And now for a painful confession. Among some pieces at the end of the volume of Orientales is an awful ballad, “La Légende de la Nonne," which would have gladdened the soul of Monk Lewis, and-better than his own "Cloud - kings and Waterkings"-better than Southey's " Old Women of Berkeley" and "Painters of Florence"-better than Sir Walter's contributions to that collection -would, with its grim German conception, clothing itself in the fierce colours of Spanish passion and the dark light of Spanish scenery, its reckless rapidity of verse contrasting with the solemn horror of the tale, its bizarre refrain ringing ever and anon amid the recounted crime and the recorded punishment,-would, we say, have made the fortune of the Tales of Wonder. We confess, with confusion of face, that it has baffled our powers of "oversetting." Our limits forbid us to extract it, with its four-andtwenty stanzas of eight lines a-piece ; but we freely offer a couple of uncut copies of REGINA to whoever shall worthily execute its traduction. But let him who attempts it beware what he is about. It well-nigh drove us to an act of the last desperation. For the life of us, we could not succeed in rendering, with safe gravity, the singular refrain,-which, by the bye, while perfectly in character with the land of the toreador, is decidedly of the northern ballad, by its want of connexion with the current of the story, 'Pour un baiser, pour un sourire d'elle, Pour un cheveu, Infant don Ruy, je donnerais l'Espagne Et le Pérou !' Le vent qui vient à travers la montagne Je ne sais pas si j'aimais cette dame, Que pour avoir un regard de son âme, J'aurais gaiment passé dix ans au bagne Sous le verrou. Le vent qui vient à travers la montagne Un jour d'été que tout était lumière, Elle s'en vint jouer dans la rivière Je vis le pied de sa jeune compagne Et son genou. Le vent qui vient à travers la montague Me rendra fou. Quand je voyais cette enfant, moi, le pâtre De ce canton, Je croyais voir la belle Cléopâtre Ménait César, empereur d'Allemagne, Le vent qui vient à travers la montagne Me rendra fou. Car je suis las; Avec ce comte elle s'est donc enfuie, Par le chemin qui va vers la Cerdagne, Le vent qui vient à travers la montagne Je la voyais passer de ma demeure, Mais à présent je m'ennuie à toute heure, Rêveur oisif, l'âme dans la campagne, Le vent qui vient à travers la montagne 'Twas Gastibelza, ranger bold, And thus it was he sung, "O who doth here Sabina know, Ye villagers among? Dance on the while! On Mount Faloù Die the last streaks of day ; The wind that 'thwart the mountain comes Will witch my wits away. Doth any my señora know, Who shriek'd at night in the great tow'r, The wind that 'thwart the mountain comes Will witch my wits away. Dance on! the goods the hour bestows O she was fair; her bright black eye The wind that 'thwart the mountain comes The queen beside her had been plain, 'Neath bodice black, and chaplet old The wind that'thwart the mountain comes The king unto his nephew said, 'But for a kiss, a smile of her, But for a lock of hair, Trust me, Don Ruy, I'd give broad Spain, I'd give Peru's rich sway!'- I know not if I loved this dame, That for one look from out her soul 'Neath bolt and chain to work the oar, The wind that 'thwart the mountain comes One summer's day, one sunny day, That bright and beauteous dame! The wind that 'thwart the mountain comes When, simple shepherd, I beheld The wind that 'thwart the mountain comes Dance, villagers; the night draws down! Sabina,-wo the hour! Did sell her love, did sell her all, Sold heart and beauty's dow'r, For Count Saldaña's ring of gold, All for a trinket gay.— The wind that 'thwart the mountain comes Now let me lean on this old seat, I tell you with this Count she fled, They went by the Cerdaña road, The wind that 'thwart the mountain comes I saw her pass, my dwelling by, O the wind that 'thwart the mountain THE CHAMBER OF THE BELL. CHAPTER I. THE events which we are about to relate occurred in a small and obscure German town, which, for our own convenience, we will designate Nienburg. Who, in the present day, is unacquainted with the general outline of the petty towns of the "Fatherland ?" Suffice it, that Nienburg formed no exception to the rule, but shewed its narrow streets of tall, many-gabled, and picturesque-looking houses, its dark, mysterious churches, its long lines of convent walls, its close and irregular-shaped places, and its motley population of peasants, monks, soldiers, béguines, and beggars. As regarded its geography, it was seated at the base of one of two conical hills; that immediately in its rear being cultivated to nearly two-thirds of its height, and planted on the southern side with vines, while the more lofty and more distant eminence was crowned by the mouldering remains of what had evidently once been a formidable stronghold. Upon this rock no trace of vegetation could be detected; all was arid, bleak, and desolate; the crude and abrupt outline of the height being broken in many places by the remains of cyclopean masonry, indicating the extent and direction of the outworks, which, on the more accessible sides of the acclivity, descended almost to the valley. Portions of now mouldering towers, blending their hoary tints with that of the stones on which they had been