Schumanniana: LUIGI II, duca di Baviera

Speranza

ANGER; or, THE ABBEY OF FURSTENFELD.

"Poor creatures, who are oppressed, do not complain too loud; for the lot of the victim is more tolerable than the other lot."—Mademoiselle de Seudery.

Towards the middle of July in the year 1247, there arose suddenly in Brussels a movement which produced an air of festivity in that city.

A tournament was proclaimed; and from an early period the simple announcement of a public festivity has been enough to put the citizens of Brussels in good humour.

The public fountains were being so arranged as to spout forth beer and wine of BRABANTE — for the country then had vines; these fountains were the Regorgeur, the Trois-Pucelles, and the Mannekin—at that time a simple little stone statue.

A stock of leaves was procured to strew in the streets; the house-of-bread was preparing for a plentiful distribution to the poor; all the towers were procuring flags to float from their summits; orchestras were erected before the town-hall, then standing in the herb-market. The Allee Verte, which led from the Groenendal to the chateau of Uccle, was crowded with sight-seers, who were flocking to Brussels, between two rows of shops erected by merchants from other parts, who had obtained that liberty. The place of the Grand-Sablon, which was not paved, was formed into the lists, and active workmen were surrounding it with railings.

A handsome man, dressed in black, wearing a cap adorned with swan's feathers, and showing by his dress that he was not a citizen, but that he was of noble family, on the morning of the tournament came up to an alderman, who was gravely giving instructions for placing the ornaments of the canopy under which the eminent persons of the court were to be sheltered.

"Master," said the stranger, "can you tell me the true causes of all these brilliant preparations?"

The alderman, seeing that his interrogator wore the spurs of a knight, saluted him politely.

"My lord," said he, "you are doubtless not of this duchy, if you do not know that this tournament, which is about to take place, is given by the good Duke of Brabant, and that his gracious daughter will do the honours."

"I am just come from Liege," said the stranger. "I know, indeed, that the tournament is to take place to-day. But is it true that it is only celebrated on account of the crusade, and that those who gain the prizes will have no other reward than to command the gallant troops who are going into Palestine to fight the infidels under the banner of our Lord Jesus Christ?"

As the handsome man uttered these words, he made the sign of the cross.

"One might say more than that," answered the alderman mysteriously, after having also crossed himself. "Is not our princess sixteen years old?"

He accompanied this remark by a wink; which meant to say, that there was certainly some idea of providing her with a husband.

"But I see by your spurs," he continued, "that you are a knight."

"Without doubt, these noble days will not pass without your having well used your lance, and I am one of the judges of the field."
 

The man sighed.

The alderman was about to recommence speaking, when the sound of trumpets announced the duke, his daughter, and his court, who were going to the church of our Lady of the Sand, to hear the mass, when the tournament was to be blessed.

The stranger had no sooner cast eyes on the young MARIA DI BRABANTE, who, brilliant and elegantly dressed, was riding on a trained white palfrey by the side of her father, than he appeared quite beside himself with admiration or surprise; after which he departed with hasty steps.

The alderman shook his head with an air of satisfaction, as if he had guessed that the heart of the young man had been touched; and he applied himself again to his official occupations.

We are obliged in this place to mention some facts, which are necessary for the understanding of what is to follow.
 

Duke Henry II., surnamed the Magnanimous, on account of his courage and beneficence, reigned over Brabant from the year 1235, He was beloved by his people, whose condition he had ameliorated, granting them liberties, suppressing mortmain in his dominions, and giving all his subjects an opportunity for having justice done by them. He established assessors for each bailiff, without whom the bailiff could not judge, who formed a sort of jury. His wisdom was so generally celebrated, that Pope Innocent IV. had recently admitted him into the college of the seven electors, who were shut up in an island in the Rhine, to choose a new emperor instead of Frederick II., whom the Holy See had been obliged to depose.
 

