'"Nothing easier," said Talleyrand, "than to found a new religion: you have only to be crucified, and to rise again the third day."'
HUBERT'S three years in Bohemia had matured him greatly in mind and character. The Divine law, ‘Give, and it shall be given you,' proves its truth in many unexpected ways. The youth who pours at the feet of some noble leader a wealth of genuine devotion is educating himself thereby to deserve and receive a similar tribute, and to become God's instrument in molding and fashioning young souls after His grand design. And thus he inherits the promise, ‘Instead of thy fathers thou shalt have children, whom thou mayest make princes in all the earth.'
To Vaclav, Hubert was a dear elder brother; and also, scholar though he had been bred, ' the very pink and mirror of chivalry.' The other youths followed suit; and during his brief stay in Prague the students of the University caught the infection and made a hero of him; the rather, because his experiences at the Sorbonne enabled him to enter into the frolic and excitement of their lives, and to sympathize with them in all innocent enjoyments.
In the sad days that followed the death of the lady of Pihel, Hubert was necessary, in one way or another, to almost everyone there. Stasek, good man and faithful pastor though he was, had been denied the crowning gift of sympathy. He was a priest, so he had never known for himself the sweetness of domestic ties; and he lacked imagination, which sees the unseen, and knows the unknown, by the grace of God. He thought ‘it was a good thing for Pani Sophia to be taken from the changes and chances of a world just then exceptionally troublesome,' and he said so to her silent, uncomplaining lord, and to her broken-hearted children. It was very true, and they did not dispute it. Only Chlum was sometimes heard to murmur, with a heavy sigh, ‘Oh for Master John! '
It was to Hubert that Vaclav poured forth his boyish sorrow, weeping passionately and reproaching himself bitterly —as those who have least cause for it so often do—with every fault, real or imaginary, of which he had ever been guilty towards the best of mothers.
To Hubert came Ostrodek also with his burden of remorseful sorrow. ‘I never intended,' said he, ‘to forsake my lord's service and become a masterless man. But fate was too strong for me.'
It was the day after the Páni’s funeral, and they were standing together in the great hall, now silent and deserted. ‘But what is a man made for save to conquer his fate?’ asked Hubert, looking earnestly at the tall youth, with his long, black hair and bronzed, resolute features. ‘If thou hadst been true man to thy lord, and returned at once from the errand he sent thee upon, all would have been well.' ‘Thou knowest my lord sent me to Hussenec̆.'
Hubert knew, and had often regretted it. He knew also that it was Ostrodek's evident restlessness and longing for change which had induced Chlum to make him his messenger, under the impression that a little action and adventure would do him good.
‘I had to go and seek him in the South,' Ostrodek resumed; ‘down there in the neighborhood of Austi. In all those parts there was nothing to be heard but the clash of armor, the drilling of men, and preparing for war. Still, I was coming back-on my faith, Master Hubert, I was coming back-having done my errand well and truly, when my luck was to fall in with a band of peasants; sturdy lads, armed with their flails, at the end of which they put iron spikes or balls. Two or three gentlemen were with them, and a few pikemen and archers, properly armed. But, after all, I think the flails are the best. They were singing songs and hymns, as they marched along on their way to that rook's-nest of a monastery where, they told me, the monks had shut up some of their friends, and were starving and torturing them. Now I ask you, Master Hubert, what was a man to do?—But you know the rest.' A fierce light gleamed in his black eyes, and his dark cheek glowed crimson. If we routed the rooks and made a bonfire of the nest, let those look to it who kindled that fire in Constance.'
‘With that,' said Hubert, ‘the Franciscans of St. Joseph's, whom you harried, had nothing to do. And, if they had—'
‘If they had, think you we would have said to them, "Go and find shelter where ye may, ye birds of evil omen?" Not so, by all the saints! There would have been another tale to tell and not a mother's son of them left to tell it! But you see, Master Hubert, that I could not return to Pihel after that. It would have been in everyone's mouth that Kepka was harboring disorderly folk who burned monasteries; nay, that he let his own folk do it, and received them back again. Even the king would have heard of it; and, Master Hubert, the king respects Kepka more than he does most men, and it would be a pity to spoil that.'
