ART AND LITERATURE

Wellington Independent, Volume I, Issue 29, 9 July 1845, Page 4

ART AND LITERATURE

THE DEAD MAN OF ST. ANNE'S CHAPEL. A CRIMINAL STORY.

The Discovery. (Continued from our last.) 'So ended my first conversation with Albertine. I communicated every thing to Hermann. He was silent. The matter appeared to rest. To my surprise and terror, however, I "discovered not only that he continued his correspondence with Blumenrode, but received answers from thence. I reproached him; he embiared me, and exclaimed in an agitated tone, —" O Max! interfere not with my plans. I count upon you. Albertine trusts to me —and yourself! All will booh be clear to you." 'My astonishment was indescribable. I still doubted: I thought Hermann must be deceiving me or himself. Yet it was as he said. Albertine had consented, not indeed to a re-union, but to give him a meeting. Hermann, it appears, haa assailed her in her tenderest part— her affection for her child. He had threatened that he and his family could and would reclaim the child by law, if she refused him the interview he asked. How Albertine, with her clear intellect, conld allow herself to be terrified with this bugbear ot a legal reclamation of the child, I know not; but so it was. She consented to Hermann's plan. That plan was as follows: — ' The gentry of the neighbourhood held weekly assemblies in Hilgenberg, and Albertine generally accompanied the Kettler family thither. The parties were numerous —gentlemen and ladies of all ages; excursions—amusements of all kinds—afforded opportunities for any one who choose to separate from the rest to do so without being observed. 'It was arranged that Albertine should be summoned from her party by a pretended message from a friend, to whom we gave the name of Madame Seehausen, and conducted to an appointed spot where I should be in waiting. The place fixed was the residence of a respectable woman in Hilgenberg. ' From this house I was to conduct Albertine ito a lonely ruin on the top of a neighbouring eminence; a spot which Hermann had discovered in the course of his rambles, and where he himself was to be in waiting. 'I could not disguise from myself the questionable, even the dangerous nature of this scheme. I would willingly have fustrated it; but now Albertine seemed anxious for the interview. She Tvas determined to bring the question as to the child to a point. I was obliged at last to reconcile myself to the plan. Hermann himself could not enter Hilgenberg, where he was known; Albertine could not venture to be seen in his company. To see him at Blumenrode was impossible; while her being seen in my company, either in Hilgenberg or the neighbourhood, would excite no remark. In short the plan, hazardous as it might be, was the only one which appeared practicable. 'The 10th of August was fixed for its execution. That day, however, the inclemency of the weather prevented. It was delayed for another week. ' I know not how it was, but during this intervail the thought move than once crossed my mind that Hermann had designs which he did not communicate to me or Albertine. I hinted this to her in writing. I received no written answer; but I learned in haste from. Albertine verbally, that on the 17th she would be at the place of rendezvous. 'Hermann and I were at our posts. But Albertine—l thanked Heaven for it in secret—Albertine came not. The illness of one of the family detained her. ' Hermann was not daunted. On the 24th, he was positive that Albertine would make her appearance. ' That ill-omened day approached; the most eventual, the most painful of my life. Early in the morning—it was a Saturday—l rode towards Hilgenberg. As I cast my eyes upwards in passing, I saw the concerted signal that Hermann was in the ruin. I hurried towards the assembly-room at Hilgenberg. ' I looked at the visiting list. I prayed that the Krettlers might be again detained. They were: but Albertine came—she had accompanied the family of Langsitz. ' There now remained no choice. The billet was despatched. After an hour of anxious expectation on my part, Albertine came. ' The calm dignity, the composure with which this extraordinary woman proceeded on her trying mission—while I, a man, felt my heart beat with an indefinable feeling of terror—overpowered me with surprise, and at last with shame. Time was valuable ; without delay we hurried through the garden, and in the direction of the woods, within whose deep shadows we were soon involved. From thence the path ascends, first _ gradually, then more steeply towards the ruin. Albertine was in her assembly dress; she slid frequently with her thin smooth shoes; it was only by exerting all my strength that I was able "to support and assist her in her ascent. Her heroic perseverance, however, overcame every difficulty. 'At the distance of a few steps from the ruin we were met by Hermann. Albertine's heart beat audibly. There he stood before her—the broken-down, degraded man, before the woman blooming in the lustre of almost maiden beauty. What a meeting! What feelings must have been awakened in the pure and noble heart of Albertine! Willingly could I conceal the degrading fact—but it must be spoken. Hermann appeared in a state of unnatural excitation; he had brought wine with him to the ruin—for what purpose I know not—and it soon became plain to me that he had indulged in it to excess. 'Even Albertine, who had not at first observed it, could not long be insensible to Hermann's condition. His whole behaviour had in it something wild, savage, and revolting. I saw by her looks that she repented the step which she

