Red Axe by Samuel Rutherford Crockett (books to read for self improvement TXT) 📕

ride with us side by side."
Then going to the curtain she summoned the servitor who had first opened the door for me. He bowed before the girl with infinite respect. She bade him conduct me upon my way. I will not deny that I had hoped for a tenderer leave-taking. But all at once she seemed to have slipped back into the great lady again, and to be desirous of setting me in my own sphere and station ere I went, lest perchance I should presume overmuch upon her favors.
Yet not altogether so. For, relenting a little as I turned to leave her, she stood holding the curtain aside for me to pass, and, as it had been by accident, in dropping it her fingers rested a moment against my cheek. Then the heavy curtain of blue fell into its place, and I found myself following the eminently respectable domestic of Master Gerard down the stairs.
At the outer door, but before he opened it, the man put a sealed packet in my hand.
"From Doctor Gerard von Sturm," he said, bowing respectfully, yet with a certain sense of being a party in a favor conferred.
I thrust the letter into my inner pocket and went out into the street. The sun was still shining, yet somehow I felt that it must be another day, another world. The houses seemed hard and dry, the details of the architecture insufferably mean and insultingly familiar. I longed with all my heart to get away from Thorn into the new world which had opened to me--a world of perfumes and flowers and flower-like scents and Oriental marvels, of low voices, too, and the touching of soft hands upon cheeks.
In all the world of young men there was no greener or more simple Simon than I, Hugo Gottfried, as, playing a tune on the pipe of my own conceit, I marched up the High Street of Thorn to the entrance gate of the Wolfsberg.
The Little Playmate was standing at the door as I approached, sweet as a June rose. When she saw me she went into the sitting-room to show that she had not yet forgiven me. Though I think by this time, as was often the way with Helene, she had forgotten almost what was the original matter of my offending.
But I pretended to be careless and heart-free. And so--God forgive me!--I went whistling up the steps of the Red Tower to my room without so much as looking within the chamber where my Little Playmate had withdrawn herself.
Which thing I suffered grievously for or all was done. And an excellent dispensation of Providence it had been if I had lost my right hand, all for making that little heart sore, or so much as one tear drop from those deep gray eyes.


CHAPTER XIII
CHRISTIAN'S ELSA
It was about this time, and after we had made our quarrel up, that Helene began to call me "Great Brother." After all, there is manifest virtue in a name, and the Little Playmate seemed to find great comfort in thus addressing me.
And after that I had called her "Little Sister" once or twice she was greatly assured and treated me quite differently, having ascertained that between young men and women there is the utmost safety in such a relationship.
And as all ways were alike to me, I was willing enough. For indeed I loved her and none other, and so did all the days of my life. Though I know that my actions and conceits were not always conformable to the true love that was in my heart, neither wholly worthy of my dear maid.
But, then, what would you? Nineteen and the follies of one's youth! The mercy of God rather than any virtue in me kept these from being not only infinitely more numerous, but infinitely worse. Yet I had better confess them, such as they are, in this place. For it was some such nothings as those which follow that first brought Helene and me into one way of thinking, though by paths very devious indeed.
To begin with the earliest. There was a maid who dwelt in the Tower of the Wolfsberg opposite, called the Tower of the Captain of the Guard. And the maid's name was Elsa, or, as she was ordinarily called, "Christian's Elsa." She was a comely maid enough, and greatly taken notice of. And when I went to my window to con over my task for Friar Laurence, there at the opposite window would be--strange that it should always he so--Christian's Elsa. She was a little girl, short and plump, but with merry eyes and so bright a stain upon either cheek that it seemed as if she had been eating raspberry conserve, and had wiped her fingers upon the smiling plumpness there.
At any rate, as sure as ever I betook me to the window, there would be Christian's Elsa, busy with her needles.
And to tell truth I misliked it not greatly. Why, indeed, should I? For there is surely no harm in looking across twenty yards of space at a maid, and as little in the maid looking at you--that is, if neither of you come any nearer. Besides, it is much pleasanter to look at a pretty lass than at a vacant wall and twenty yards of uneven cobble-stones.
Now the girl was harmless enough--a red and white maid, plump as a partridge in the end of harvest. She was forever humming at songs, singing little choruses, and inventing of new melodies, all tunefully and prettily enough. And she would bring her dulcimer to the window and play them over, nodding her head to the instrument as she sang.
