Sidonia The Sorceress, vol 1 | Page 8

neighbouring nobles related that he frequently brought in his little daughter Sidonia, whom he adored for her beauty, to the assembled guests, magnificently attired; and when she was bowing to the company, he would say, "Who art thou, my little daughter?" Then she would cease the salutations which she had learned from her mother, and drawing herself up, proudly exclaim, "I am a noble maiden, dowered with towns and castles!" Then he would ask, if the conversation turned upon his enemies--and half the nobles were so--"Sidonia, how does thy father treat his enemies?" Upon which the child would straighten her finger, and running at her father, strike it into his heart, saying, "Thus he treats them." At which Otto would laugh loudly, and tell her to show him how the knave looked when he was dying. Then Sidonia would fall down, twist her face, and writhe her little hands and feet in horrible contortions. Upon which Otto would lift her up, and kiss her upon the mouth. But it will be seen how the just God punished him for all this, and how the words of the Scriptures were fulfilled: "Err not, God is not mocked; for what a man soweth, that shall he also reap."
The parson of Stramehl, David Dilavius, related also to old Uckermann another fact, which, though it hardly seems credible, the bachelor reported thus to me:--
This Dilavius was a learned man whom Otto had selected as instructor to his young daughter; "but only teach her," he said, "to read and write, and the first article of the Ten Commandments. The other Christian doctrines I can teach her myself; besides, I do not wish the child to learn so many dogmas."
Dilavius, who was a worthy, matter-of-fact, good, simple character, did as he was ordered, and gave himself no further trouble until he came to ask the child to recite the first article of the creed out of the catechism for him. There was nothing wrong in that; but when he came to the second article, he crossed himself, not because it concerned the Lord Christ, but her own father, Otto von Bork, and ran somewhat thus:--
"And I believe in my earthly father, Otto von Bork, a distinguished son of God, born of Anna von Kleist, who sitteth in his castle at Stramehl, from whence he will come to help his children and friends, but to slay his enemies and tread them in the dust."
The third article was much in the same style, but he had partly forgotten it, neither could he remember if Dilavius had called the father to any account for his profanity, or taught the daughter some better Christian doctrine. In fine, this was all the old bachelor could tell me of Sidonia's education. Yes--he remembered one anecdote more. Her father had asked her one day, when she was about ten or twelve years old, "What kind of a husband she would like?" and she replied, "One of equal birth." _Ille:_ [Footnote: In dialogue the author makes use of the Latin pronouns, _Ille_, he; _Illa_, she, to denote the different characters taking part in it; and sometimes Hic and _H?c_, for the same purposes. Summa he employs in the sense of "to sum up," or "in short."] "Who is her equal in the whole of Pomerania?" _Illa:_ "Only the Duke of Pomerania, or the Count von Ebersburg." _Ille:_ "Right! therefore she must never marry any other but one of these."
It happened soon after, old Philip Uckermann, his father, riding one day through the fields near Stramehl, saw a country girl seated by the roadside, weeping bitterly. "Why do you weep?" he asked. "Has any one injured you?" "Sidonia has injured me," she replied. "What could she have done? Come dry your tears, and tell me." Whereupon the little girl related that Sidonia, who was then about fourteen, had besought her to tell her what marriage was, because her father was always talking to her about it. The girl had told her to the best of her ability; but the young lady beat her, and said it was not so, that long Dorothy had told her quite differently about marriage, and there she went on tormenting her for several days; but upon this evening Sidonia, with long Dorothy, and some of the milkmaids of the neighbourhood, had taken away one of the fine geese which the peasants had given her in payment of her labour. They picked it alive, all except the head and neck, then built up a large fire in a circle, and put the goose and a vessel of water in the centre. So the fat dripped down from the poor creature alive, and was fried in a pan as it fell, just as the girls eat it on their bread for supper.