‘Where, then, hast thou been?’ asked Hubert. ‘While I was in Prague I tried hard to find thee, and could not.'
‘I can scarce tell you. I have been in many places, and with many men. At Tabor, at Austi, at Pilsen, with Husseneć, with Zdenko, with— But when I heard in Prague ten days agone that the Pani was sick unto death cc I tarried not an hour, as thou knowest.' There was a silence. Then he said, in a gentler voice, ‘Master Hubert, I pray of thee to be a suitor for me unto my lord, that he may pardon me.'
‘He hath pardoned thee already, Ostrodek. The dear lady's dying words assure thee of that. Strange that thou, of all others, should have had her last word, and her last conscious look!'
‘Yes, strange that I, so unworthy.' He paused a moment; then drew from beneath his vest a lady's glove of Spanish leather, soiled and worn. ‘I found this yesterday,' he said. ‘Thinkest thou my lord will let me keep it? If he will, I shall wear it always in her honor, for she was like our Lady in heaven—kind and gracious unto all, and specially unto me, the outlaw's son. So was Kepka, and so wert thou, Master Hubert. You would fain have made a gentle Christian knight of me among you, if it was to be! But fate and the devil were too strong for you. I have but to see the flash of a sword, and the color of blood, and, God help me! I know no more till I am knee-deep in it, with the sword done to shivers, and the hilt of it glued to my hand. I can stop, and consider, and hold myself in, just as much as the wind can. I must fight, and slay, and burn. It is all I am fit for, and I verily think it is what God made me for, if it was God who made me at all. There, do not speak to me: it is of no use. I know all you would say; and I would live so as to please you and Kepka, and—and the others—if I could; but I cannot. There is one thing more that I have got to say to thee, Master Hubert. I know, as well as thou, that I am the last of a doomed race. What is there for me, after all, but fighting and bloodshed? Gold I shall never care for. I could have had as much as I could carry out of the treasures of that monastery. As for other joys—such as woman's love—they are not for the son of Zul of Ostrodek. I made up my mind to that while I was still here with you. We boys—Lucaz, Karel, and I—we all worshipped the ground Parma Zedenka trod upon, and I dare say Lucaz and Karel do still. It began almost from the first; but it grew more and more when she used to teach us heraldry. It did not matter for the others, who were children; but my childhood came to an end forever when I kissed my father and bade him good-bye in the prison at seven years old. I know, of course, that I was the veriest fool that trod on God's earth—that Pánna Zedenka was as much beyond my reach as the stars of heaven—but I could not help myself. I loved. And with Ostrodek, love or hate once is love or hate always. You are laughing at me, Master Hubert!'
‘I? No, dear boy; no! God forbid! '
‘Our race, which ends with me, was ever foremost in love, as in war. But all that is over now. She shall never know. No one shall ever know, save you.'
Hubert made one step forward, took Ostrodek's hand, and pressed it with a mighty pressure, as if in a vice. But something which rose in his throat prevented him from speaking.
‘You are hurting me,' said Ostrodek, with a smile; ‘but I like it. Now you understand. I shall never have living lady to fight for and to win, as others use. Therefore, if Kepka will let me keep this token of the lady who is dead, I will wear it right loyally, and worship her memory, and do doughty deeds in her honor so long as I live. But I dare not ask him—at least, not yet—not until I know he has forgiven me.'
‘He has forgiven thee,' Hubert assured him once more. ‘Thou wilt return to thy duty, serve him faithfully, and learn to be a true knight, as he is.'
‘He would not have me.'
‘Nay, he will welcome thee. Was not that the dear lady's last word—"Welcome home?" '
‘I should disgrace him.'
‘Disgrace him! And thou dost talk of wearing his lady's favor!'
‘When it comes to fighting, I shall not disgrace any man, Master Hubert. If Kepka would only fight! But seeing he will not, I might chance some day to give place to the devil—as you would say—and lose his favor forever. But that is not all. There are things no man may bear in silence day after day. If the Pánna had wedded Hussenec̆, and gone away to the South, I might have stayed with Kepka and with thee. As it is, best I should go. But pray of him to give me first his forgiveness and his blessing.'