had taken; but the deed was done. I exerted myself accordingly to bring the conversation to the point, in the hope that the painful interview might the sooner terminate. Directing the old man, who had been Hermann's guide, to accompany us, we entered the ruin: he could not understand our conversation, which Was carried on in French. ' What shall I say of this conversation ? Its constant, ever-repeated theme was, on the one hand, Hermann's entreaties for a reconciliation and a re-union, on which he felt that his whole chance of amendment depended; on the other, Albertine's inflexible resolution not to violate the injunction of her father. Both parties became warm — reproachful expressions were uttered by Hermann. There was a pause —the day had become hot. Hermann directed the guide to unpack the refreshments. We men applied ourselves to them vigorously. Albertine, at my request, ate a few morsels to repair her strength. Hermann, ji> spite of my remonstrances, indulged in long draughts of strong and fiery wine; his entreaties, addressed to his wife, became more urgent, and at last assumed the tone of threats, directed both against her and her child. Albertine rose—she saw it was time to depart—l watched her every look. ' Hermann perceived it, and, with a demoniac look and wildly rolling eye, exclaimed, —"Ay, you are in league—-I see through you." 'Albertine cast on him a look of pity and contempt. "Herr yon Nordech," she said, " I go." ' " So, you go!" cried Hermann in a fearful tone. He held a large two-edged knife in his hand. "You go!—go then —forsake me —cast me back into a life which to me is hell. Life ! —no; it is death itself. Go —but first see me die!" And he made a motion with the knife as if to stab himself. ' What happened afterwards ? I try in vain to realize to myself the order of events in the next moment. I know only that the words thoughtlessly escaped me. * " Hermann, are you not ashamed to play off this mummery before your noble wife?" ' This reproach seemed to have inflamed him to madness. ' " Wretch!" he exclaimed, " do I not know how to die?" 'Scarcely had he uttered these words when he lay at my feet in his blood, the handle of the knife convulsively clasped in his hand, the blade plunged into his heart. Albertine lay beside him, herself bleeding and insensible. 'Scarcely knowing what I did, I raised her. Her right hand bled. In the moment of the death-blow she had seized hold of the knife to stay hi 3 hand—but in vain. 1 The guide drew the knife from Hermann's breast—it was too late. A single slight movement of the head, a faint rattling in the throat, and Hermann was no more. ' Albertine, the weak and tender woman, was the first who evinced promptitude and coolness in these trying circumstances. The deceased was the object of her solicitude. The body, she said, could not be allowed to remain there. Her husband, the father of her children, must not be left exposed and unburied—at all hazards, she was resolved that his remains should find a grave in Christian earth. ' The guide suggested the scheme of carrying the body down from the ruin and placing i'; in the neighbourhood of the chapel beneath, where it was certain in a short time to be discovered, and would be taken for the body of some one who had been robbed and murdered on the mountain; in which case it would obtain interment in consecreted ground, which would be denied to it if known to be the remains of a suicide. We thought the plan feasible. With the assistance of the guide I stripped the body of its upper garments, purse, watch, and portfolio. The clothes we concealed in a pit behind the ruin, covering them carefully with stones. The watch, the purse, the marriage-ring, and theportfolio, Albertine at my request, took into her possession. The seal-ring we were obliged to leave on the right hand; it could not be drawn off without mutilation. We tore to pieces the silk cravat which Hermann wore, and bound it tightly round the body to staunch the torrent of blood which still flowed from the wound, and by which my clothes were already sullied—then 5 raising the body in our arms, we carried it from: the ruin and deposited it on the greensward before the chapel. It was now full time to make the best of our way to Hilgenberg. The guide undertook to conduct Albertine to some surgeon who would dress her wound. I supported her in her desent. Bitterly did she now express her regret that she had violated her promise to her father under the terror of being separated from her child; perhaps— though she did not confess it —under the influence of old attachment to her husband. " But never, never!" she exclaimed, shall he have the misery of knowing that I have violated his injunctions; the idea of such disobedience on the part of a beloved daughter would be his death. Come what will—nay though the arm of the law should be extended to persecute me—l will be silent; silent to the scaffold—to the grave!" * I exerted all my eloquence to dissipate this unhappy idea by which Albertine was haunted but without success. In a tone which cut me to the heart, she repeated, that her last prayer to me was—that, as long as her father lived I would reveal to no one that she had seen Hermann. I promised solemnly what she required The guide, touched by her grief, promised, with tears in his eyes, to do the same. 'Already we were beginning to emerge from the wood. My clothes, I knew, were spotted with blood ; but on Albertine's dress there was only a few specks, which might easily be accounted for by the wound in her hand. At this moment she discovered that she had dropped her glove. We saw how important it was to recover it; I offered to re-ascend for that purpose thinking I should have no difficulty in overtaking her. My search was long and vain • the glove was not to be found. When I again reached the the road, Albertine was gone. She had proceeded on her way, accompanied by her guide. I reach my quarters about dusk; and I saw her no more till I met her here. Thank God! my coming was not too late!' 'Thanks to God, indeed!' said the worthy president. ' I believe your story: it bears on its face the stamp of truth. But the forms of law'

