The magic ring, Vol. 1 (of 3) 21 – Gillies · Verses Across
Literature · Romance
The magic ring, Vol. 1 (of 3) 21Chapter 20
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Literature · Romance
The magic ring, Vol. 1 (of 3) 21
Chapter 20
GilliesEnglish
How Sir Otto challenged the Knight of Montfaucon.
Many opinions were immediately offered on this story of the old warrior and young lover. Some praised the prudence and reserve of Donatello; others extolled the quick-sightedness of Signora Portia, for having understood the wishes and motives of such a silent lover; while it was agreed on all sides that the persons in the drama were to be looked on as equally fortunate, Signor Dimetri not excepted, since he, like the rest, had obtained at last the object which he had so long wished for.
During this discourse, the kind and hospitable Sir Folko de Montfaucon was looking eagerly round the table, watching whether his guests were well supplied with wine and satisfied with their entertainment. It now seemed to him as if Sir Otto von Trautwangen sat lost in thoughts, which, from the expression of his features, could not be either cheerful or agreeable. Wishing to rouse him from this trance, Sir Folko observed, “My noble guest from Germany has heard all the remarks which have been made on the Count’s narrative, but has not himself uttered one word. May it please you, sir, to say which of these characters seems to you the most praiseworthy and enviable? Whether do you like best the young lady or the knight?”
With his eyes darkly gleaming, and in a deep severe tone, which contrasted strangely with the mirthful levity of the party, Sir Otto replied, “I am indeed unable to perceive how the most ingenious listener could find aught to approve in the character or conduct of such a knight or lady. If you had inquired of me which of the two was the more base, abominable, devilish, and depraved, I might indeed have more readily provided myself with an answer, although even then the choice would have been difficult. Fy on it! That renowned warrior had raised up a vain coquette to a situation such as she never deserved, had shared with her his house and fortune, placed his honour and happiness in her hands, hoping that the late evening of his life might still be cheered by gleams of confidence, fidelity, and love! Then, lo! the wretched creature forfeits all the reward and praise which she might have obtained for virtue and dignified demeanour, by encouraging a libertine paramour! Shame, shame! That idle and despicable young fellow, who, for himself, would never have won any wreath of fame, had succeeded in gaining the friendly notice and society of a renowned hero, at which any generous and honest heart would have been proud and rejoiced; and this friendship he only uses for his own base purposes, in order to lay his snares with more effect. Then he hires, forsooth, bravoes and assassins; wherefore should he not as well have tried poison? At last the brave old man performs that exploit in earnest, of which he had made a base and cowardly pretence; uses, perhaps for the last time, his already honoured and victorious sword in the service of that deceitful poltron, who, instead of sinking into the earth with shame----but forgive me, noble sir, I have not temper nor patience to speak farther, and have already dwelt too long on a subject so hateful!”
Every one in the banquet-hall was now silent, and on every cheek glowed a deep blush of self-reproach, from which even the count Alessandro de Vinciguerra was not exempted. He said, however,--“This noble stranger has judged the characters of my story rather too severely. In the light in which he has placed them, they may indeed deserve all the censure which he has so freely bestowed; but in our glowing climate beyond the Alps, the inhabitants, both men and women, are, by nature, differently framed and disposed from the quiet people of his cold native land; and, methinks, the same moderation and virtue cannot be demanded of us.” “This were to affirm then,” said Sir Otto, “that right and wrong depended on the nearness or distance of the sun; but I well know, that the inhabitants beyond the Alps would as unwillingly incur the risk of eternal malediction as those of any other country; and that the road which your story instructs us to travel leads but to the realms of the devil there cannot be any doubt.”
The simple and child-like energy, the tranquil consciousness of right, which were visible on Sir Otto’s countenance when he spoke these words, reminded one of the angels’ heads carved in marble by the old devout artists of Germany or Italy. An involuntary emotion of awe, an influence, breathed as it were from the regions of eternal life, was felt through all the party there assembled; so that even the proud and gay Count de Vinciguerra could not lift his eyes from the ground. Don Hernandez meanwhile had risen from his chair, and gone round, unperceived, behind Sir Otto. He touched him on the shoulder, and, looking back, the youth saw the kindly countenance and dark eyes of the Castilian gleaming on him with an expression of triumph and approbation.
After a long silence, the Chevalier de Montfaucon also rose, and addressed himself to the German youth: “Sir Knight,” said he, “you have indeed made us all heartily ashamed, and therefore merit our gratitude and praise; for the very tones of your voice sounded on our ears like the silvery music of a chapel-bell, warning us to self-reproval, to humility, and devotion. Accept, therefore, my sincerest thanks, and believe me, that I rejoice in possessing, even for a short space, such a jewel and mirror of knighthood within my castle.” Thereupon he made to Sir Otto a low and solemn obeisance. All the knights and other guests rose at the same time, and followed his example.
Sir Otto was confused, and blushed deeply. “Noble sirs,” said he, “I believe that you pay this homage to Heaven only, to whose mandates I have chanced to direct your attention. Were it otherwise, a humble and inexperienced youth, such as I am, would indeed ill deserve such honour.”
“Valiant stranger,” answered the Knight of Montfaucon, “we are unwilling to allow that you should speak of yourself so unjustly. May we beg to know your name, and, if it so please you, to hear the story of your past life?”
“Should I ever have a story worth relating,” answered Sir Otto, “and what the story may be, will depend on your renowned and victorious arm, Sir Knight of Montfaucon. Can you still remember the young squire on the banks of the Danube, who was present during that eventful evening, when you so gloriously overcame the powerful Count Archimbald of Waldeck? I wear now the golden spurs; nor have the three strokes of a knightly sword on my shoulders, nor a moonlight watch, been forgotten.”
“’Tis well, Sir Knight,” answered the Chevalier; “and you are now perchance in quest of Gabrielle’s ring?” With a courteous bow, Sir Otto replied in the affirmative. “I am then at your command,” answered Sir Folko; and, turning to the company, he added, “This brave young knight has indeed not related any adventure for your entertainment; but, to compensate for his silence, you may be eye-witnesses of one to-morrow, if you will do me the honour to accompany me to another of my castles in Normandy, where he will engage with me in the lists, and whither I shall invite also the beautiful Gabrielle de Portamour to behold our encounter.” Thereafter he explained to them how he had before now met with Sir Otto near the fortress of Trautwangen, and contended there with the Count Archimbald von Waldeck for the ring. Also, how the castle to which he would invite the Lady Gabrielle was the principal mansion on those territories of which the ring gave the exclusive right of possession; so that she would doubtless not fail to honour them with her company. All the guests now present accepted the invitation; and Sir Otto, with downcast eyes, thanked them for their great courtesy, in as much as they would condescend to behold how a youth, hitherto so humble and unpractised in arms, was to be admitted to the honour of a combat with the renowned Sir Folko de Montfaucon. Every heart was prepossessed in his favour; and even the Count Alessandro de Vinciguerra embraced him cordially, saying, “Truly, since the fates were resolved, that, for the chastisement of my sinful levity, I should be visited by a severe moralist and stern preacher, there could not have been found one in all the world to whom I should have listened so willingly as to him who is now among us.”
