HOPE, ‘Author of “The Prisoner of Zenda,” “The Dolly Dialogues,” etc. eects Acct (Copyright, 1895, by A. H. Hawkins.) It was in the spring of the year that Ludwig, Prince of Glottenberg, came court- ing the Princess Osra; for his father had ought the most beautiful lady of a royal ‘house in Europe, and had found none to equal Osra. Therefore, the prince came to BStrelsau with a great retinue and was lodged in the White Palace which stood on the outskirts of the city, where the public gardens now are (for the palace itself was sacked and burned by the people in the rising of 1848). Here Ludwig stayed many days, coming every day to the king’s palace to pay his respects to the king and queen and to make his court to the princess. King Rudolf had recetved him with the utmost friendship and was, for reasons of state then of great moment, but now of vanished interest, as eager for the match as was the King of Glottenberg himself, and he grew very impatient with his sister when she hesitated to accept Ludwig’s hand, alleging that she felt for him no more than a kindly esteem and, what was as much to the pur- pese, that he felt no more for her. For al- though the prince possessed most courteous and winning manners and was very accom- plished both in learning and in exercises, yet he was a grave and pensive young man, rather stately than jovial, and seemed in the princess’ eyes (accustomed as they were to catch and check ardent glances) to perform his wooing more as a duty of his station than on the impulse of any passion. Find- ing in herself also no such sweet ashamed emotions as had before now crossed her heart on account of lesser men, she grew exe and troubled; and she said to the ng: “Brother, is this love? For I had as leave he were away as here, and when he is here, end Kisses my hand as though it were a statue’s hand; ard—and I feel as though it They say you know what love is. Is tris love “There are many forms of love,” smiled the king. “This is such love as a prince and a princess may most properly feel.’” “I do not call it love at all,” said Osra with a pout. When Prince Ludwig came next day to see her and told her, with grave courtesy, that his pleasure lay in doing her will, she E1oke out: “I had rather it lay in watching my face,” [ee then ashamed she turned away from im. He seemed grieved and hurt at her words; and it was with a sigh that he said: “My life shall be given to giving you joy.” She turned round cn him with flushed cheek and trembling lips. “Yes, but I had rather it were spent in getting joy from me.” He cast down his eyes for a moment and then, taking her hand, Kissed ft, but she drew it away sharply, and so that after- ucon they parted, he back to his palace, she to her chamber, where she sat, asking again, “Is this love?” and crying, “He does not know love’ anl pausing now and again, before her mirror, to ask her pic- tured face why it would not unlock the door of love. On another day she would be merry, or feign merriment, rallying him on his so! ber air and formal compliments, profess'n that for her part she soon grew weary of such wooing, and loved to be easy and merry, for thus she hoped to sting him, so that he would either disclose more warmth or forsake altogether his pursuits. But he made many apologiés, Blaming nature that had made him, grave, but assuring her of his deep affection and respect. “Affection and respect!” murmured Osra, with a little toss of her head. “Oh, that I had not been born a princess: And yet, though she did not love him, she thought him a very noble gentleman and trusted ‘to hs honor and sincerity in everything. Therefore, when he still persisted and Rndolf and the queen urged her, telling her (the king mockingly, the queen with a touch of sadness) that she must not look to find in this werld such love as romantic girls dreamt of, at last she yielded, and she told her b:other that she would marry Prince Ludwig, yet for a little while she would not have the news proclaimed. So Rudolf went, alone and privately, to the White Palace and said to Ludwig: ‘Cousin, you have won the fairest lady in the world. Beho!d, her brother says it!” Prince Ludwig bowed low, and, taking the king’s hana, pressed it, thanking him for tis. help and approval, and expressing himself as most grateful for the boon of the princess” favor. “And will you not come with me and find her?” cried the king with a merry look. ‘I have urgent business now,” answered Ludw.g. “Beg the princess to forgive me. ‘This afternoon I will crave the honor of waiting on her with my humble gratitude.” King Rudolf looked at him, a smile curl- ing on his lips, and he said, in one of his ts of impatience: By heaven, ig there another man in the world who would talk of gratitude, and business, and the afternoon, when Osra of Strelsau sat waiting for him?” “I mean no discourtes: protested Lud- wig, taking the king’s arm and glancing at nim with most friendly eyes. “Indee: dear friend, I am rejoiced and honored. But this business of mine will net wait. So the king, frowning, and grumbling and laughing, went back alone and told the princess that the happy wooer was most grateful and would come after his business was transacted, that afternoon. But Osra, having given her hand, would now admit no fault in the man she had chosen and thanked the king for the mes- sege with great dignity. Then the king came to her, and, sitting down by her, stroked hr hair, saying softly: “You have had many lovers, sister Osra— ow comes a husband.” now a husband,” she murmured, eatchn gs swiftly at his hand, and her voice was half caught in a sudden sob. (0 goes the world—our world,” said the king, knitting his brows and seeming to fall for a moment into a sad reveri “I am frightened,” she whispered. I be frightened if I loved him?” “[ have been told so,” said the king, smiling again. “But the fear has a way of beng mastered then.” And he drew her to him and gave her a hearty brother's kiss, telling her to take heart. “You'll thaw the fellow out,” sald the king, “though I grant you he is icy enough. For the king himself had been by no neans what he called an icy man. But Osra was not satisfied and sought to assuage the pain of her heart, by adorning herself most carefully for the prince’s com- ing, hoping to fire him to love. For she thought that if he loved she might, al- though since he did not she could not. And urely he did not, or all the tales of love