Henry II. married, as his second wife, in 1239, the beautiful and pious Sophia, a Thuringian princess, daughter of S. Elizabeth; but he had had by his first wife several children, viz. Henry the Affable, who was to succeed him, a prince whose gracious surname points out his virtues, and whose wit and gaiety produced songs which are still extant; Matilda, who had been married, in 1237, to Robert d'Artois, brother of S. Louis; and Mary, their young sister, the idol of her father, and queen of the tournament which was about to be held. This princess was so born to be beloved, that her step-mother, Sophia of Thuringia, loved her with as much tenderness as she could have shown to her own daughter. Gentle and beautiful, lovely and gracious, Mary had grown up, living without any vain pride at the court of her father, whose manners and noble affability recalled to men's minds the patriarchs of other days.
 

But, in the said year 1247, MARIA DI BRABANTE reckoned sixteen springs, to speak poetically; her father, who felt himself broken down, though only fifty-eight years old, began to think seriously of choosing for his darling daughter a husband, who might render her happy, in a rank worthy of her birth. Many Christian kings and chiefs were then preparing for a new crusade; Henry the Magnanimous took advantage of this pretext to assemble at his court the princes and nobles, at a brilliant tournament, which he had announced to all his neighbours. There were to be seen among the illustrious knights, who had hastened thither, Lewis II., surnamed the Severe, Count Palatine of the Rhine, and heir to the duchy of Bavaria; Conrad, Duke of Glogau; Rodolph of Hapsburg; William de Dampierre, Count of Flanders, and many other nobles from Belgium, Holland, Friesland, Germany, and France. The eldest son of Arnold V., Count of Loos, who was soon to possess his father's crown, had also come, accompanied by his brother, the young and handsome Godfrey, who had no prospect but the sword.

In fact, the stranger who questioned the alderman of Brussels was no other than Godfrey de Loos. He could not have seen Mary of Brabant, whose captivating graces had been boasted of in his country, without finding her beyond what he had expected, and without feeling sentiments for her which he could not overcome. Nevertheless, reflecting on the rank of Mary, whom he could not merit on any pretence, he had felt a kind of shuddering come over his heart. "At least," said he, encouraging himself a little, "I will fight in her presence; and may I receive from her hands a token of approbation."

As he had merely come to Brussels as his brother's companion, he had had no intention of jousting, but only of seeing the sport, and he had neither arms nor a charger. He went to find an old uncle of his, a canon of S. Gudule, who loved him; he told him of his sudden desire to take part in a tournament, which promised to be so splendid. The good priest, smiling at his ardour, at the secret motive of which he did not attempt to guess, embraced him, and gave him a good horse and handsome arms; then he blessed him, declaring that he wished to see him fight, and that he anticipated enjoying his triumph.

The tournament really was very magnificent; all the princes and knights there displayed their prowess to the best advantage. But during the three days that the passages of arms lasted, Godfrey de Loos always distinguished himself most. Courteous and brave, gallant and bold, he had the suffrages both of the ladies and of the warriors. He was the happiest; for he received the prize bestowed by the young princess, whose trembling hands betrayed some emotion. So that, after the tournament, whilst the old canon was proudly embracing the conqueror, the worthy alderman, who was probably an observant man, gratified him by a sign of intelligent satisfaction. Godfrey, recognizing the benevolent magistrate, only replied by a squeeze of the hand.
 

Godfrey and Mary would have made, as the saying is, a charming couple.

But could Henry II., a sovereign prince, give his daugnter to the younger son of a simple count, who did homage to two superiors?

The illusion which took possession of these young hearts then only caused them trouble.

Besides, a very formidable rival presented himself: LUIGI II, duca di Baviera e conte palatino del Reno, during the festivities which accompanied the tournament, had found an opportunity of conversing with Mary.

Her gentleness and openness of disposition completely inflamed Luigi II with love.

Luigi II spoke to her of union; she answered with embarrassment and with blushes; he thought himself accepted, and immediately demanded her hand of the Duke of Brabant.
 

Henry, who was as good a father as he was a worthy prince, although flattered by so noble an alliance, would promise nothing without consulting his daughter, whose happiness he ardently wished to promote. He had some serious conversation with her.
 

"In this tournament, signalized by so much valour," said he, "you have seen, my dear daughter, many knights."

"Worthy and loyal knights," timidly answered Mary; for, by a sort of instinct, which never fails in girls, she had a presentiment of the object of the questions which her father was about to put to her.

"It is not only for the holy expedition into Palestine that we have assembled them at our capital, my dear child."