seated for centuries, afforded shelter to the foul birds of carnage and darkness, whose shrill screams and hoarse hootings swelled and quivered upon the night-wind, like the wailings of the dead over the ruins of their former pride. The valley or gorge between the two hills was scarcely more cheerful than the castled height which frowned above it, for it was occupied throughout its whole extent with graves; save that, immediately under the shadow of the eminence last described, stood a low and small erection of stone, parted by this city of the dead from the living town of Nienburg; which, cut off by an angle of its own vine-clad eminence from all view of this dreary necropolis, was further enlivened by a chcerful stream, which swept swiftly and smilingly at its foot, hurrying to cast its pure and sparkling waters into the bosom of the Rhine. A few light craft, moored along the shore, heaved lazily upon the current, and the nets of the fishers spread upon the bank sufficiently denoted the uses of the little fleet. Beyond the town, in the opposite direction to the ruins, spread one of those fine old forests to which Germany is indebted for so much of her prosperity and so many of her superstitions; and where the warm sun and the flying clouds produced the most fantastic effects, as they grap. pled for power above the stern old trees, spread over the rarely occurring glades, or succeeded each other upon the dancing leaves. The blast which had howled its defiance over the neighbouring ruins, where it beat freely against the sharp rock and the rigid masonry, took another and a wilder tone as it penetrated into the mystic depths of the dark wood, or forced its way through the living network of the swinging branches. None ventured there at nightfall: the goatherd drove home his flock, the woodsman laid by his axe, and the benighted fowler hastened to escape into the open country, without venturing to cast one glance behind upon the scenes of his day's sport. Such was the position of the little town, to some of whose inhabitants we are about to introduce our readers. It was evening, and a bright moon was paving the river with flakes of silver, which looked like the armour of some watergiant, beneath which his huge frame was quivering with desire to visit the tranquil earth that slept so peacefully beside him. The breeze was sighing through the vines, and heaving aside their large glossy leaves and delicate tendrils; the laughter of children and the voices of women might be heard at intervals; and here and there, upon the bosom of the stream, rested a bright red glare which was reflected upon the trembling current. The fishermen were busy, plying their trade by torchlight. Upon the very verge of the town stood a house, separated from the street by a high wall inclosing a spacious garden, laid out with scrupulous care and almost painful formality. Flowers of every scent, and of every colour, blossomed in minute patches of the most grotesque and varied shapes; trim-cut hedges of yew, with their outline broken at intervals by strange uncouth figures, elipped into deformity from the same material; monstrous statues of discoloured stone, and of proportions which defied criticism, mounted upon square pedestals; basins, fringed with water-plants and peopled with gold fish; and paths, smoothly and brightly gravelled, formed the matériel of this pleasance; in the midst of which stood the house, with its tall gable turned towards the street, the heavy beams of its roof carved at the extremities into whimsical finials, and its leaden gyrgoyles grinning like an assemblage of demon heads, beneath the shadow of the slender cupola which supported the vane. Nor did the appearance of the mansion within belie its outward promise. It was spacious and cleanly. No accessory to comfort was wanting. The high-backed chairs, whose carving was terminated by a rude representation of the family crest, were well cushioned. There was a soft carpet on the centre of the floor; family portraits were pannelled into the walls; and the doors and windows were screened by heavy draperies of fringed damask. Every thing bore the stamp of extreme care and scrupulous management. There were birds and flowers upon a table, which stood within the deep bay of an immense window looking upon the garden from the apartment where our story is to begin; and upon a second, drawn near to the porcelain stove, which occupied an angle of the room, were placed a lamp, some female working materials, such as Berlin wool, coloured silks, and a half-knitted stocking; a few books, and some fishing apparatus. On one side of the stove sat a female, of about five-and-thirty years old. She was comely but not handsome; her eyes were fine and clear, but the dark brows by which they were overhung almost met in the centre, forming that waving line beneath the forehead so prized by the modern Greeks, but which gives such a harshness to the countenance. There was, moreover, a terseness and decision about the lines of her mouth which accorded well with those dark brows; and her head was seated upon her shoulders with a majesty which would have become an empress. Her complexion was perfectly fair, but its freshness was gone; her teeth were beautiful, and her hands and arms faultless. Her face wore a