



Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive







Transcriber's Note:

   1. Page scan source:
      http://www.archive.org/details/ekkehardtaleofte02scheuoft





                               COLLECTION

                                   OF

                            GERMAN AUTHORS.

                                VOL. 22.


                           *   *   *   *   *


                  EKKEHARD BY JOSEPH VICTOR SCHEFFEL.


                            IN TWO VOLUMES.

                                VOL. II.






                               EKKEHARD.

                      A TALE OF THE TENTH CENTURY


                                   BY

                        JOSEPH VICTOR SCHEFFEL.


                         _Authorized Edition_.


                       TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN

                                   BY

                             SOFIE DELFFS.


                       IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. II.




                              LEIPZIG 1872
                          BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ.

           LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE & RIVINGTON.
                  CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.
             PARIS: C. REINWALD, 15, RUE DES SAINTS PERES.






                                CONTENTS

                             OF VOLUME II.


CHAPTER    XV. Hadumoth

          XVI. Cappan gets married

         XVII. Gunzo verso Ekkehard

        XVIII. Master Spazzo the Chamberlain's Mission

          XIX. Burkhard the Cloister-Pupil

           XX. The old German Legends

          XXI. Rejection and Flight

         XXII. On the Wildkirchlein

        XXIII. On the Ebenalp

         XXIV. The Song of Waltari

          XXV. The last Echo, and End





                               EKKEHARD.




                              CHAPTER XV.

                               Hadumoth.

The night, which had appeared long and dreary to those who had been
entrusted with the watch on the battle-field, was passing away. The
horror of Death lay over the whole valley. "The Lord be merciful unto
their souls," sounded the low-voiced call of the watchman. "And deliver
them from the sufferings of purgatory, Amen!" was the response of his
companions, who were cowering round a campfire, on the border of the
pine-wood. The deep black shadows of night lay over the bodies of the
slain, as if the Heavens compassionately wished to hide what human
hands had done there. At dawn of day, even the clouds disappeared, as
if they also were driven away by the horror of the sight beneath them;
others came, and likewise fled, ever changing their shapes and forms;
losing one to assume another,--everything is restless, except in Death,
where eternal rest is found. Friend and enemy, side by side as they had
fallen, still lay there; quiet and calm.

One slight figure like that of a child, the watchman saw gliding over
the battle-field. It bent down; walked on, and bent down again, and
ever continued its search; but he dared not call to it. He stood like
one that is spell-bound. "Probably it is the angel who is marking their
foreheads with a letter, so that they can be recognized, when the
spirit will return to their bodies, on the day of resurrection,"
thought he, remembering the words of the prophet. Silently he crossed
himself, and when he looked again, the figure had vanished.

The morning dawned, and there came a number of men from the arrier-ban,
to relieve the monks. The Duchess had sent them; although Simon Bardo
was not quite satisfied with this arrangement. "A victory is but half a
victory, if it is not followed up, by pursuit of the enemy. We ought to
go after them, until the last of them are annihilated," he said. But
the monks insisted on their return on account of the Easter holidays,
and the others said: "Before we could catch those, on their swift
horses, we should have far to go. They have come to us, and we have
beaten them, and if they should come again, we have more blows in store
for them;--the work of yesterday deserves rest."

Then it was determined upon, that the dead should be buried before the
break of Easter Sunday.

So the men fetched their spades and hoes, and dug two wide graves. On
one side of the field there was an abandoned gravel-pit, which they
widened into a spacious resting-place. This last was destined for the
dead Huns. Arms and harnesses were taken off and collected; forming a
considerable heap in all. Then the corpses were thrown down; one after
the other, as they were brought. It was a mass of torn members,
repulsive to the eye; men and horses in wild confusion; a throng, as
when the rebellious host of angels fell down into hell.

The pit was filled. One of the grave-diggers came and brought a
solitary