"Amongst all these noble lords, do not you think that we could offer you a husband?"
 

The young princess was again agitated, and cast down her eyes without speaking.
 

"I am an old man," continued the duke of Brabante.

 "I shall soon leave you, my dear daughter."

"Before my death, I should wish to give you a support, who might take my place."
 

Mary answered as usual:

"You must not give way to these melancholy reflections, father."

Then she embraced him, checking a sob.

"Well, my dear daughter, you are sixteen years old. My old age will be happier if I see you united to a worthy lord; and, amongst tnose who have distinguished themselves, I have observed indications in your eyes which have made me think that we might choose one."

Mary smiled slightly.
 

"Is it Conrad of Glogau who has succeeded in gaining your affections?" continued the old duke, with the air of a father, who trembles, as he sounds the ground.
 

Mary shook her head, as a sign of denial.
 

Henry mentioned the Lord of Crepy, the Count of Amiens, Rodolph of Hapsburgh, and all the eminent nobles whom he had seen engaged, without finding a marked preference in his daughter's heart for any one of them.
 

At length he pronounced the name of LUIGI II, duca di Baviera e conte-palatino del Reno, looking eagerly and hopefully at her.

But Mary hung down her head.

"So then," said he, "none of these princes has gained your heart?"
 

The princess hesitated a little, and then said:
 

"You have not mentioned, my dear father, all those who have earned glory."
 

The duke, a little surprised, remembered Godfrey de Loos, and, grieved to think that his daughter could nave felt any love for a knight without name or estates, he remained silent. The youth of Mary, and the unlikeliness that love a day old should be very deeply rooted, reassured him. He congratulated himself on having known the sentiments of his daughter soon enough to combat them. But, feeling that this was not the time to lead her to the altar, he put off her marriage till the next year, and spoke in the most encouraging manner to Lewis of Bavaria, who returned to his father's states full of enthusiasm and of hope.
 

Wishing to check at once a passion which he could not approve, the Duke of Brabant, whom Luigi II had invited to take part in the new crusade, sent many nobles from his dominions into Palestine, under the command of his ally the Duke of Limburg; and he requested, in pressing and formal terms, that the young Godfrey de Loos should go with them, giving him an honourable command.

If one voice advised Godfrey to remain near Mary, honour, glory, the necessity of making a name, the hope of making himself worthy to obtain her hand, by gaining the esteem of her father by his brilliant exploits, obliged him to take the cross. But, before embarking, he obtained a moment's interview with the good Helice, Mary's bedchamber woman.

He timidly declared to her the secret of his heart, and the vow which he had taken, of serving no one but the princess. Helice was much agitated, and hurried him away. After these dangerous confidential communications, Godfrey de Loos departed for the Holy Land, adorned with the green scarf which Mary had given him at the tournament.

After Godfrey's departure, Duke Henry II. sought to divert his daughter by new festivities, as her young heart thought of the gallant knight.

 

Luigi II, duca di Baviera e conte-palatino del Reno, during the interval, wrote the most ardent letters to Maria di Brabante.

This prince was brave, equitable, beloved in his father's dominions, and was not called the "severo" (or "forte") till later in life, on account of his violent and inflexible justice.

He was handsome, well educated, and made for conquest.

He was so full of Mary, that he did not content himself with sending her messages, but returned to Brussels, and there renewed his courtship in so amiable and delicate a manner, that every one pleaded to her on his behalf.

Mary, thus invested, and the old duke daily entreating her to render him happy by so honourable an alliance, what with the anxious desires of her father, and what with the wishes of all who surrounded her, remained defenceless.

She sacrificed her secret hopes of a marriage with Godfrey.

She followed the Bavarian prince to the altar, praying of God and the Holy Virgin to purify her heart.

Luigi II, who adored her, and who had no suspicion of the existence of any other attachment, felt himself at the height of happiness.

Luigi II married Mary in the beginning of the year 1248, and took her to MONACO, where she was blessed, and where the memory of her piety and gentleness has ever been preserved.

 

The crusaders reaped laurels in Palestine.

Godfrey de Loos, who had been separated from his mistress for six years, had remained faithful to her.