vere false! Thus she came to receive him very magnificently arrayed. There was a iush on her cheek, and an uncertain, ex- ‘eetant, fearful look in her eyes, and thus he stood before him, as he fell on his <nee and Kissed her hand. Then he rose, rd declared his thanks and promised his ievotion; but as he spoke, the flush faded nd the light died from her eyes; and vhen at last he drew near to her and of- ered to kiss her cheek, her eyes were dead nd her face pale and cold as she suffered :im to touch it. He was content to touch t but once, and seemed not to know how old it was; and so, after more talk of his father’s pleacure ard his pride he took his leave, promising to come again the next day. She ran to the window when the door was closed on him, and thence watched him mount his horse and ride away slowly, with his head bent and his eyes downcast; yet he was a noble gentleman, stately and handsome, kind and true. The tears came sudderly into her eyes and blurred her sight as she leaned watching from behind the henging curtains of the window. "Though she dashed them angrily away, they came again and ran down-her pale, ccld cheeks, mourning the golden vision that seemed gone without fulfillment. That evening there came a gentleman from the Prince of Glottenberg, carrying most humble excuses from his master, who (so he said) was prevented from waiting on the prircess the next day by a very urgent affair that tcok him from Strelsau, and would keep him absent from the city all day long; and the gentleman delivered to Osra a letter from the prince, full of grace- ful and profound apologies, and pleading an engagement that his honor would not let him break; for nothing short of that, said he, should have kept him from her side; there followed some lover’s phrases, scantily worded and frigid in an assumed passion. But Osra smiled graciously, and sent back a message, readily accepting all that the prince urged in excuse; and she told what had passed to the king, with her head high in the air and a careless haugh- tiness, so that even the king did not rally her, nor yet venture to comfort her, but urged her to spend the day in fiding with the queen and him; for they were setting out for Zenda, where the king | Princess, but she motioned him back, and was to hunt in the forest, and she conld ride some part of the way with them, and return in the evening. And she, wishing that she had sent first to the prince, to bid him not come, agreed to go with her broth- er; it was better far to go, than to wait at home for a lover who would not come. ‘Thus the next morning they rode out, the king and queen with their retinue, the princess attended by one of her guard, named Christian Hantz, who was greatly attached to her, and most jealous in praise and admiration of her. This fellow had taken on himself to be very angry with Prince Ludwig’s coldness, but dared say nothing of it; yet, impelled by his anger, he had set himself to watch the prince very closely, and thus he had, as he con- ceived, discovered something that brought @ twinkle into his eye and a tri- umphant smile to his lips, as he rode be- hind the princess. Some fifteen miles she accompanied him and her brother, and then, turning with Christian, took another road back to the city. Alone she rode, her mind full of sad thoughts, while Christian, behind, still wore his malicious smile. But presently, although she had not command- ed him, he quickened his pace and came up to her side, relying on the favor which she always showed him for excuse. “Well, Christian,” said she, “have you something to say to me?” For answer he pointed to a small house that stood among the trees, some way from the road, and he said: “If I were Ludwig and not Christian, yet I wovld be here where Christian is, and rot there, where Ludwig is,” and he point- ed still at the house. She faced around on him in anger at his daring to speak to her of the prince, but he was a bold fellow and would not be silenced now that he had begun to speak; he knew also that she would bear much from him. So he leaned over to- ward her, sayin “By your bounty, madam, I have money, and he who has money can get knowledge. So that I know that the prince is there. For £0 I gained a servant of his and he told me.” 5 “I do not know why you should spy on the prince,” said Osra, “and I do not care to know where the prince is,” and she touched her horse with the spur and he cantered fast forward, leaving the little house behind. But Christian persisted, Partly in a foolish grudge against any man who should win what was above his reach, partly in an honest anger that she, whom he worshiped, should be treated lightly by another; and he forced her to hear. what he had learned from the gossip of the prince’s groom, telling it to her in hints and half-spoken sentences, yet so Plainly that she could not miss the drift of it. She rode the faster toward Strelsau, at first answering nothing; but at last she turned upon him fiercely, saying that he told a lie, and that she knew it was a lie since she knew where the prince was and what business had taken him away, and she commanded Christian to be silent and to speak neither to her nor to any one else of his false suspicions; and she bade him very harshly to fall back and ride behind her again, which he did, sullen, yet satisfied. For he knew that his arrow had gone home. On she rode, with her cheeks aflame and her heart beating, until she came to Strelsau, and having arrived at the palace, ran to her own bed room and flung herself on the bed. Here for an hour she lay; then, it being about 6 o'clock, she sat up, pushing her dis- ordered hair back from her hot, aching brow. For an agony of humiliation came upon her, and a fury of resentment against the prince, whose coldness seemed now to need no more explanation. Yet she could hardly believe what she had been told of him, for though sine had not loved him, she had accorded to him her full trust. Rising, she paced in pain about the room. She could not rest; and she cried out in longing that her brother were there to aid her and find out the truth for her. But he was away, and she had none to whom she could turn. So she strove to master her anger and endure her suspense till the next day, but they were too’ strong for her, and she crie?l, “I will go. myself; I cannot sleep till I know. But I cannot go alone. Who will go with me?” And she knew of none, for she would not take~ Christian with her, and she shrank from speaking of the matter to any of the gentlemen of the court. And yet she must know. But at last she sprang up from the chair into which she had sunk despondently, exclaim- e is a gentleman and my friend. He will go with me.” And she sent hastily for the bishop cf Modenstein, who was then in Strelsau, bidding him come dressed for riding, and with a sword, and the best horse in his stables. And the bishop came equipped as she bade him and in very great wonder. But when she told him what she wanted and what Christian had made known to her, he grew grave, saying that they must wait and consult the king, when he returned. “I will not weit an cannot wait an hour.’ “Then I wi-ride and bring you word. You must not go,” he urged. “Nay, if I go alone I will go,” sald she. “Yes, I will go, and myself fling his false- ness in his teeth.” Finding her thus resolved, the bishop knew that he could not turn her, so, leav- ing her to prepare herself, he sought Christian Hantz and charged him to bring three horses to the most private gate of the palace, that opened in a littie bye street. Here Christian waited for them with the horses, and they came presently, the bishop wearing a great slouched hat and swaggering like a roystering trooper, while Osra was closely veiled. The bishop hour,’ she cried. “I again imposed secrecy on Christian, and then, they both being mounted, said to Osra, “If you will, then, madam, come,” and thus they rode secretly out of the city, about 7 o’clock in the evening, the gate- wardens opening the gate at sight of the royal arms on Osra’s ring, which she gave to the bishop, in order that he might show In silence they rode a long way, going at a great speed; Osra’s face was set and rigid, for she felt now no shame at herself for going, nor any fear of what she might find, but the injury to ber pride swallowed every other feeling; and at last she said in short, sharp words, to the bishop of Modenstein, having suddenly thrown the veil back from her face: “He shall not live if it prove true.” The bishop shook his head. His profes- sion was peace; yet his blood-also was hot against the man who had put a slight on Princess Osra. “The king must know of it,” he said. “The king! The king is not here tonight,” said Osra; and she pricked her horse and set him at a gallop. The moon, breaking suddenly in brightness frem behind a cloud, showed the bishop her face. Then she put out her hand and caught him by the arm, whispering: ‘Are you my friend?” “Yes, madam,” said he. She knew well that he was her friend. a him for me, then; kill him for me.” cannot kill him,” said the bishop. “I pray God it may prove untrue.” “You are not my friend if you will not kill him,” said Osra; and she turned her face away and rode yet more quickly. At last they came in sight of the little house that stood back from the road; and there was a light in one of the upper windows. The bishop heard a short gasp break from Osra’s lips and she pointed with her whip to the window. Now his own breath came quick and fast, and he prayed to God that he might remember hig sacred character and his vows, and not be led into great and deadly sin, at the bidding of that proud, bitter face; and he clenched He left hand and struck his forehead wita t. Thus they came to the gate of the avenue of trees that led to the house. Here, having dismounted and tied their horses to the gate post, they stood an in- stant, and Osra again veiled her face. “Let me go alone, madam,” he implored. “Give me your sword and I will go alone,” she answered. “Here then is the path,” said the bishop, and he led the way-by the moonlight that broke fitfully here and there through the trees. “He swore that all his Hfe should be mine,”” she whispered, “Yet I knew that he did not love me.” The bishop made her no answer; she look- ed for none and did not know that she spoke the bitterness of her heart in words that he could hear. He bowed his head and prayed again for her and for himself; for he had found his hand gripping the hilt of kis sword. And thus, side by side now, they came to the door of the house, and saw a gentleman standing in front of the door, still, but watchful. And Osra knew that he was the prince’s chamberlain. When the chamterlain saw them he started violently and clapped a hand to his sword; but Osra flung her veil on the ground, and the bishop gripped his arm as with a vise. The chamberlain looked at Osra and at the bishop, and half drew his sword. “This matter 1s too great for you, sir,” said the bishop. “It is a quarrel of princes. Stand aside; and before the chamberlain could make up his mind what to do Osra had passed by him and the bishop had fol- lowed her: Finding themselves in a narrow passage, they made out by the dim light of a lamp a flight of stairs that rose from the farth- est end of it. The bishop tried to pass the walked swiftly to the stairs. In silent speed they mounted, till they had reached the top of the first stage; and facing them, eight or ten steps further up, was a door. By the door stood a groom; this was the man who had treacherously told Christian of his master’s doings; but when he saw suddenly what had come of his disloyal chattering, the fellow went white as a ghost, and came tottering in steaithy si- lence down the stairs, his finger on his Ups. Neither of them spoke to him, nor he to them. They gave no thought to him; his only thought was to escape as soon as he might; so he passed them, and, going on, passed also the chamberlain, who stood dazed at the house door, and so disap- peared, intent on saving the life that he had justly forfeited. Thus the rogue van- ished, and what became of him no one knew or cared. He showed his face no more at Glottenberg or Strelsau. “Hark, there are voices,” whispered Osra to the bishop, raising ker hand above her head, as they two stood motionless. The voles came from the door that faced them—the voice of a man and the voice of a woman. Osra’s glance at her compaaion told him that she knew as well as he whose the man’s voice was. “It Is true, then,” she breathed from be- tween her teeth. “My God, it is true.” The woman's voice spoke now, but the words were not audible. Then came the prince's, “Forever, in life or death, apart or together, forever.” But the woman's answer came no more in words, put in deep, low, passionate sobs, that struck their ears like the