Farina | Page 3

Margarita's feet offering
them in return.
'Wilt thou?' said Margarita, with softer stress, and slight excess of
bloom in her cheeks.
Farina put the purple cluster to his breast, and clutched them hard on
his heart, still kneeling.
Margarita's brow and bosom seemed to be reflections of the streaming
crimson there. She shook her face to the sky, and affected laughter at
the symbol. Her companions clapped hands. Farina's eyes yearned to
her once, and then he rose and joined in the pleasantry.

Fury helped Dietrich to forget his awkwardness. He touched Farina on
the shoulder with two fingers, and muttered huskily: 'The Club never
allow that.'
Farina bowed, as to thank him deeply for the rules of the Club. 'I am
not a member, you know,' said he, and strolled to a seat close by
Margarita.
Dietrich glared after him. As head of a Club he understood the use of
symbols. He had lost a splendid opportunity, and Farina had seized it.
Farina had robbed him.
'May I speak with Mistress Margarita?' inquired the White Rose chief,
in a ragged voice.
'Surely, Dietrich! do speak,' said Margarita.
'Alone?' he continued.
'Is that allowed by the Club?' said one of the young girls, with a saucy
glance.
Dietrich deigned no reply, but awaited Margarita's decision. She
hesitated a second; then stood up her full height before him; faced him
steadily, and beckoned him some steps up the vine-path. Dietrich
bowed, and passing Farina, informed him that the Club would wring
satisfaction out of him for the insult.
Farina laughed, but answered, 'Look, you of the Club! beer-swilling has
improved your manners as much as fighting has beautified your faces.
Go on; drink and fight! but remember that the Kaiser's coming, and
fellows with him who will not be bullied.'
'What mean you?' cried Dietrich, lurching round on his enemy.
'Not so loud, friend,' returned Farina. 'Or do you wish to frighten the
maidens? I mean this, that the Club had better give as little offence as
possible, and keep their eyes as wide as they can, if they want to be of
service to Mistress Margarita.'
Dietrich turned off with a grunt.
'Now!' said Margarita.
She was tapping her foot. Dietrich grew unfaithful to the Club, and
looked at her longer than his mission warranted. She was bright as the
sunset gardens of the Golden Apples. The braids of her yellow hair
were bound in wreaths, and on one side of her head a saffron crocus
was stuck with the bell downward. Sweetness, song, and wit hung like
dews of morning on her grape-stained lips. She wore a scarlet corset

with bands of black velvet across her shoulders. The girlish gown was
thin blue stuff, and fell short over her firm-set feet, neatly cased in
white leather with buckles. There was witness in her limbs and the way
she carried her neck of an amiable, but capable, dragon, ready, when
aroused, to bristle up and guard the Golden Apples against all save the
rightful claimant. Yet her nether lip and little white chin-ball had a
dreamy droop; her frank blue eyes went straight into the speaker: the
dragon slept. It was a dangerous charm. 'For,' says the minnesinger,
'what ornament more enchants us on a young beauty than the soft
slumber of a strength never yet called forth, and that herself knows not
of! It sings double things to the heart of knighthood; lures, and warns
us; woos, and threatens. 'Tis as nature, shining peace, yet the mother of
storm.'
'There is no man,' rapturously exclaims Heinrich von der Jungferweide,
'can resist the desire to win a sweet treasure before which lies a dragon
sleeping. The very danger prattles promise.'
But the dragon must really sleep, as with Margarita.
'A sham dragon, shamming sleep, has destroyed more virgins than all
the heathen emperors,' says old Hans Aepfelmann of Duesseldorf.
Margarita's foot was tapping quicker.
'Speak, Dietrich!' she said.
Dietrich declared to the Club that at this point he muttered, 'We love
you.' Margarita was glad to believe he had not spoken of himself. He
then informed her of the fears entertained by the Club, sworn to watch
over and protect her, regarding Farina's arts.
'And what fear you?' said Margarita.
'We fear, sweet mistress, he may be in league with Sathanas,' replied
Dietrich.
'Truly, then,' said Margarita, 'of all the youths in Cologne he is the least
like his confederate.'
Dietrich gulped and winked, like a patient recovering wry-faced from
an abhorred potion.
'We have warned you, Fraulein Groschen!' he exclaimed. 'It now
becomes our duty to see that you are not snared.'
Margarita reddened, and returned: 'You are kind. But I am a Christian
maiden and not a Pagan soldan, and I do not require a body of tawny
guards at