Covered with glory and honour, he was beginning to think himself worthy of Mary, and to sigh for a return, when, in 1253, Lewis IX., having been informed of the death of his mother, Blanche of Castile, determined to return to France. Godfrey accompanied him; he saw again European land with pleasure, and hastened to Brussels.

No news had reached him of the changes which had taken place in that court. Henry II. was dead; he found the sceptre in the hands of Henry the Affable; but his sister was no longer with him.

The grief of Godfrey was great when he learnt that the princess was married to Luigi II., then the reigning Duke of Bavaria.

For a moment he was inclined to accuse Mary of ambition and falsehood.

But what had she promised him?

He repulsed this sentiment; he preferred believing that she had yielded to her father and to duty.

After giving up some days to despair, resolving to see Mary again, by whom he thought himself beloved, he set off for Bavaria, cursing his unlucky stars, which had saved him, in the perils of a hundred battles, from the death which he would now fain encounter.

Luigi II, proud of his birth, son of the Count Palatine del Reno, Otho II., who had refused the empire in 1228, was far from suspecting that he had, as a rival, a simple knight without land or title.

He was therefore pleased to see Godfrey de Loos again, showed him the honours which his reputation for bravery deserved, and retained him at his court.

Godfrey the very next day appeared before Mary, the duchess, who was going to mass to the church of our Lady in Monaco.

At the sight of the gallant warrior, whom she had not forgotten, Mary was so agitated, that the crusader perceived that he was as dear as ever, without being able to say whether the feelings he experienced gave him pleasure or pain.

An honest heart does not parley with duty.

The remembrance of Godfrey had been almost obliterated from the thoughts of the princess.

But his presence brought it vividly back.

She was acquainted with her husband's disposition.

She remarked his defects from that time.

The transports of Luigi II di Baviera henceforth appeared to her nothing more than consistent with his severities and violence.

She would have gone wrong, had she not been a Christian; but her piety sustained her.

The approach of one of the solemnities of the church instructed her still farther, by obliging her to a serious examination of her conscience.

She shuddered at the thought of a guilty affection, which returned in all its strength after six years of separation, and five years of marriage; and, in a happy moment, she would have confided all to her husband, had she not feared his terrible resentment.

But she firmly resolved to avoid Godfrey.

He begged an interview, she refused it, and ordered Helice to announce to him an eternal separation, though the word was painful.

Helice found him so much affected, that she had not the strength to deliver all her message.

During the next few days, on many occasions, the praises of Godfrey, and of the courage that he had displayed in Palestine, were celebrated.

Mary could not always conceal the charms that these eulogiums had for her.

Luigi II, jealous and suspicious, remarked this circumstance.

He remembered that the princess had seen the knight at her father's court.

He fancied that he observed some looks of Godfrey which offended him, and he suddenly ordered him to quit his dominions.

Godfrey, during his exile, by means of the compassionate and weak Helice, maintained the hope of being able to make his sufferings known to the princess.

He wrote to her.

Two months afterwards, one day when the duchess had remained at Donauwerth, during a voyage which Luigi II of Bavaria had undertaken down the Reno, she received a gloomy letter from Godfrey, begging of her, as the only pledge of so constant and unfortunate an attachment, a moment's interview, the happiness of seeing her again for an instant before he died, he said.

Another letter came just at the same time.

It was from her husband, Luigi II, who required an immediate answer about some affairs of state.

Mary, therefore, wrote two letters.

She wrote one letter to her husband, the other to Godfrey.

She remonstrated with the latter for cherishing such a hopeles passion, and begged him to forget it.

Mary had no other confidante than Helice.

Notwithstanding the innocence of her letter, she did not know to whom to intrust it, and was afraid to send an express.

It seemed to her a favourable opportunity for sending it now, that she had to despatch a letter to Luigi II di Baviera.

She chose for this mission the good and faithful Ghislein, son of her nurse, whom she had brought from Brussels, and who was devoted to her most heartily, but who could not read.

She gave him the TWO letters, bidding him take particular notice that the one sealed with RED wax was for Luigi II, duca di Baviera, and that sealed with BLACK wax for Godfrey de Loos.

Ghislein promised to attend to this.