‘Whither thinkest thou to go? '
‘Oh, as for that, when I was at Pilsen I chanced to render a small service to the Lord John of Trocsnov, the king's chamberlain—he whom men call Zisca. No doubt thou knowest him by report; hast thou ever seen him? '
‘As far as I know, I have not.'
‘If thou hadst, thou wouldest know it well. A man with one eye hath something to be remembered by; but, besides, his face is like no other man's. He hath a deep line down the midst of his forehead, a nose like an eagle's, and a great head closely shaven. Heardest thou what passed lately between him and King Wenzel? '
‘No.'
‘The Knight of Trocsnov was walking in the court of the palace, sad of cheer and lost in thought. The king saw him from a window, beckoned him, and asked what ailed him. "I am thinking," said Zisca, "of Master John Huss, and of the grievous insult the nation hath received in his death." "Neither you nor I can help that," saith the king. "But if you can do anything, take courage, and avenge your countryman!" I think, Master Hubert, that if the Kaiser tries to enforce the Bull of Pope Martin upon Bohemia, the world will hear more of John of Trocsnov.'
‘I think,' said Hubert, ‘the Kaiser will hardly dare so far.'
‘At least, he is trying all he can to cajole, or threaten, or persuade King Wenzel into doing it,' said Ostrodek, ‘Wenzel will have to yield in the end to his imperial brother, who is by far the stronger; and then look out for martyr fires.'
‘Neither king nor Kaiser can burn half the nation,' said Hubert.
‘Let them try!’ said Ostrodek, with a grim smile. ‘In the meantime, this same Knight of Trocsnov hath offered me my silver spurs, and I am fain to think I will go to perdition a little less quickly in his service than in that of Kepka, although, God knows, I love Kepka well. Therefore, wilt ask him to forgive me, and to let me go? '
At this point in the conversation the little Jewish doctor came bustling in. Strangely enough, he had fallen ill himself the very day of the Páni’s death, and only now was he well enough to leave Pihel. He came to ask Hubert to provide him with the means of departure.
Hubert, of course, shared the prejudices of his age, and looked down upon the Jew from an immeasurable height; though, in common with the other inmates of the castle, he treated him with half-pitying kindness. This kindness was recognized and felt by the physician, who had not met with it too frequently.
‘You have been good to me, Master Hubert,' he said. ‘For my part, I think Hussites are better than Christians.'
‘Better than Christians!’ said Hubert. ‘What do you mean? I hope we are good Christians.'
‘I beg your pardon, master squire, if I have said aught amiss. I do not comprehend the religions of the Goim.'
'There is but one religion that I ever heard of,' said Hubert; ‘the true religion of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, which I wish you believed, Master Nathan,'
‘To be frank with you, master squire, I have been considering the matter, and with much attention.'
Hubert's face showed the pleasure he felt. ‘I wish you would read our Holy Scriptures,' he said.
‘I have read them,' said the Jew.
This conversation was carried on in French; and, as Ostrodek did not understand a word of it, he presently whistled to Bralik, who was lying half asleep before the empty hearth, and they went out together.
The Jew looked after him in silence for a minute, then turned to Hubert once more. ‘Your Christian custom of paying adoration to images is a great stumbling-block to us,' he said. ‘We think it a breach of the second commandment, which God gave to our fathers, and which you also acknowledge.'
‘We do not adore them,' said Hubert. ‘Master John was very careful to avoid mistakes upon that point, and to teach everyone that God—and God alone—is to be believed in, worshipped, and adored.'
‘I have heard what your learned doctors say upon the subject,' returned the Jew. ‘And I do not in this matter speak for myself, for I am, if you will know the truth, a disciple of Averrhöes.'
‘I know the truth no better than I did,' returned Hubert, ‘for I never heard of Averrhöes.'
‘He was a great philosopher, master squire. But pardon me for speaking of these matters, which do not generally interest knights and gentlemen, and indeed are considered beneath their attention. Nevertheless, as I know you to be also a good scholar, there is one question I would fain ask of you, if you will not think me over bold.'
