The Daily Dispatch: June 7, 1861., [Electronic resource]

Count Otto and his Bride.
a German Christmas legend.

You may have observed the ruins of an old castle, about half a league hence, on the road to Strasburg. There is nothing remarkable in them, except the massive castle gate, above which, deep sunk in the stone, and as clearly and sharply defined as if executed but yesterday, is the impress of a small, delicate hand. One of the early lords of the castle was Count Otto von Gorgas, a young, handsome and gallant knight, whose sole delight was in the exciting pleasures of the chase. So devoted, indeed, was he to his favorite pursuit that love could find no entrance to his heart, and the fairest damsels signed in vain for a tender glance or a soft speech from the insensible young Nimrod. At length his indifference to the sex had become so notorious that all the manŒnvring mothers on the banks of the Rhine had given up in despair the idea of securing him as a match for their daughters; while the disappointed maidens, in revenge for his insensibility to their charms, gave him the name of Steinherzig (stony-hearted), by which he became generally known. The Count, however, only laughed at the anger of the ladies, and continued to kill with his own hand so much game that the retainers at the castle made it a special condition on entering his service that they should not be compelled to eat venison or wild boar hams more than four days in the week. One Christmas Eve that Count Otto, in honor of the festival, had ordered a battue in the forest that then surrounded his castle, the sport was so exciting that at the close of the day he found himself, separated from his followers, in a remote part of the forest, close to a deep clear spring, known to the country people as the Fairy's Well. His hands being stained with the blood of slaughtered wild boars, he dismounted from his horse to wash them in the fountain. Although the weather was cold, and while frost lay upon the dead leaves that covered the ground, Count Otto found, to his surprise, the water of the well singularly warm and pleasant.--A delicious sensation seemed to run through his veins, and, plunging his arms deeper into the limpid spring, he fancied he felt his right hand clasped by another small soft hand, and the gold ring which he wore gently drawn from his finger. Although annoyed by his loss, the Count thought the ring might have accidentally slipped from his finger; but the well being very deep and the day fast closing in, he remounted his horse and rode back to his castle, resolving in the morning to have the Fairy's Well emptied by his servants, little doubting that he should find his lost ring at the bottom.

Count Otto did not feel his wonted alacrity to sleep that night; he lay awake and restless, listening feverishly to the hoarse baying of the bandog in the court-yard until near midnight, when he distinctly heard the draw-bridge of the castle lowered, and a few minutes afterwards a sound of as many little feet pattering up the stone stairs and in an adjoining chamber. Then a wild strain of music came floating on the air, shooting a sweet, mysterious thrill to his heart. Rising softly from his bed, he hastily dressed himself; a little bell sounded, his chamber door was flung suddenly open, and the astonished Count, passing into the hall, found himself in the midst of an assemblage of diminutive but distinguished looking strangers of both sexes, who laughed, chatted, danced, and sang, without seeming in the least to notice him. In the centre of the hall stood a superb Christmas-tree, from which a multitude of variegated lights shed a flood of radiance through the apartment. Never before had a Christmas-tree borne such fruits; for, instead of toys and sweetmeats, the branches were hung with diamond stars and crosses, aigrettes and rubies and sapphires, baldricks embroidered with Oriental pearls, and daggers mounted in gold and studded with the rarest gems, at which the Count gazed without the power of uttering a word. While still lost in wonder at the scene, he could not comprehend, there was a movement at the end of the hail; the company respectfully fell back to make way for a newcomer! when suddenly, in the bright rays of the Christmas light, stood before Count Otto a young female of dazzling beauty. Her stature was small, like the other visitors, but she was exquisitely proportioned and magnificently dressed, as for a bail. A brilliant diadem sparkled amongst her raven lock; rich point lace only half-veiled her snow-white bosom, and a dress of rose-colored silk sat close to her slender figure, and fell in folds just so low as to reveal the neatest feet and ankles in the world; while her sleeves were short enough to display beautiful arms of dazzling whiteness. The charming stranger showed no awkward timidity, for going straight up to the Count she caught him by both hands, and in the sweetest of voices said: ‘"Dear Otto, I am come to return your visit."’ At the same time she raised her right hand to his lips, which obliged him to kiss it without making any reply; he felt spell-bound, fascinated, and suffered the beautiful stranger to draw him to a couch, where she placed herself at his side, while the guests amused themselves as they pleased. Creeping closer and closer to him, till she lay almost in his arms, on a sudden — heaven knows how — her lips met his, and before he could think about kissing them he had done so.

Count Otto, like many other men who have been placed in similar circumstances, was lost from that moment. ‘"My dear friend,"’ she lisped gently in his ear, ‘"I have brought you a Christmas present — that which you lost, and hardly hoped to find again, see, I bring it to you."’ And, drawing from her bosom a little casket set with diamonds, she placed it in the hands of the Count, who, on opening it, discovered, to his astonishment, the ring he had lost in the forest well. Carried away by a feeling as strange as it was irresistible, the Count pressed the casket, and then the lovely stranger, to his bosom. ‘"Delightful!"’ murmured the maiden, who certainly was not oppressed by maiden reserve. You must excuse me narrating the particulars of the Count's vehement wooing, and how, before they parted that night, the enamored man had offered his hand to his fair guest, which she accepted on condition that he should promise never to pronounce the word ‘ "death"’ in her presence. He gave the required assurance, and the next day the marriage of Count Otto von Gorgas and the lovely Ernestine —— for so was she called — made him, as the romancists of the period said, ‘"the happiest of mortals. "’ As the young Countess was handsome, submissive, and prodigiously wealthy, they lived very happily together for some years in their feudal castle. One day, however, it chanced that they were to assist at grand tourney in the neighborhood. The Lady Ernestine's paliray stood in waiting for her at the castle gate; but, being too much occupied in adjusting a new and becoming head-gear which her milliner had just brought home, she delayed so long that the Count, who had been impatiently striding in his armor up and down the great hail for nearly half an hour, completely lost his temper, and, on his lady making her appearance, looking as brilliant by her natural charms as by her elegant costume, he pettishly exclaimed, ‘"Fair dame, you are so long making ready, you would be a good messenger to send in search of Death."’ Scarcely had he uttered the fatal word than the lady disappeared, leaving no trace but the print of her little hand above the castle gate. Every Christimas eve, however, she returns and flits about the ruins, with wild lamentations, crying at intervals--‘ "Death! death! death!"’