sometimes received and reflected the beautiful form of the maiden to the great delight of its possessor. As love rooted itself deeper in his heart, his desire to make his feelings known to Mela grew stronger, and he resolved, if possible, to learn the state of her heart towards him.
It was, indeed, much more difficult in those modest times for youths to get introduced to the daughters of a family than at present; and Franz’s forlorn condition added to those difficulties. Notwithstanding this, however, things took their course as well then as now. Christenings, weddings, and burials, especially in a city like Bremen, were the privileged occasions for negotiating love affairs; as the old proverb says, “No marriage takes place but another is planned.” An impoverished spendthrift, however, not being a desirable son, or brother-in-law, our hero was invited neither to weddings, christenings, nor burials. The by-ways of influencing the lady’s-maid, waiting-woman, or some other subordinate personage, was, in Franz’s case, likewise blocked up, for mother Brigitta kept neither one nor the other; she carried on her little trade in lint and yarn herself, and was nearly as inseparable from her daughter as her shadow.
Under such circumstances, it was impossible for Franz to open his heart to his beloved, either by speaking or writing; but he soon invented a language which seems expressly intended for the idiom of lovers. The honour of being the first inventor does not, indeed, belong to our hero; long before his time, the sentimental Celadons of Italy and Spain were in the habit of chanting forth the feelings of their hearts, under the balconies of their donnas. Their melodious pathos, more powerful than the eloquence of Cicero, or Demosthenes, rarely failed in its aim, and not only expressed the lover’s feelings, but was usually successful in exciting in the object of his flame similar warm and tender emotions.
In a doleful hour, therefore, he seized his lute, and calling forth strains that far surpassed his usual powers, in about a month he made such rapid progress, that he might very well have been admitted to play an accompaniment to Amphion. To be sure, his sweetest melodies were at first little noticed, but, ere long, they attracted the admiration of the whole neighbourhood; for, the moment he touched his lute, mothers succeeded in quieting their children, the riotous little urchins ran away from the doors, and, at length, he had the delight of beholding a white hand open the window opposite, when he began to prelude an air. Having so far gained Mela’s ear, he played several happy and triumphant strains, as if to express his joy; but when her mother’s presence or other occupations deprived him of her sight, his sorrow broke forth in mournful tones, expressive of the agony of disappointed affection.
Mela proved an apt pupil, and soon acquired a knowledge of