distant cry of some brute creature in pain that it cannot un- derstand. Yet Osra’s face was stern and cold, and her lips curled scornfully, when she saw the bishop's look of pity. “Come, let us end it,” said she, and with a firm step she began to mount the stairs that lay between them and the door. Yet once again they paused outside the door, for it seemed as though the princess could not choose but listen to the passion- ate words of love that pierced her ears like knives; yet they were all sad, speaking of renunciation, not happiness. But at last she heard her own name; then with a sud- den start she caught the bishop’s hands, fer she could not listen longer. And she staggered and reeled, as she whispered to him, “The door, the door; open the door.” The bishop, his right hand being across his body and resting on the hilt of his sword, laid his left upon the handle of the door and turned it. Then he flung the door wide open; and at that instant Osra sprang past him, her eyes gleaming like flames from her dead white face. And she stood rigid on the threshold of the room, with the bishop by her side. In the middle of the rcom stood the Prince of Glottenberg, and, strained in close embrace, clinging to him, supported by his arms, with heed buried in his breast, was a girl cf slight and slender figure, graceful though not tall; and her body was still shaken by continued struggling sob: The prince hcld her there as though agains the world, tut raised his head and looked at the intruders with a grave, sad air. There was no shame on his face and hard- ly surprise. Presently he tcok one arm from about the lady, and, raising it, mo- tioned to them to be still. Osra took one step forward, toward where the pair stood; the bishop ciught her sleeve, but she shook Tim off. The lady looked up into the prince’s face; with a sudden startled cry she clutched him closer, and turned a ter- rified face over her shoulder. Then she moaned in great fear, and, reeling, fell against the prince, and would have sunk to the ground if he had not upheld her, and her eyes closed and her lids dropped, as she swooned away. But the princess smiled, and, drawing herself up to her full height, stood watching while Ludwig bore the lady to a couch and laid her there. Then when he came back and faced her, she asked coldly and slowly: shock has killed “her. Indeed, I think she was half dead forsgrief before we came.”” Whe i she?” broke again from Oars’ Ips. # “Come and hear,” and she followed him obediently, yet unwijlingly, to the couch and looked down at the lady. The lady looked at her with wondering eyes and then she smiled faintly, pressing the prince’s hand and whispering: “Yet she is so beautiful,” and she seemed now wonderfully happy, so that they three all watched her, and were envious, although they were to live andshe to di “Now, God, pardon her sin!” said the Princess Osra suddenly, and she fell on her knees beside ‘the couch, crying, “Surely God has pardoned her!” “Sin she had none, save what clings even to the purest in this world,” said the bish- op. ‘For what she Has said to me I know to be true.”” Osra answered nothing, but gazed in ques- tioning at the prince, and he, still holding the lady’s hand, began to speak in a gentle voice: “Do not ask her name, madam. But from the first hour that we knew the mean- ing of love, we have loved one another. And the issue rested In my hands, I would have thrown to the winds all that kept me from her. I remember when first I met her—ah, my sweet, do you remember? And from that day to this in soul she has been mine, and I hers in all my life. But more eculd not be. Madam, you have asked what love is. Here is love. Yet fate is stronger. ‘Thus I came here to woo, and she, left alone, resolved to give herself to God. “How comes she here then?” whispered Osra, and she laid one hand timidly on the ccuch, near the lady, yet not 80 as to touch even her garments. “She came here,” he began, but suddenly, to their amazement, the lady who had seemed dead, with an effort raised herself on her elbow, and spoke in a quick, eager whisper, as if she feared time and strength would fail. “He is a great prince,” she said, “he must be a great king. God means him for great- ness. God forbid that I should be his ruin. Oh, what a sweet dream he painted! But praise be to the blessed saints that kept me strong. Yet at the last I was weak. I could not live without another sight of his face; and so—so I came. Next week I am— I was to take the veil; and I came here to see him once again. God pardon me for it. But I could not help it. Ah, madam, I know you, end I see now your beauty. Have you known love?” “No,” said Osra; and she moved her hand near the lady’s hand! “And when he found me here he prayed me again to do what he asked, and I was half-killed in denying it. But I prevailed, and we were even then parting when you came. Why, why did I come? And for a moment her voice died away in a low, soft moan, Bat she made one more effort; clasping Osra’s hand in her delicate fingers, she whispered, “I am going. Be his wife.” “No, no, no,” whispered Osra, her face now close to the lady’s. “You must live— you must live and be happy.” And then she kissed the lady’s lips. The lady put out her arms and clasped them round Osra’s neck; and again she whispered softly in Osra’s ear. Neither Ludwig nor the bishop heard what she said, but they heard only what Osra sobbed. ‘Presently the lady’s arms relaxed a little in their hold, and, Osra, having kissed her again, rose and signed to Ludwig to come nearer, while she, turning, gave her nand to the bishop, and he led her from the room, and, finding an- other room near, took her in there, where she sat, silent and pale. ‘Thus half an hour passed; then the bishop path, and has taken her straight to His rest.” Osra heard him, half in a trance, and as {if she dd not hear; she did not know SHE MOVED HER HAND N EAR TO THE LADY'S HAND. “Who is this woman, sir? Or is she one of those that have no names?” The prince sprang forward, a_ sudden anger in his eyes; he raised his hand as if he would have pressed it across her scornful mouth, and kept back her bitter words. But she did not flinch; and, point- ing at him with ker finger, she cried to the bishop in a ringing voice: “Kill him, my lord, kill him.” And the sword of the bishop of Moden- stein was half way out of the scabbard. “I would to God, my lord,” said the