It was pleasant to watch her. For sometimes when the music refused to run aright, she would frown at the dulcimer, as if the discord had been entirely its fault and it was old enough to know better. Then sometimes she would look across abstractedly to the Red Tower, trying to recall a strain she had forgotten, with her finger all the while making the most bewitching dimple on her plump cheek. It was most sweet and innocent to see. And withal so entirely unconscious that any one could possibly be observing her.
I confess that I sat often and conned my book by the window, long after I knew my portion by heart, in order to watch her deft fingers upon the dulcimer sticks and the play of her dimples. But on my part also this was in all innocence and wholly thoughtless of guile.
Then would I be taken with a spasm of desire to play upon the recorders or the Bavarian single flute, and would pester my father to let me learn.
Now I never had any more ear for music than a deal board that has knot-holes in it. I had ears indeed. But the clatter of the mill-wheel and the lapper of water on the stones of the shore were ever better music to me than singing or playing upon instruments. Nevertheless, at this time, for some reason or other, I was in a great fret to learn.
And, curiously enough, my desire made the Little Playmate call me "Great Brother" more assiduously than ever. Though again I knew not why.
But Christian's Elsa she could not abide either sight or mention of. Which was passing strange in so sweet and charitable a maid as our Helene. Also the girl at the guard-house was a good daughter, besides being particular of her company, and in that garrison place untouched by any breath of scandal.
But no; Helene would have none of her.
"_Feech_!" she would say, making a little grimace of disgust which she had brought with her from her northern home; "that noisy, mewling cat, purring and stroking her face, in the window, I cannot abide her. I know not what some folks can see in her. There are surely more kinds of blindness than of those that wait about kirk doors with a board hung round their necks, saying, 'Good people, for the love of God, put a copper in this wooden platter.'"
"Why, Little Playmate, what ails thee at the maid? She is a good maid enough, and, I am sure, a pretty one."
So would I say to try her. Whereat the lass, being slender herself, and with a head that sat easily on her shoulders, would walk off like the haughty little Princess she was, and thrust her chin so far forward that even the pretty round of it bespoke a pointed scorn. And the poutlets would come and go on her red lips so quickly that I would come from the window, leaving my book and Christian's Elsa, and a thousand Elsas, just to watch them.
"So, Great Brother," Helene would say, "you think she is pretty, do you? 'Tis interesting, for sure. As for me, I see not anything pretty about her. Now, there is Katrin Texel, she is pretty, if you like. What say you to her?"
And this was because the minx knew well that I never could abide Katrin Texel, a girl all running to seed like a shot stalk of rhubarb, who would end up in the neighborhood of six foot in height, and just that "fine figure of a woman" which I never could abide.
"_Feech_!" I would say, copying her Wendish expression. "I would as soon set my feather bolster on end, paint it black and white, and make love to it as to Katrin Texel."
"You do worse every day of your life," retorted Helene, with pretty spite, tapping the floor with the point of one delicate foot.
"And, pray, what do I that is worse?" I said, knowing full well what.
The Little Playmate was silent a minute, only continuing to tap the flags with a kind of naughtiness that became her.
"Katrin Texel would not look at you, charming as you think yourself," she said, at last.
"Did she tell you so, Little Sister?" said I, drawing a bow at a great venture.
The arrow struck, and I was content.
"Well," she answered, somewhat breathlessly, "what if she did? Surely even your vanity can take nothing out of a girl saying that she cannot abide you."
But I answered nothing to this, only stroked the mustache which was beginning to thrive admirably on my upper lip.
"Of all the--" began Helene, looking at me fixedly. Then she stopped.
"Well," said I, pausing in the caressing of my chin, "what do I worse every day than make love to Katrin Texel?"
Her eyes fairly sparkled fire at me. They were "sweetest eyes" no more, but rarely worth looking into all the same.
"You go ogling and staring at that little she-cat in the window over there, that screeches and becks and pats herself, all for showing off! And you, Hugo Gottfried, like a great oaf, thinking all the time how innocent and sweet and--oh, I have no patience with you!--to neglect and think nothing of--of Katrin Texel, and--and then to go gazing and gaping after a thing like that!"
And I declare there were tears in the Little Playmate's eyes.
"Dear Little Sister, why are you so mindful about Katrin Texel?" said I. "Faith, my lass, wait till she comes again, and I will court her to your heart's content. There--there--I will be a very Valentine's true lover to your Katrin."
For all that she was not greatly cheered, but edged away, still strangely disconsolate when I came near and tried to pet her. Mysterious and hidden are the ways of women! For once, when I would have put my hand about her pretty slender waist, she promptly took me by the wrist, and holding it at arm's-length, she dropped it from her with a disgustful curl of her lip, as if it had