At this the honourable man was astonished. “Thou a murderess!” he exclaimed; “with such a heavenly face, does wickedness dwell in thy heart? Impossible! Mankind are, indeed, capable of all sorts of deceit and evil; but this is a riddle to me.”
“I will solve it for you, if you wish,” replied the disconsolate maiden.
“Do so,” answered Rübezahl.
“From my early childhood I had a playfellow, the son of a virtuous widow, a neighbour of ours, who, when he grew up, wooed me for his bride. He was so good and kind, so faithful and true, his love so constant and pure, that he won my heart, and I vowed perpetual faith. Alas! the mind of the beloved youth I have poisoned, adder-like; I made him forget the virtuous precepts of his good mother, and have induced him to commit a crime for which he has forfeited his life.”
The gnome exclaimed, emphatically, “Thou!”
“Yes,” she replied, “I am his murderess; I have caused him to commit highway robbery; to plunder some knavish Jew: the Lords of Hirschberg have laid hold of him, tried him; and, alas! alas! to-morrow is the day appointed for his execution.”
“And this has been caused by thee?” asked Rübezahl, wonderingly.
“Yes, sir; his young blood lies on my conscience.”
“How so?”
“When his apprenticeship was done, in order to improve in his trade, he went over the mountains to visit the towns; at the hour of parting, when taking the last farewell, he said, ‘Sweet love, be true to me. When the apple-tree shall blossom for the third time, and the swallow prepare its nest, I shall return from my wanderings, to bring thee home as my young bride.’ And I faithfully promised to keep my vow. Now the apple-tree blossoms for the third time, the swallow is building its nest, and Benedix did return, reminded me of my promise, and sought to lead me to the altar. But I teazingly mocked him, as sometimes maidens do their lovers. I said, ‘I cannot be thy bride, for thou hast neither house nor money; and my little chamber is too small for two. First get bright coins, and then come and ask again.’ At these words the poor youth became very sad. ‘Ah, Clara!’ he sighed, with tears in his eyes, ‘carest thou for nothing but riches and gold? then art thou no longer the faithful maiden thou wert wont to be! Didst thou not grasp this hand, and pledge thy word to be true and faithful? And what had I then more than this hand, wherewith to support thee? From what proceeds thy pride and vain desires? Alas, Clara! I understand; a richer wooer has turned thy heart away from me. Is it thus that thou rewardest me, thou faithless one! Three such years have I spent in tedious languor for this hour, when I was to come and claim thee as my bride! How were my steps winged with joy and hope as I came