prince, in low, sad tones, “that God would suffer you to kill me and me to take death at your hands. But neither for you nor for me fs the blow lawful. Let me speak to the princes: The bishop still grasped his sword; for Osra’s face and hand still commanded him. But <t the instant of his hesitation, while the temptation was hot in him, there came from the covch where the lady lay a iow moan of great pain. She flung her arms cut and turned, groaning, again on her back, and her head lay limply over the side cf the couch. The bishop's eyes met Lud- wig’s; ard with a “God forgive me!” he let the sword slip back, and, springing across the room, fell on his knees beside the couch. He broke the gold chain round his neck and grasped the crucifix which it carried in one hand, while with the other he raised the lady’s head, praying her to open her eyes, before whose closed lids he held the sacred image; and he, who had come £0 near to great sin, now prayed soft- ly but fervently for her life and God's pity on her; for the frailty her slight form showed could not withstand the shock of this trial! “Who {s she?” asked the princess. But Ludwig’s eyes had wandered back to the couch, and he answered only: “My God, it will kill her.” “TI care not,” said Osra. But then came another low moan. “I care not,” said the princess again. ‘Ah, she is in great suffer- ingf And her eyes followed the prince's. There was silence, save for the lady's low moans and the whispered prayers of the bishop of Modenstein. But the lady open- ed her eyes, and in an instant, answering the summons, the prince was by her side, kneeling and holding her hand very tender- ly; and he met a glance from the bishop across her prostrate body. The prince bowed his head and one sob burst from him. “Leave me alone with her for a little, sir,” said the bishop, and the prince, obey- ing, rose and withdrew into the bay of the window, while Osra stood alone near the door by which she had entered. A few minutes passed, then Osra saw the prince return to where the lady was and kneel again beside her; and she saw that the bishop was preparing to perform his most sacred and sublime office; the lady's eyes dwelt on him now in peace and rest- fulness, and held Prince Ludwig's hand in her small hand. But Osra would rot kneel; she stood upright, still and cold, as though she neither saw nor heard anything of what passed; she would not pity nor for- give the woman, even if, as they seemed to think, she lay dying. But she spoke once, asking in a harsh voice: “Is there no physician in the house or near?” “None, madam,” said the prince. The bishop began the office, and Osra stood, dimly hearing the words of comfort, peace and hope, dimly seeing the smile an the lady’s face; for gradually her eyes clouded with tears.Now her ears seemed to hear nothing save the sad and piteous sobs that had shaken the girl as she hung about Ludwig's neck. But she strove to drive away her softer thoughts, fanning her fury when it burned low and telling herself again of the insult that she had suffered. Thus she rested till the bishop had per- formed the office. But when he had finish- ed it, he rose from his knees and came to where Osra was. “It was your duty,” she said. none of mini “She will not live an hour,” said he. “For she had an affection of the heart and this “But it is whither he went ror what he did, nor any- thing that passed, until, as it seemed, after a long while, she looked up and saw Prince Lrdwig standing before her. He was com- posed and calm; but it seemed as if half the :3 face. Osra rose arm of the cheir on which she had sat, and, when she had seen his face, she suddenly herself on the floor at his feet, ery- ‘Forgive me! Forgive me: ‘he guilt is mine,” said he; “for I did not trus by stealth what your nobility suffered openly. The guilt is min And he offered to raise her, but she rose unaided, asking, with choking yo'c said the prince, and, Osra, aring it, covered her face with her hands and blindly groped her way back to the chair, where she sat, panting and exhausted. “To her I have said fareweil, and now, madam, to you. Yet do not think that I am 2 man without eyes for your beauty, or a heart to know your worth. I seemed to you a fool and a churl. I grieved most bit- terly, and I wronged you bitter! My ex- cuse for all is now known. For, though you are more beautiful than she, yet true love is no wanderer; it gives a beauty that it does not find and weaves a chain novother charms can break. Madam, farewell!” She looked at him, and saw the sad joy in his cyes, an exultation over what had been that what was could not destroy, and she knew that the vision was still with him, though his love was dead. Suddenly he seemed to her a ‘man she also might love, and for whom she also, if need be, might gladly die. Yet not because she loved him, for she was asking still in wonder, “What is this love?” “Madam, farewell,” said he again, and, kneeling before her, he kissed her hand. “I carry the body of my love,” he went on, “back with me to my home, there to mourn for her; and I shall come no more to Strelsau.” Osra bent her eyes on his face as he knelt, and presently she said to him, in a whisper that was low for awe, not shame: “Ycu heard what she bade me do?” “Yes, madam; I know her wish.’’ “And you would @o it?” she asked. “Madam, my struggle was fought before she died. But n-wsyou know that my love was not yours. “That also I knew before, sir,” and a slight bitter smile came on her face. But she grew grave again and sat there, seem- ing to be a. and Prince Ludwig waited on his kni Then she suddenly leant forward and’ 2 “If I loved I wouldewait for you to I Now what Is the log® that I cannot feel.” And then she sat again silent, but at last raised her eyes again to his, saying in a voice that even*fi the stillness of the room he hardly heard. “Now, I do dearty love you, for I have seen your love and know that you can love; and I think that love must breed love, so that she who loves must in God’s time be loved. Yet—’ She paused here and for a moment hid her face with her hand. “Yet I cannot,” she went on. “Is it our Lord Christ who bids us take the lower place? I cannot take it. He does not so reign in my heart. For to my proud heart—ah, my heart so proud!