The Two Captains. Friedrich Heinrich Karl de La Motte-Fouqué

words to it:

                        “There is a sweet life linked with mine,

                            But I cannot tell its name;

                         Oh, would it but to me consign

                         The secret of that life divine,

                         That so my lips in whispers sweet

                         And gentle songs might e’en repeat

                            All that my heart would fain proclaim!”

      He suddenly paused, and blushed deeply, fearing he had been too bold. The lady blushed also, touched her guitar-strings with a half-abstracted air, and at last sang as if dreamily:

                        “By the spring where moonlight’s gleams

                            O’er the sparkling waters pass,

                         Who is sitting by the youth,

                            Singing on the soft green grass?

                         Shall the maiden tell her name,

                            When though all unknown it be,

                         Her heart is glowing with her shame,

                            And her cheeks burn anxiously,

                         First, let the youthful knight be named.

                           ‘Tis he that on that glorious day

                            Fought in Castilla’s proud array;

                           ‘Tis he the youth of sixteen years,

                         At Pavia, who his fortunes tried,

                         The Frenchman’s fear, the Spaniard’s pride.

                            Heimbert is the hero’s name,

                            Victorious in many a fight!

                            And beside the valiant knight,

                            Sitting in the soft green grass,

                         Though her name her lips shall pass,

                            Dona Clara feels no shame ”

      “Oh!” said Heimbert, blushing from another cause than before, “oh, Dona Clara, that affair at Pavia was nothing but a merry and victorious tournament, and even if occasionally since then I have been engaged in a tougher contest, how have I ever merited as a reward the overwhelming bliss I am now enjoying! Now I know what your name is, and I may in future address you by it, my angelic Dona Clara, my blessed and beautiful Dona Clara! But tell me now, who has given you such a favorable report of my achievements, that I may ever regard him with grateful affection?”

      “Does the noble Heimbert of Waldhausen suppose,” rejoined Clara, “that the noble houses of Spain had none of their sons where he stood in the battle? You must have surely seen them fighting by your side, and must I not have heard of your glories through the lips of my own people?”

      The silvery tones of a little bell sounded just then from a neighboring palace, and Clara whispered, “It is time to part. Adieu, my hero!” And she smiled on the youth through her gushing tears, and bent toward him, and he almost fancied he felt a sweet kiss breathed from her lips. When he fully recovered himself Clara had disappeared, the morning clouds were beginning to wear the rosy hue of dawn, and Heimbert, with a heaven of love’s proud happiness in his heart, returned to his watchful friend at the garden gate.

      CHAPTER IV

      “Halt!” exclaimed Fadrique, as Heimbert appeared from the garden, holding his drawn sword toward him ready for attack. “Stop, you are mistaken, my good comrade,” said the German, smiling, “it is I whom you see before you.” “Do not imagine, Knight Heimbert of Waldhausen,” said Fadrique, “that I mistake you. But my promise is discharged, my hour of guard has been honorably kept, and now I beg you without further delay to prepare yourself, and fight for your life until heart’s blood has ceased to flow through these veins.” “Good heavens!” sighed Heimbert, “I have often heard that in these southern lands there are witches, who deprive people of their senses by magic arts and incantations. But I have never experienced anything of the sort until to-day. Compose yourself, my dear good comrade, and go with me back to the shore.” Fadrique laughed fiercely, and answered, “Set aside your silly delusion, and if you must have everything explained to you, word by word, in order to understand it, know then that the lady whom you came to meet in the shrubbery of this my garden is Dona Clara Mendez, my only sister. Quick, therefore, and without further preamble, draw!” “God forbid!” exclaimed the German, not touching his weapon. “You shall be my brother-in-law, Fadrique, and not my murderer, and still less will I be yours.” Fadrique only shook his head indignantly, and advanced toward his comrade with measured steps for an encounter. Heimbert, however, still remained immovable, and said, “No, Fadrique, I cannot now or ever do you harm. For besides the love I bear your sister, it must certainly have been you who has spoken to her so honorably of my military expeditions in Italy.” “When I did so,” replied Fadrique in a fury, “I was a fool. But, dallying coward, out with your sword, or—”