‘Speak on.'
‘I see not yet in your churches, amongst the images of those whom, let us say, you venerate—that of your founder. And more, your lady, who was most devout, scarce spoke of him during the last days of her life, so far as I know. How is that? '
‘Our founder?'
‘Naturally—he whom they burned at Constance. And let me tell you, Master Hubert, that I know he was a good man—unjustly slain. It was for envy that council of priests delivered him up—you see, I have read your Scriptures. I have been in two places which make me think the Christian faith has some power in it that as yet I know not—the palace of Balthazar Cossa and the prison of John Huss.'
'About the last I understand you,' said Hubert; ‘about the first—not.'
‘That the Christian faith survives such scandals as the one seems to me as strange as that it sustains such miseries as the other. One thinks it must be choked by the tide of corruption, and perish out of the world; but lo! it springs up again in men's hearts, here and there and everywhere, afresh as the first day.'
‘The faith must survive,' said Hubert, ' for it is from God.'
‘In a sense, though not the sense you think. For it is from Nature: and Nature is God, and God is Nature. You can see how it grew up, aided by what is going on here, under your very eyes. Its Founder, whom you adore as God, was a just man, who went about doing good, preaching truth, love, and mercy. He was hated—as the darkness hates the light—betrayed, delivered up, slain. This burned the love of Him into the hearts of His followers, who preached His doctrines, kept a solemn feast in His honor, were called by His name. Because they had a great memory, a great love, a great passion to animate them, they grew and prevailed and waxed strong, until they changed the face of the world. That is how new religions grow up. Do you understand me, Master Hubert? '
Hubert understood him just well enough to be horror-stricken at the comparison he hinted. It was given him to make the right answer. ‘But Christ rose again the third day.'
‘His spirit rose again, and lived in His followers. Anon, when I walked through the village I heard someone sing—
'"He is dead; but his spirit lives on
In the quenchless devotion we feel."'
‘No! no! no!’ cried Hubert, passionately, and now ally awake to the tendency of all this. ‘No; not His spirit—His body rose again. I think, Master Nathan, it is mortal sin to listen to you, and I am putting my soul in peril.'
‘Pardon me,' said the Jew, ‘I have no wish to offend you. What should I gain by it? You and the others here have showed me more kindness than our race often gets from the Goim. What I say is by way of a proposition fox discussion—a thesis, as you call it in your schools—for you are a scholar, Master Hubert. Doubtless, as time went on, the followers of your Christ came to believe that Hit Jody rose again.'
‘They did not believe,' cried Hubert. ‘They saw, and they saw that very day.'
‘So, of course, you have been taught to think. All depends on the proofs; and, for my own part, I confess tha never yet have I fairly studied them. In the meantime, have seen what the self-sacrifice of a great martyr and thy love and loyalty of his disciples can do. And I ask—not of you, but of myself—Is there more than this?'
‘More, a thousand times.'
‘It is natural, it is right, that yet should think so. I Constance you thought the sun was darkened, and would not believe when I told you it was but the earth. It was n more a miracle than the falling of your shadow on the gran; I knew beforehand it was going to happen, and could hay told you,'
‘I doubt if such knowledge be lawful,' said Hubert.
‘It is quite lawful, even in the opinion of your own doctors and teachers,' returned the Jew. ‘There is a priest now in Prague, and one whom you esteem a good Hussite, Master Christian Praschatic, who is learned in the science of the heavenly bodies. He will foretell eclipses for you, both of the sun and of the moon.'
‘Can you, Master Nathan? '
‘I know of them from the calculations of the wise men who lived before us.'
‘Tell me some, prithee, that I may know of them also; if indeed thou canst,' said Hubert, rather incredulously.
‘I have not my books with me here. I wish I had—just to convince you.'
‘Nay, never mind, Master Nathan,' said Hubert, courteously, but with an involuntary smile, which the Jew did not fail to remark. It piqued him, and moved him to an effort to show off his learning.