—she would be ever between us; I could not bear it; even though she is dead, I could not bear it. Yet I believe now that with you I might one day find happiness.” The prince though in that hour he could not think of love, was yet very much moved by her tenderness, and felt that what had passed rather drew them to- gether than made any separation between them. And it seemed to him that the dead lady’s blessing was on his suit, so he said: “Madam, I would most faithfully serve you and you would be the nearest and dearest to me of all living women.” She had waited awhile; then she sighed heavily, and looked in his face with an air of wistful longing and she knit her brow as though she were puzzled. But at last, shaking her head, she said: “It is not enough.” e. And with this she rose and took him by the hand, and the two went back together to where the bishop of Modenstein still prayed beside the body of the lady. Osra stood on one side of the body and stretched her hand out to the prince, who the other side. »"” said she. “She must be between And having kissed the dead face once, she left the prince there by the side of his love, and herself went out, and, turn- ing her head, saw that the prince knelt again by the corpse of his love. “He does not think of me,” she said to the bishop. “His thoughts are still with her, madam,” he answered. It was late night now, and they rode swiftly and silently along the road to Strel- sau. And on all the way they spoke to one another only a few words, being both sunk deep in thought. But once Osra spoke, as they were already near to Strelsau. For she turned suddenly to the bishop, saying: “My lord, what is it? Do you know it?” “Yes, madam, I have known it,” answer- ed the bishop. “Yet you are a churchman: “True, madam,” said he, and he smiled sadly. She seemed to consider, fixing her eyes on his; but he turned his aside. “Could you not make me understand?” she asked. “Your lover, when he comes, will do that madam,” said he, and still he kept his eyes turned ‘away; yet presently a faint smile curved her Ups and she said: “It may be you might feel it if you were not a churchman. But I do not. Many men have said they loved me, and I have felt something in my heart—but not this!” “It will come,” said the bishop. “Does it then come to every one?” “To most,” he auswered. “Heigho, will it ever come to me?” she sighed. And so they were at home. And Osra was for « long time very sorrowful for the fate of the lady whom the Prince of Glot- tenberg had Icved, but since she saw Lud- wig no more, and the joy of youth con- quered her gadners, she ceased to mourn, and as she walked along she would wonder more and mcre what it might be, this great love that she did not feel. “For noae will tell me, not even the bishop of Modenstein,” said she. (The end.) — A TRICK IN VIOLINS. A Little Comedy Played by a Musician, a Connoisseur and a Pawnbroker. From the New York World. He was evidently a musician, and car- ried a violin in a black silesia bag. ‘The Bowery pawnbroker, as he saw him enter, said to himself: “Ah, here's a poor devil of a player, forced to pledge the only thing that gives him a livelihood, poor though it “Let me have $2.50 on this, please,” said the man, regretfully, as he carefully drew the violin out of its covering. “I just want enough to tide me over a day or so, until I get a remittance. Unless I knew I could redeem it at once, I would never trust It out of my hands, for it is not only my sole means of existence, but, as you will ob- serve, it is a very valuable instrument. ‘The pawnbroker handed out the mo! and almost regretted that the loan was £0 small. As he was going out, the man turned back and said: “By the way, I wish you would not put this violin aside with a lot of odds and ends. It is too val- uable to take any risk with. Besides, I will surely be back in a day or so. A few days later an elderly man came in and asked to see some opera glasses. As he was looking over the stock his eye lighted on the violin, hanging on the wall. “Let me see that instrument, if you please,” he said. He looked at it critically, and then a delighted expression over- spread his face. “Just what I have been seeking for years!” he exclaimed, making no attempt to conceal his enthusiasm. ‘You see, I am a connoisseur, one of the virtuosi, as the newspapers love to term us old fellows. I need this violin in my collection, and I'll give you $40 for it.” Mine Uncle only shook his head. “Well, I'll make it, $50.” “It isn’t for sale,” replied broker. “Say seventy-five, then.” By this time the pawnbroker was deeply interested. He explained how the violin came into his pos- session. : f you'll drop in again in a day or so I'll probably have seen the owner, and pernare we may be able to negotiate a leal.”” “I hope so,” returned the enthusiast, “As you will have some trouble in the matter, I'll raise my offer to an even hun- dred. I must have that violin.” As soon as he was gone the pawnbroker hurried around to see the musician. The man lived in a poorly furnished room, evi- dently in great poverty. the pawn- “What! Sell my dear violin?’ he ex- claimed, indignantly. No! a thousand times no. I'd rather starve first. “Look here, my man,” said the pawn- broker; “I know just how you feel about it, but after all it's merely a question of sentiment. A cheaper instrument will do you in your business. I'll give you $50 for that violin.” The man hesitated a long while. Tears came into his eyes and his long, pale fingers trembled as he told the story of his struggle with poverty, but he took the money. A week vassed and the wealthy connois- seur had not put in an appearance, Mine Uncle began to grow nervous. He took the violin down from the nail and carried it uptown to show to an extert. i “I can’t give you the exact market value of it,” said the violin sharp, after a hasty glanci “You see I don’t handle this qual- ity of goods, but violins of this kind are worth about $15 a dozen. soe Vouched for the Janitor. Trem the New York Wee Lady—“Where is the agent for these flats?” Man at door—“I can rent the flats, mum.” “Are the rerts reasonable?” “Yes, mum." “What sort of a janitor hav “A very good one, mum.” s he polite and attentive “Yes, mum, . “Honest?” es, mum. “Doesn't he ever steal from baskets of the tenants?” “Never, mum.” “He's a good, Christian man, is he?” “Yes, mum. A_politer, more attentive, honester or more Christian man never lived, mum.” ao ine delighted to hear that. Where is he wt the market no’ “I'm him, mum.” Game in Vermont. From the Boston Herald. Game in general is reported to be un- commonly plentiful in Vermont. The con- ditions for the growth of young birds have been more than usually favorable, and they are said to be large and plump for this season of the year. The game upon which Vermont sportsmen chiefly rely are partridge and woodcock. Reports from all sections of the state indicate that par- tridges are plentiful. The protected deer are multiplying rapidly in the state, and are seen in almost every town, and often- times herding with the farmers’ cattle, and even coming home with the cows at night. These are petted when they will permit it, and many have become quite tame. ———-ees. A Crushing Revenge. From Spare Moments. A man with a painful expression of coun- tenance sat on a goods box. “Are you ill?” some one asked, “No.” “Have you lost anything’ “Never had anything to lose.