The Dove in the Eagle's Nest [56]
disapprove; but, after a short discussion, Ebbo flung away from him, and went towards a shed where was kept a wolf-cub, recently presented to the young Barons by old Ulrich's son. The whelp was so young as to be quite harmless, but it was far from amiable; Friedel never willingly approached it, and the snarling and whining replies to all advances had begun to weary and irritate Ebbo. He dragged it out by its chain, and, tethering it to a post, made it a mark for his snowballs, which, kneaded hard, and delivered with hearty good-will by his sturdy arms, made the poor little beast yelp with pain and terror, till the more tender-hearted Friedel threw himself on his brother to withhold him, while Matz stood by laughing and applauding the Baron. Seeing Ebbo shake Friedel off with unusual petulance, and pitying the tormented animal, Christina flung a cloak round her head and hastened down stairs, entering the court just as the terrified whelp had made a snap at the boy, which was returned by angry, vindictive pelting, not merely with snow, but with stones. Friedel sprang to her crying, and her call to Ebbo made him turn, though with fury in his face, shouting, "He would bite me! the evil beast!"
"Come with me, Ebbo," she said.
"He shall suffer for it, the spiteful, ungrateful brute! Let me alone, mother!" cried Ebbo, stamping on the snow, but still from habit yielding to her hand on his shoulder.
"What now?" demanded the old Baroness, appearing on the scene. "Who is thwarting the Baron?"
"She; she will not let me deal with yonder savage whelp," cried the boy.
"She! Take thy way, child," said the old lady. "Visit him well for his malice. None shall withstand thee here. At thy peril!" she added, turning on Christina. "What, art not content to have brought base mechanical blood into a noble house? Wouldst make slaves and cowards of its sons?"
"I would teach them true courage, not cruelty," she tried to say.
"What should such as thou know of courage? Look here, girl: another word to daunt the spirit of my grandsons, and I'll have thee scourged down the mountain-side! On! At him, Ebbo! That's my gallant young knight! Out of the way, girl, with thy whining looks! What, Friedel, be a man, and aid thy brother! Has she made thee a puling woman already?" And Kunigunde laid an ungentle grasp upon Friedmund, who was clinging to his mother, hiding his face in her gown. He struggled against the clutch, and would not look up or be detached.
"Fie, poor little coward!" taunted the old lady; "never heed him, Ebbo, my brave Baron!"
Cut to the heart, Christina took refuge in her room, and gathered her Friedel to her bosom, as he sobbed out, "Oh, mother, the poor little wolf! Oh, mother, are you weeping too? The grandmother should not so speak to the sweetest, dearest motherling," he added, throwing his arms round her neck.
"Alas, Friedel, that Ebbo should learn that it is brave to hurt the weak!"
"It is not like Walther of Vogelwiede," said Friedel, whose mind had been much impressed by the Minnesinger's bequest to the birds.
"Nor like any true Christian knight. Alas, my poor boys, must you be taught foul cruelty and I too weak and cowardly to save you?"
"That never will be," said Friedel, lifting his head from her shoulder. "Hark! what a howl was that!"
"Listen not, dear child; it does but pain thee."
"But Ebbo is not shouting. Oh, mother, he is vexed--he is hurt!" cried Friedel, springing from her lap; but, ere either could reach the window, Ebbo had vanished from the scene. They only saw the young wolf stretched dead on the snow, and the same moment in burst Ebbo, and flung himself on the floor in a passion of weeping. Stimulated by the applause of his grandmother and of Matz, he had furiously pelted the poor animal with all missiles that came to hand, till a blow, either from him or Matz, had produced such a howl and struggle of agony, and then such terrible stillness, as had gone to the young Baron's very heart, a heart as soft as that of his father had been by nature.
"Come with me, Ebbo," she said.
"He shall suffer for it, the spiteful, ungrateful brute! Let me alone, mother!" cried Ebbo, stamping on the snow, but still from habit yielding to her hand on his shoulder.
"What now?" demanded the old Baroness, appearing on the scene. "Who is thwarting the Baron?"
"She; she will not let me deal with yonder savage whelp," cried the boy.
"She! Take thy way, child," said the old lady. "Visit him well for his malice. None shall withstand thee here. At thy peril!" she added, turning on Christina. "What, art not content to have brought base mechanical blood into a noble house? Wouldst make slaves and cowards of its sons?"
"I would teach them true courage, not cruelty," she tried to say.
"What should such as thou know of courage? Look here, girl: another word to daunt the spirit of my grandsons, and I'll have thee scourged down the mountain-side! On! At him, Ebbo! That's my gallant young knight! Out of the way, girl, with thy whining looks! What, Friedel, be a man, and aid thy brother! Has she made thee a puling woman already?" And Kunigunde laid an ungentle grasp upon Friedmund, who was clinging to his mother, hiding his face in her gown. He struggled against the clutch, and would not look up or be detached.
"Fie, poor little coward!" taunted the old lady; "never heed him, Ebbo, my brave Baron!"
Cut to the heart, Christina took refuge in her room, and gathered her Friedel to her bosom, as he sobbed out, "Oh, mother, the poor little wolf! Oh, mother, are you weeping too? The grandmother should not so speak to the sweetest, dearest motherling," he added, throwing his arms round her neck.
"Alas, Friedel, that Ebbo should learn that it is brave to hurt the weak!"
"It is not like Walther of Vogelwiede," said Friedel, whose mind had been much impressed by the Minnesinger's bequest to the birds.
"Nor like any true Christian knight. Alas, my poor boys, must you be taught foul cruelty and I too weak and cowardly to save you?"
"That never will be," said Friedel, lifting his head from her shoulder. "Hark! what a howl was that!"
"Listen not, dear child; it does but pain thee."
"But Ebbo is not shouting. Oh, mother, he is vexed--he is hurt!" cried Friedel, springing from her lap; but, ere either could reach the window, Ebbo had vanished from the scene. They only saw the young wolf stretched dead on the snow, and the same moment in burst Ebbo, and flung himself on the floor in a passion of weeping. Stimulated by the applause of his grandmother and of Matz, he had furiously pelted the poor animal with all missiles that came to hand, till a blow, either from him or Matz, had produced such a howl and struggle of agony, and then such terrible stillness, as had gone to the young Baron's very heart, a heart as soft as that of his father had been by nature.