But, by an inexplicable fatality, say the historians, it was the first thing which the messenger forgot.

The messenger presented himself immediately to Luigi II, duca di Baviera, and gave him the letter sealed with BLACK wax.

It is not known what was said in it.

But Luigi II, duca di Baviera, had no sooner read it, than, in a transport of blind rage, he fell on the messenger, and slew him with his own hand.

After this Luigi II mounted his horse.

Luigi II's jealousy poisoned every word of the letter.

He believed himself to be the victim of a long course of treachery.

He hastened to Donauwerth, accompanied by an executioner and some soldiers, and, still furious, he met the governor of the palace in the court, ran his sword through his heart, threw the princess's house-keeper from the top of a tower, where she had taken refuge, stabbed Helice with his own hand, and, appearing before his wife like an implacable spectre, brandishing the letter with the black seal, he announced to her that she must die.

It was in vain that Maria di Brabante, terrified, fell on her knees, and called heaven to bear witness to her innocence.

Luigi II cast her into a dungeon, whither the executioner, whom he had brought, followed her, to cut off her head.

This horrible day was January 18, 1256.

 

The evening of this frightful day, Lewis the Severe, on going to bed, having at last become more calm, began to feel, by little and little, that perhaps he had rendered himself the most wretched of men.

He had slaughtered an angel whom he adored.

He asked himself if it was not possible that Mary might not have betrayed him.

He read her letter again; and with horror he saw that every expression was virtuous.

Soon he felt quite bewildered.

The image of her whom he had murdered seemed attached to his side.

He did not close his eyes till the night was far advanced ; and, while he was thus overcome, the bleeding shade of Mary appeared to him, declaring that she had perished pure and spotless.

Lewis awoke with a start, and cried out in despair.

The next day he gave honourable burial to the remains of Mary.

Accurate information, unexplained revelations, surprising apparitions, confirmed her innocence.

Luigi II of Bavaria thought that he could not otherwise expiate his criminal resentment than by submitting to the sentence of the Church.

But the prelates of his court, astonished at all which was said, dared not absolve him; and he was obliged to beg for the commiseration of the sovereign pontiff, Alessandro IV.

The Holy See obliged him, by way of reparation for his crime, to found an expiatory chapel over the tomb of Mary, with a monastery for twelve religious of the order of S. Bruno.
 

There were not yet any religious of that order in Bavaria.

Luigi II summoned some monks from France, and built for them the magnificent abbey of Furstenfeld.

A splendid tomb was erected in the conventual church to the victim; and as she appeared sometimes clothed in white, the hope was announced that she was received among the blessed, which somewhat calmed the murmurs of the people, who lamented her.

Meanwhile, Godfrey, who, on the other side of the Rhine, was waiting with great anxiety for an answer to his letter, and who was being made gloomy by sad forebodings, had soon come to learn, that, in affairs of the heart, there are grave and serious conjunctures when presages do not deceive.

The terrible death of Mary, and the frightful tragedy of Donauwerth, had been announced to him without any preparation, for no one knew that they were hurting his feelings; he had fallen ill, and he was successively informed of the apparitions of Mary, of her innocence being proclaimed, of the intervention of the sovereign pontiff, on the remorse of the murderer.
 

After three months of suffering and delirium, Godfrey arose, pale, emaciated, and distracted. Although he was extremely weak, his anger giving him energy, he put on his good armour without delay; he mounted his horse, and, notwithstanding his prohibition, re-entered Bavaria.

He wished to present himself before Luigi II., to challenge him to mortal combat, and to kill him.

One evening, when he had stopped at the door of an humble village church, some leagues from Monaco, where Luigi II. had taken refuge, whilst the warrior was rejoicing in the thought, that in a few days he might avenge Mary, or join her if he fell, he was awakened from his reflections by the tumultuous noise of a cavalcade, which was galloping back to Munich.

It was Luigi II., wan, mournful, and grave, who was passing rapidly, with some courtiers as gloomy as himself.

Godfrey started up briskly, and ran to his horse; he was just Eutting his foot in the stirrup, when a loud cry from .ewis of Bavaria made him turn his head. He saw the unhappy prince, who, with a distracted air, lowered his lance towards the steps of the little church; after which, he fled with all the signs of despair.