* “What's the matter, then?” “I'm sittin’ on a wasp.” “Why don’t you get up?” “Well, that wuz my first impulse, but I got to thinkin’ that I was hurtin’ the wasp as badly as he was hurtin’ me, and conclud- ed to sit here awhile. EOE Out for a day’s sport.—Harper’s Bazar. | —S Highest of all in Leavening Power.— Latest U.S. Gov’t Report Royal Baking Powder ABSOLUTELY PURE A MORAVIAN TOWN Many of the Quaint Customs of a Former Time Retained. WITHIN FIVE HOURS RIDE OF THIS CITY Pretzels Are Baked There and Sent Over the Country. BUSINESS AND RELIGIO —_—_+—__— Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. LITITZ, Lancaster County, Pa., October 2, 1895. HERE IS IN THIS | quaint little Pennsyl- vania Dutch town, within five hours’ ride by rail of the nation’s capital, a community of people who are just as unique, just as an- cient and just as for- eign to this country, ; both in language and idiosyncrasies, as were their forefath- ers who preceded them here from the fatherland more than a century ago. The community of which I speak Is that of the Moravian Brethren, a religious sect, who settled this place about the middle of the eighteenth century, and the cause of the exceptional condition remarked upon is that until a comparatively recent date the Moravians would not consent to part with any of their large real estate holdings to outsiders, or to other thari Moravians Like themselves, thus preserving undisturb- ed and uncorrupted by contact with the outer world a lictle clan or clique of their own. Through the perseverance and pressure, however, of the prosperous neighboring farmers, many of whom have since embrac- ed the Moravian faith, a wedge was finally Griven into this smart little community of exclusives, with the result that of the 1,200 souls which the town now contains about one-third of the number is made up from the families of these farmers. Am Ancient Sect. ‘The history of the Moravians may be said to date from.the year 1457, although, as a matter of fact, the United Brethren (Unitas Fratrum), as they are sometimes called, had their actuat origin in the religious move- ments in Bohemia which followed the mar- tyrdom of John Huss by the council of Con- stance. Lititz was christened in 1756 by Count Zinzendorf, and is the name of an ancient town in Bohemia, where, in 1456, the persecuted Moravians found refuge. What practically led, however, to the founding of the unity in Lititz was the vision of the Lord which George Klein, the Luther- an leader, claimed had appeared to him on the night he refused to attend the meeting held by Count Zinzendorf in Warwick. Ac- cording to Klein's version, he received evi- dence in the vision of the Lord’s displeasure at his denunciation of the Moravian mis- In the Park. sloraries, and was so deeply impressed by it that he followed the count to Lancaster and, upon hearing him preach in the court house there, at once became converted to the Mo- ravian faith. ‘The first place of Moravian worship here was built by bim in 1744. A portion of the structure, which was composed of logs, still stands. His subsequent donations in behalf of the unity were made In 1754, and consist- ed of the 600 acres upon which the town proper is laid out, and an additicnal place of worship—a two-story stone building. The unity embraces three provinces—Ger- many, England and America. Each prov- ince has its cwn government by synod and provincial elders’ conferences. The minis- ters are bishops, presbyters and deacons. It has no formal creed, but its doctrine, as found in the catechism, Easter morning Litany and Synodal Results, embraces, among other things, the belief in the total depravity of human nature, the love of God the Father, the doctrine of the Holy Ghost, the second coming of the Lord in glory and the resurrection of the dead into life or unto condemnation. The worship is liturgi- cal, and in many respects identical with that of ‘the Episcopal Church. The litany of both churches is the same, word for word. Feet Washing Ceremony. The feet washing and use of the “lot” in the election of-ministers and in marriages, once prominent features of the sect, have fallen into disuse. The use of the lot was the peculiar privilege or authority, among va- rious others, that the elders had of deciding upon the especial minister who was to look after the spiritual welfare of the brethren, and the exceptional and extraordinary pre- rogative which they arrogated to themselves of selecting from the sisters the helpmate who was to share the wordly comforts and cates of the brother. The custom of plac- ing the brethren on one side of the church and the sisters on the other has also been abolished. The love feasts are, however, still kept up. Toward the end of the service, which lasts about an hour, and consists, for the mest part, in the chanting of various hymns by the choir and congregation, girls just budding into womanhood make thcir appearance, bearing in their arms baskets filled to overflowing with sweet buns an inch thick and about as large round as a saucer. Mugs of coffee are also handed. about. Curious Burial Custom. In the cld portion of the Moravian bury- ing grovnd, whose moss-laden, century- stained tombs date back as far as the year 1755, the now obsolete Moravian custom of burial seems to have been rigidly adhered to. There the departed married brethren and sisters, each sex by itself, le buried in one portion of the cemetery; the unmar- ried brothers and sisters in another; the widows and widowers in two other sep- arate eections, and the children, those ur- der twelve years