‘I remember something at this moment, which I will tell you,' he said. ‘You know that the year which follows next year will have a day in it more than that, or this? '
Hubert thought a moment, then said, ‘Yes; it will be leap year.'
‘Then, wheresoever thou art, in the night that follows that day, a little after midnight, look thou at the heavens, and thou shalt see the moon darkened, as the sun was in Constance; that is, of course, if the night be clear.'
‘I shall remember,' said Hubert. He inclined to the opinion expressed in Constance by Armand, that the clever Jew was a little crazy. Still, he longed to win him for the faith of Christ. ‘I wish,' he said, ‘that when you return to Prague you would go and hear Master Christian preach.'
‘I have no objection,' said the tolerant Jew, at heart a free-thinker. ‘Certainly I shall visit him, for I want to converse with him upon the science of astronomy, in which we are both so much interested. For a time I shall abide in Prague—but perhaps not long; for I am a wanderer to and fro upon the face of the earth. It is the doom of our race. You and your friends have dealt well with me, Master Hubert, and wherever I go, if it be in my power to do a good turn to any of this house, from the lord of alum to the dark lad that left us just now, my will shall not be lacking.'
‘The best turn you could do for us,' said Hubert kindly, ‘would be to let us have the joy of hearing you believed in Christ our Lord. We will pray for you.'
‘I thank your good will. Such faith as yours is not ill to live by, or to die in. But you think you have all the truth, when you have but a fragment, and that you misunderstand. Well, master, you will speak for me to your lord, and arrange about my departure? Give him also, I pray of you, my hearty thanks for his generous treatment of me.'
Hubert's honest heart was troubled by the words of the Jew. How indignant Master John would be, he thought, could he hear such a blasphemous comparison! Surely it would hurt him more than all the insults and mockeries of his enemies. He remembered his look of grief and horror that day in the cathedral, when slanderously accused of having made himself as God. It had given him, most likely, the last pang he knew upon earth. Were those who loved him exposing him to this by the very wealth of their hero-worship? So much Hubert could see; but he failed to see that the Jew had caught the end of a clue of thought which, if honestly followed out, might lead him to the feet of Christ. Comparison shows differences; and there is difference, wide as that which sunders earth from heaven, between the wisest teacher, the holiest saint, the most self-sacrificing martyr, and the Man who was crucified on Calvary. Other men have been holy and beloved, have made disciples, taught them, died for them. What more did He do—what more was He—that, centuries after, men and women who had never seen His face should die for the love of Him, with His name upon their lips?
Hubert's mind soon turned from the perplexing arguments of the Jew to the more intelligible concerns of Ostrodek. Yes; under all the circumstances it was well that Ostrodek should go. He would speak to Kepka, and, without betraying the poor lad's confidence, make all right with him. For his own part, he loved him, he even respected him, more than he had ever done before. Respected him! As he thought over his words, and the revelation they contained, a sudden shiver of pain and shame ran through him. Sometimes a moment flashes into consciousness the outcome of years of unconscious growth. Was Ostrodek indeed more noble, more straightforward, more honorable than himself?
Nearly three years ago Hubert set his foot upon the fair flower of love just beginning to unfold, and crushed it, as he thought, forever. But he knew now too well that he had only bent its stem. Since then he had let it raise its head again, and bloom and flourish unchecked. And now?
It was not so easy for him to efface himself—to go away and seek another service—as for Ostrodek. At Pihel everyone wanted him—at least, almost everyone—from his beloved lord, to whom his soul clave, down to the lowest menial. If there was an exception, it was that one whose slightest look and gesture had more power with him than the words of all the rest. The Palma, so awe-inspiring when he came first, had grown frank and friendly as time wore on. But of late it seemed to him that she had frozen up again. At first, in her anxiety and watching—now, in her sorrow and loneliness—she was unapproachable. An invisible wall, like a sheet of glass, seemed to stand between them. Still, he was not going to be a coward, and to quit his post. What was right for Ostrodek would be wrong for him. He must do his work where he was, bear his fate as he might, and trust God for the rest. As said the French proverb he had learned at the Sorbonne, Fais ce que dois, adivienne que pourra.