Otto of the Silver Hand by Howard Pyle (best e reader for academics .TXT) 📖

Little Otto looked up in the kind, rugged face above him. “Nay, Lord Emperor,” said he, in his quaint, quiet way, “there are but two in the family—the mother and the daughter—and I have promised to marry the little girl when she and I are old enough; so, if you please, I would not have harm happen to her.”

The Emperor continued to look down at the kneeling boy, and at last he gave a short, dry laugh. “So be it,” said he, “thy plan is not without its wisdom. Mayhap it is all for the best that the affair should be ended thus peacefully. The estates of the Roderburgs shall be held in trust for thee until thou art come of age; otherwise it shall be as thou hast proposed, the little maiden shall be taken into ward under our own care. And as to thee—art thou willing that I should take thee under my own charge in the room of thy father, who is dead?”

“Aye,” said Otto, simply, “I am willing, for it seems to me that thou art a good man.”

The nobles who stood near smiled at the boy’s speech. As for the Emperor, he laughed outright. “I give thee thanks, my Lord Baron,” said he; “there is no one in all my court who has paid me greater courtesy than that.”

So comes the end of our tale.

But perhaps you may like to know what happened afterward, for no one cares to leave the thread of a story without tying a knot in it.

Eight years had passed, and Otto grew up to manhood in the Emperor’s court, and was with him through war and peace.

But he himself never drew sword or struck a blow, for the right hand that hung at his side was of pure silver, and the hard, cold fingers never closed. Folks called him “Otto of the Silver Hand,” but perhaps there was another reason than that for the name that had been given him, for the pure, simple wisdom that the old monks of the White Cross on the hill had taught him, clung to him through all the honors that the Emperor bestowed upon his favorite, and as he grew older his words were listened to and weighed by those who were high in Council, and even by the Emperor himself.

And now for the end of all.

One day Otto stood uncertainly at the doorway of a room in the imperial castle, hesitating before he entered; and yet there was nothing so very dreadful within, only one poor girl whose heart fluttered more than his. Poor little Pauline, whom he had not seen since that last day in the black cell at Trutz-Drachen.

At last he pushed aside the hangings and entered the room.

She was sitting upon a rude bench beside the window, looking at him out of her great, dark eyes.

He stopped short and stood for a moment confused and silent; for he had no thought in his mind but of the little girl whom he had last seen, and for a moment he stood confused before the fair maiden with her great, beautiful dark eyes.

She on her part beheld a tall, slender youth with curling, golden hair, one hand white and delicate, the other of pure and shining silver.

He came to her and took her hand and set it to his lips, and all that she could do was to gaze with her great, dark eyes upon the hero of whom she had heard so many talk; the favorite of the Emperor; the wise young Otto of the Silver Hand.