It was the ghost of Mary, which had again appeared.

She was at the church door, clothed in white. Godfrey, on seeing her, felt his knees bend under him.

She spoke to him in a gentle voice, ordering him not to seek to approach her, nor to follow her; to respect the life of Luigi II., and not to re-appear at the court of Bavaria, where his presence would give rise to new crimes.
 

Having said these words, she sighed, and disappeared into the sacred edifice, the door of which immediately shut.
 

It was the dead of night; but the young man was still in the same place, absorbed in meditations and doubts, which he could not enlighten. He resolved to wait there till day. The morning's air a little refreshed his troubled spirits. In his distraction, he pronounced before the cross the rash oath never to love any more, but to devote himself to the remembrance of Mary. "I will wait," said he, "for that better world, where I shall see her again."
 

An old priest, who served the church, whither the shade had seemed to retire, then came up and opened the doors. Godfrey entered, to hear the holy mass. He went in an agitated manner round the church, without discovering anything, either on the pavement or on the bare walls, which could give him any clue. After mass, he asked the good clergyman.

He could tell him nothing of Mary of Brabant, except that a monument was erected to her memory at Furstenfeld, in Upper Bavaria, and that an abbey was being built there, where twelve Carthusians, guardians of the remains of the duchess, were to pray perpetually for the expiation of her death.

The abbot who was to govern Furstenfeld was already at Mary's tomb, with some monks. Godfrey was silent about the apparition, which had so astonished him; but his mind was made up.

He sold his armour and his charger, and went to Furstenfeld, where he requested the abbot to receive him as a novice.

The venerable father in vain represented to him for some time the rigorousness of the order of S. Bruno; but, seeing that nothing could cool the zeal of Godfrey, he accepted him, and gave him the habit of a novice.

 

During the noviciate of Godfrey, which, as usual, was to last for a year, the Duke of Bavaria occupied himself with travelling, hoping thereby to divert his mind.

He succeeded in doing so, after some months of desultory excursions amongst the different courts of Germany.

Soon after, at a tournament, in which he took part valiantly, he saw Anne of Glogau ; and that lively and brilliant lady suddenly lighted a new flame within him, which diverted him from his remorse.

Luigi II was handsome.

His history, his crime, his resentment, and his violence, had made him a hero in the eyes of the romantic Germans; and there are still some women who are taken by men of ardent passions, without foreseeing the frightful sufferings which they will experience, and who regard as proofs of love those excesses of jealousy which are only the proofs of an insulting mistrust.

And then Lewis II. was powerful.

Anne of Glogau did not repulse him; the day for the marriage was soon fixed, but without fuss or disturbance, on account of the recentness of a tragedy which had made so much noise.

Lewis II. desired this also.

 

At the very time that these nuptials were the subject of discussion, Godfrey de Loos, entirely detached from the world, was preparing to pronounce the eternal vows, and to receive the habit of S. Bruno.

Every morning and every evening he went to pray and weep at the tomb of Mary; and the good abbot, to whom he had confided his sad secret at the holy tribunal, deeply pitied him. He regarded him as an unfortunate man, whose head was disordered by an unfortunate love affair. Often had the young novice, pale and confused, told the venerable father that the shade of Mary had appeared to Mm, but without speaking, and that she had gone away sighing mournfully.

"These are deceptions, my son," said the pious abbot.
 

But Godfrey could not help believing that his visions were real.
 

The evening before the day when he was to renounce the things of this world, and to bind himself by vows which he could never break, a little before midnight, Godfrey de Loos was alone in his cell, praying, enlightened by a little feeble lamp, which burned before an image of the Holy Virgin; he thought that he saw at some distance the white phantom of Mary; he fancied that she spoke to him, and said, with a sad and slow voice, "Consider, Godfrey, you may yet re-enter the world, and find there attractions and honours, and forget such cruel reminiscences; think of this: in this place your life is a continual death, and to-morrow you will no longer be free."
 

He imagined that the shade had groaned at these words; he answered stammeringly; and, much agitated, was on the point of rising to advance towards the phantom, when the abbey-bell summoned the monks to matins.

The vision vanished. Godfrey, pronouncing the last vows firmly, abjured the world, and took the Carthusian habit, in which he promised to die.

