The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Iii Part 103

Wherever danger is, will you be placed.

On you, as ever, will the burden fall.

[ILl.u.s.tRATION]

TELL.

Each man shall have the post that fits his powers.

 

HEDWIG.

You took--ay, 'mid the thickest of the storm-- The man of Unterwald across the lake.

'Tis marvel you escaped. Had you no thought Of wife and children, then?

TELL.

Dear wife, I had; And therefore saved the father for his children.

HEDWIG.

To brave the lake in all its wrath! 'Twas not To put your trust in G.o.d! 'Twas tempting Him.

TELL.

Little will he that's over cautious do.

HEDWIG.

Yes, you've a kind and helping hand for all But be in straits, and who will lend you aid?

TELL.

G.o.d grant I ne'er may stand in need of it!

_[Takes up his cross-bow and arrows_.]

HEDWIG.

Why take your cross-bow with you? leave it here.

TELL.

I want my right hand, when I want my bow.

_[The boys return_.]

WALTER.

Where, father, are you going?

TELL.

To grand-dad, boy-- To Altdorf. Will you go?

WALTER. Ay, that I will!

HEDWIG.

The Viceroy's there just now. Go not to Altdorf!

TELL.

He leaves today.

HEDWIG.

Then let him first be gone, Cross not his path.--You know he bears us grudge.

TELL.

His ill-will cannot greatly injure me.

I do what's right, and care for no man's hate.

HEDWIG.

'Tis those who do what's right, whom most he hates.

TELL.

Because he cannot reach them. Me, I ween, His knights.h.i.+p will be glad to leave in peace.

HEDWIG.

Ay!--Are you sure of that?

TELL.

Not long ago, As I was hunting through the wild ravines Of Shechenthal, untrod by mortal foot-- There, as I took my solitary way Along a shelving ledge of rocks, where 'twas Impossible to step on either side; For high above rose, like a giant wall, The precipice's side, and far below The Shechen thunder'd o'er its rifted bed;--

[_The boys press toward him, looking upon him_ _with excited curiosity.]_

There, face to face, I met the Viceroy. He Alone with me--and I myself alone-- Mere man to man, and near us the abyss, And when his lords.h.i.+p had perused my face, And knew the man he had severely fined On some most trivial ground, not long before, And saw me, with my st.u.r.dy bow in hand, Come striding toward him, his cheek grew pale, His knees refused their office, and I thought He would have sunk against the mountain side.

Then, touch'd with pity for him, I advanced, Respectfully, and said "'Tis I, my lord."

But ne'er a sound could he compel his lips To frame in answer. Only with his hand He beckoned me in silence to proceed.

So I pa.s.s'd on, and sent his train to seek him.

HEDWIG.

He trembled, then, before you? Woe the while You saw his weakness; that he'll ne'er forgive.