pained expression, as though the sorrows which had passed over her had never been forgotten, and as though she did not yet believe them to be over. At the moment in which we are de scribing her, she was buried in deep and evidently painful thought: even her knitting, that everlasting resource of a German woman, was thrown aside, and she sat with her arms crossed upon her bosom, and her head bowed down, as though her reflections were too heavy a burden for her to support upright. Her brows were knit together, and her thin lips compressed, while she beat upon the floor with her foot rapidly and feverishly, as if in this monotonous movement she found vent for the feeling by which she was oppressed. She was still in this attitude when the door was suddenly opened, and she hastily roused herself, and resumed the abandoned knitting. The intruder was a fine stronglybuilt man, some five years her junior, and it was casy to decide at a glance that they were nearly related; there were the same thick continuous brows, the same stern expression about the mouth, the same high forehead surmounted by masses of rich brown hair, the same majestic carriage of the head; but all these features which, in the case of the female, produced an effect almost repelling, made of the man a noble specimen of masculine beauty. Nevertheless, it was a fearful beauty, and wore the brightness of the lurid vapour which veils the summer thunder. There was a light in his large brown eyes which, even in his calmest moments, betrayed the fiery "I know what you are about to say, Stephanie," interposed the young man, impatiently. "During our mother's life, I was compelled to a rigid punctuality; now, I am my own master, and have to answer to no one for an hour's delay." "Could I only be assured that you were wandering there alone murmured the lady. "Hark you, gräfine," said Elric, turning his flashing eyes full upon her, as he twisted tightly about his fingers a trout-line which he had caught up from the table; "I have already warned you that I will hear no more upon this subject. Do I ever thwart your wishes? Do I ever control your amusements? Do I ever dictate to your affections? You may marry, if you will, the veriest boor in Nienburg: your destiny will be of your own seeking, and you are old enough to exert your free-will; but I will be equally unfettered. I respected the prejudices of my mother, because she was my mother; but I will brook no more womanly dictation. Be warned in time." "The daughter of a fisherman!" exclaimed the lady, scornfully, as she raised her eyes to his. The young count sprang a pace towards her, with a red spot burning upon either cheek; but he instantly checked himself, and said, with a laugh of bitter scorn, "Even so, my lady countess, the daughter of a fisherman; and you have yet to learn that the subtle essence which men call mind can be diffused through the being of a fisher's daughter as freely and fully as through that of a landgrave's heiress; that the sublime "Supper waits, Herr Graf," said his sister, rising haughtily from her seat, and leading the way to an inner apartment. The meal passed in silence. The presence of the servants prevented any allusion to the subject which occupied the minds of both, and neither was willing to make an effort to banish it. Under such circumstances it is, therefore, scarcely surprising that on their return to the drawingroom the brother and sister at once recurred to the obnoxious theme. It is, however, time that we should explain to the reader the position of the noble orphans. Count Elric Königstein was the last representative of a proud and ancient family, which, originally both powerful and wealthy, had become impoverished by the loyalty and improvidence of its chiefs, and, as a natural consequence, had lost its influence with its riches. Geschenke halten die Freundschaft warm had for generations been the motto of their race; and they had so long been distinguished for an open hand and an ungrudging generosity, that at length they found themselves with nothing more to give. The Thirty Years' War had cost Count Elric the small remains of the family treasure and the life of his father; and he found himself, at the age of sixteen, under the tutelage of his mother, with, for all patrimony, the house at Nienburg, a small estate in the neighbourhood, and the moiety of her jointure, scrupulously divided between himself and his sister at the death of their last parent. The young man, like all the other males of his race, panted for a military life; but the old Countess von Königstein positively negatived his inclination. He was the last hope of the family; and as she looked upon the noble promise of his magnificent person, she had proud dreams of the total restoration of their house by his alliance with some high-born and wealthy heiress. Meanwhile, the high-spirited Elric led what was, for him, a life of slow torture. Denied the education suited to his rank by the utter inability of the countess to meet the expense of one of the universities, he was placed under the care and tuition of a priest attached to the principal church of Nienburg, and soon mastered the very limited stock of erudition which was boasted by the good father, while his hours at home were even more heavy and unprofitable. Dis |