 

A month afterwards, the marriage of Luigi II Il severo with Anne of Glogau was publicly declared. The monk was quite astonished. "So," said he, "this ardent man does not remain faithful to her memory."
 

But as, giving way to these thoughts, he was walking in a small wood belonging to the monastery, Mary of Brabant met him. This time it was no longer a shade; it was Mary herself, alive and trembling.
 

"I have just heard of the marriage of the Duke of Bavaria," said she; "does his new engagement make me free? I do not know; but I am alive, and, wretched woman that I am, I was afraid to tell you; and I have allowed you to take vows which have become indissoluble."
 

"Living! What, you, Mary! What say you? O great God!" exclaimed the monk.
 

He advanced to take her hand; the dreaded thought of his religious duties held him back.

"Yes," replied she; "the executioner, less cruel than my husband, gave me my life, on condition that I would never appear in the presence of Luigi II."
 

The heart of Godfrey was affected at once by surprise, joy, and bitter grief. Hardly daring to believe that he had again found her, whom he had so much lamented,— terrified by his vows, which ordered him to flee from her, he was beside himself for a moment. He fell prostrate on the ground, weeping and sobbing; and when ne arose, he broke the mournful silence, saying,

"I will go and find the holy abbot, who has healed my wounds, and wept over my griefs. O, noble princess, come also and throw yourself at his knees, and implore his pity!"

Mary, overcome by the grief of Godfrey, followed him, trembling. They found the venerable abbot, alone, kneeling before the tomb of Mary of Brabant.

At the sight of the duchess, he started back, with a sort of instinctive terror.

"Sacred shade," said he, "is it true that God allows you to appear to me!"

But Godfrey and Mary, in the midst of their tears, explained to him how it was that the princess was alive. They begged of him, as a minister of God, to be their guide and support.
 

The abbot of Furstenfeld remained for some time in painful consideration. He, too, had wept, and appeared to pray to God to enlighten him.

"There are ties which no man can break," at last he said. "The sovereign pontiff, the vicar of our Lord Jesus Christ, is alone able, on earth, if he judges it to be right, to release you, my dear son, from the eternal vows which you have taken. But he cannot, unhappy lady, separate those whom God has united; he cannot deliver you from the bonds which, notwithstanding the new marriage of the guilty Lewis, unite you with him for ever. But go to Rome, my daughter. All that my weakness can do here is to advise you, and to keep your fatal secrets. Go—clothed in the nabit of S. Bruno, you will not be known, and you will be respected on the road. Never forget that you cannot be happy, even in this world, if you wander from the path which leads to the next."

Then he blessed her; and Godfrey saw her depart, concealing her grief. She went on foot, praying and fasting, neither neglecting the churches, nor the chapels, nor the stations, nor the acts of penitence, which might propitiate the mercy of God.

Alexander IV. still occupied the Holy See, a good and pious pontiff, accessible to gentle feelings; he received Mary of Brabant with paternal benevolence, listened to the pathetic account of her tragical history, and showed her the most tender interest. But, if he could release Godfrey from his vows, he also informed her that death alone could break the bonds which united her to Lewis of Bavaria. He showed to her, in her misfortunes, the punishment of a passion which she ought not to have cherished. He induced her to retire to France, under the protection of S. Lewis, and to live there in expectation of a world, where the heart would no longer be bruised.

Godfrey, remaining at Furstenfeld, and only wishing to be free if Mary was so too, heard no more of her.

The abbey where he prayed was completed magnificently in 1266.
 

Luigi II., in the year 1273, married, as his third wife, Matilda, daughter of Rodolph of Hapsburgh, whom he had just named king of the Romans.

He died in 1294 and was buried in the abbey of Furstenfeld.
 

On the 29th of March, 1302, after a long course of penitence in that place of austerity, Godfrey died holily amongst ashes.

The same day, by a singular coincidence, on the banks of the Marne, on the borders of the wood of Vincennes, in a little house of the parish of S. Maurice, afterwards comprised in that convent of Valdones, of which only one turret now remains, the nuns closed the eyes of a pious woman, who died in the habit of S. Bruno — it was Mary of Brabant.