of age, by themselves, and those ov-r twelve, the girls in one place, the boys in another. Thus the mem- bers of a single family may be found buried in half a dozen different places in the cemetery. There are no tomb- stones proper, but over each grave is placed a flat stone or marble slab en- graved with the name, time of birth, date of death and the age of the person buried. ‘The slabs are numbered ss members die, and for adults are larger in size than those provided for children. In the new or ey tended portion of the cemetery this curious custom has not been followed. In a field near by 100 of General Wash- irgton’s scldiers fe buried. They died of cemp fever, contracted during his occu- pation of the town in 1778 as a hospital for the sick and wounded. John A. Sutter, the pioneer discoverer of the precious metal in California, who for years was a famillar figure on the streets of Washington, lies buried here. As a mark of respect and In token of the high esteem in which he was held here, where he lived from 1871 to the time just pricr to his death in Washington in 1881, his grave has been given the post of honor in a secluded corner of the old burial ground, and the siab over his mound {fs by far the largest and most imposing of all. He expired just after the defeat of the last of the many her- culean efforts he had made to induce Con- gress to pass a bill having for its object the establishment of his claim to the California property; the ignis fatuus which he faith- fully, though hopelessly, pursued to the end, and which, while it impoverished him, brought riches and plenty to others. But such is the irony of fate. In the Moravian religious observances children under the age of thirteen years ve no official designation, but those beyond that age and not over eighteen ai known as “great boys” and “great girls. The unmarried women are styled “single sisters” and formerly dwelt alone in what is known as the “Sisters’ House,” or “The Castle,” which was built In 1758 and is now @ part of Linden Hall Seminary. The un- married brethren also lived together by themselves, as did the “widows” and “widowers,” Five Meals a Day. When any of the brethren reaches his fiftieth year he has arrived at iis “jubi- as the very important event is called, and It is celebrated by the whole unity. As a result celebrations are very frequent, and come thick and fast in this little community, where they are continu- ally feasting also, it being the usual custom to eat five meals a day. These meals are, in their order, the “6 o'clock” and “9 o'clock breakfast,” noon “dinner;” after- noon “‘vespers,” and 6 o’¢lock “‘supper.” Among some of the good and useful things that owe their American introduc- tion to Lititz are hats braided from straw, augers and organs, which were first manu- factured here, and pretzels, which are baked here and shipped to all parts of the country. And the ginger horsecake of our chil days owes its origin, also, it is ver: to the Moravian “Christmas’cakes, are ginger snaps formed and baked in the shape of animals and birds. These cakes are hung on the Christmas tree, and the attractive feature now universally indulged in of surrounding the base of the tree with a miniature landscape and placing toy houses and figures of people and animals thereon and inclosing the whole with a wooden fence was korrowed, no doubt, from the present “putz” of the Moravian chil- dren. This originally represented and still represents in the services of the church the infant Savior in a manger, with the star of Bethlehem shining overhead and the shepherds scattered around in the distance hearkening to the glorious tidings of the angels. Believe in Education. The brethren have always paid special at- tertion to education. Eech province has a theological college and numerous boarding schools and seminaries. So when you meet Moravian, you are not very likely to find him an uneducated man, but,‘instead, gen- erally a person of scholarly attainments. Nor is it to be understood that, because they follow, with such religious care, their quaint, primitive customs, the Moravians are, in the crdinary sense, eccentric or pe- culiar. On the contrary, they are not only broad and liberal in mind, but polite and finished In manners. Before outsiders were admitted, the town was under the government of the church, which managed the business therein. Af- terward individuals were permitted to en- gage in business on their own account, but a tithe or certain percentage of the profits were required to be turned over to the church. If, in the opinion of the elders, there was no room for profitable competi- tion, no two persons were allowed to en- gage in the same business. The many in- stances of large individual wealth in Litita today ere no doubt due to this wise though now obsolete provision. The next principal attraction of the town, after the buildings and grounds of the Unity, is its park. This ts also owned and controlied by the brethren. Through its entire length, about one-third of a mile, runs a stream some twelve feet wide,which is as clear as crystal and cold as ice. In this stream, which is furnished by a large spring at one end of the park, are hun- dreds of brook trout that have become so tame as to allow you to feed them from the hand. The water of this spring is limestone in character. I never saw a spring of so much force. The water boils and bub- bles forth from a ledge of rocks in huge vclumes. There is a emaller spring (slate) near. On either side of the stream through- out the park are lofty, graceful willows, several hundred years old, that form an immense canopy of foliage over the stream ard the walks along its banks, which are provided with comfortable woeden benches, ————— A Story of Mystery. Do you know what a “Story of Mystery” is? It is a continued story of which all but the last chapter is printed, and then guessea are made as to the solution, then the final Installment is printed. : ~ On October seventh a most interesti mystery story, “When the War Was Over, will be started in The Star, and five hundred dollars will be given for the first absolutely correct solution. In case no guess is abso- lutely correct the amount will be divided among those nearest to a correct solution. The guesses will be confined to women read ers, Fuller particulars elsewhere. s meear Cannot take a hint.—Life.

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