with. The evidence of the woodman will be necessary to confirm your statement. Where is he ? # t «I have keot my eye on him,' said Nordech. 'His name is'Florian Krauss; and he innabits a small cottage in the village of Zellenbach. •He shall be summoned. One other circumstance I should wish explained. The purse of the deceased was dropped into the poor s-chest of the chapel, with the scrap of writing. How does that cohere with your plan of representing the deceased as having been robbed ? Nordech looked at the paper with surprise. 'I cannot explain it,' he replied, 'except that Albertine, solely occupied with her own scheme of procuring burial for her husband, may have forgotten our arrangement, and dropped the purse into the box while she remained in the chapel, during the time we removed the body. The old man made his appearance, and his testimony completely corroborated the story of Nordech. One doubt may still remain to he cleared up. How came it that Nordech had been so long separated from the chief actor in this extraordinary event?—how came it that the news of her danger only reached him in the most critical moment ? , . ■ Thus it was:—His regiment, within a few weeks after the eventful 24th of August, were ordered into another quarter, and afterwards reduced. Nordech resumed his original profession, that of a mining engineer, and distinguished himself so much, that he was # selected to accompany a mining expedition which the Government sent out to Brazil. Pleased wilh the prospects which the New World afforded, he determined to settle there entirely. Before doing so, however, he resolved to visit his native country once more, finally to arrange his affairs before leaving it for ever. His business concluded, he resolved to pay a parting visit to the scenes where he had fought in defence of his country. His way led him through that district where he had been the involuntary witness of such eventful occurrences. The newspapers of the department announced the opening .of the assizes in Hamburg; one case was mentioned as likely to attract peculiar attention : the initials only of the parties were given, but to him they were enough. There was no doubt : the accused was Albertine! Thus fearfully had her dark presentiment been fulfilled. He hurried to Blumenrode: there he would hear all; he learned all that the family had to tell: it was enough to convince him of the pressing nature of the danger. Albertine's sentence was expected to be pronounced that day, and the worst fears were entertained as to j the result. 'And her parents,' he enquired, 'do they know of this? Are they here?' 'The colonel is dead,' was the reply, 'he never learned the danger in which Albertine stood. The unfortunate mother, with admirable prudence, contrived to make bim believe to the I last that Albertine was merely involved in a ' troublesome process with Ferdinand yon Pre- j ussach as to her settlements. Her mother has i not dared, however, to break the tidings to her, tearing that the shock might be too much for her, when coupled with her own misfortunes. 'In the name of Heaven,' exclaimed Nordech, ' Albertine has not yet heard of her! father's death! She must hear of it, and that instantly.' The ground seemed to burn beneath his feet: ta was deaf to every question which was asked. 'To Hamburg!' he exclaimed—'to Hamburg! Every instant is precious.' In a moment his horse was ready, and in full gallop for Hamburg. He was told the court was still sitting. He made his way through the thronged passages with difficulty; he saw the jury retiring; his eyes lighted upon the prisoner. The rest the reader already knows. Hapening to be in Marseilles in 1820,1 met, in the saloon of the inn, the young nurse of a pretty little girl of seven years old, to whom the attendant gave the name of Constance. Seeing she was a German, I entered into conversation with her, and learned that the sweet was waiting for her parents, who were just expected—and that the family were about to sail from thence for the Brazils. I asked their names, and were told Nordech. Now that the lady's mother is dead,' continued the nurse, 'theyhave nothing to bind them any longer to this country.' Nordech I The name sounded to me as familiar. I enquired further. I learned that Constance was the stepdaughter of Nordech—that her name was Fraulein yon rreussach. I saw it all. The lovely child was Albertine's daughter—the daughter of the unfortunate Hermann yon Preussach—the dead man of St Anne's Chapel. A.servant entered to announce thatthefamily were come, and were waiting in the carriage lhe nurse dressed the child, and hurried down with her. I advanced to the window. A lady and gentleman sat in the carriage. The lady looked up; it gave me an opportunity of perusing again those well known and still beautiful features which could never be forgotten It was Albertine. The carriage drove onwards to the pier; and the ocean soon lay between her and that land where she had encountered so many sorrows. THE END.