We now held a council of war, at which I delivered my report. I knew

from experience that, to gain credence for a lie, one must invest it

with a modicum of truth. Therefore, I described, without deviating one

iota from the truth, the treasures I had seen, and even added to

them--as, for instance: I said there were barrels filled with gold and

silver, which made the robbers' mouths water. Nyedzviedz was full of

ambitious plans. He intended, so soon as he got money enough, to

combine under his leadership all the predatory bands in the Carpathian

region, and with them invade and plunder the wealthy Galician cities,

castles, and monasteries. He felt confident that the common people

would be glad to aid in plundering the prelates and nobles.

I described the fortifications of Berdiczov monastery as almost

impregnable, when the truth was, that I could, with the culverin, have

battered down the walls the first day while the rusty old mortars

would do little damage among the beleaguerers. I ascribed to the prior

the strategic talents of a field-marshall. My description of the moat,

with the formidable palisades concealed under the water, quite

discouraged the robbers from the plan they had made to swim across it,

and storm the walls.

Indeed, I told such astounding tales about the powder mines under the

walls and moat, that their confidence in me became absolute when I

sketched my plan of assault. I proposed to batter the fortifications

in such a manner, that the _debris_ would fall into and fill up the

moat, which would enable us to cross it without injury, and enter

through the breaches I had made in the walls. I won the leader's favor

and approval to such an extent that he committed the entire conduct of

the important expedition into my hands.

At the conclusion of the council, I asked as a special favor to be

allowed to spend a day with my beloved Madus before we set out on the

expedition.

Nyedzviedz at first was unwilling to consent. "I know," he said, "just

how women-folk are. It is best for a soldier to have nothing to do

with them. Their tears are sure to melt a soft heart."

But I persisted in my request, and at last received permission to

visit the Viszpa Ogrod.

It was a beautiful autumn afternoon when I descended the steep path to

the secluded valley. While yet some distance from our little cottage,

I heard my Madus singing sweetly--I can hear her now, and see her as

she came joyfully to meet me.

How happy she was!

The poor child believed I had come to stop, and as I did not want to

cloud her joy, I put off until the moment of my departure, telling her

that I was again to accompany her father on a distant expedition.

One day at least I would spend happily. So, I let my Madus tell me all

that had happened in the valley during my absence; I heard also how

much dried fruit, how many smoked trout, how many cheeses, she had in

store for the winter; how many yards of beautiful linen she had woven

from the flax she had cultivated with her own hands.

Last of all, she exhibited, with blushing cheeks, her little

treasures: cunning little caps, and jackets, at sight of which my

heart leapt for joy in my bosom. She confided to me in a whisper that,

when Christmas should arrive, her Bethlehem crib would have received

its occupant.

Oh, how gladly would I have remained with her! But it could not be. I

had more ambitious plans for her. I was bent on escaping with her to

the great world, where she should--as she deserved--become a fine

lady.

After she had told me everything about herself, she asked me to relate

what I had done while absent. When I told her how successful the

expedition had proved, I found that the Madus who tended her doves

and made cheeses in the Viszpa Ogrod, was vastly different from the

Madus who had once accompanied the haidemaken expeditions. She grew

pale with horror when I described the slaughter of the caravan; and

the occurrence which resulted in my becoming the inheritor of the old

Turk's crutch, and a lame leg. She became more composed, however, when

I told her about the marvelous cure at the healing spring; and quite

recovered her composure when I gave her the image of the Holy Virgin

the prior had sent her. Ah me! that image was her death, as well as

her salvation.

The next morning I told her I had to leave her again. She sought with

tears and caresses to dissuade me from going. She clasped her arms

around my neck, then flung herself at my feet, and clasped my

knees--she seemed unable to control her wild despair.

I have often thought since that the poor child had a presentiment she

would never again behold me in this life.

I sought in vain to comfort her; in vain I assured her that I would

never leave her again after I returned from this expedition, from

which I hoped to secure what would enable me to establish a home for

her in some large city. She was inconsolable.

She accompanied me to the entrance to the rock-corridor, and would

have gone clear to the cavern, had not her father met us just as we

were entering the passage. He frightened her by saying it would be

unsafe to venture among the haidemaken in her condition, as all

robbers entertained the superstitious belief that the fourth finger

from the hand of an unborn babe rendered the possessor invulnerable to

bullet and sword.

Nyedzviedz would not even allow a last embrace, but thrust us roughly

apart; and forced me to precede him into the corridor. I kept looking

back from time to time, so long as the entrance remained in sight. My

Madus stood, looking after me, in the circular opening of the rocky

wall; she seemed like a saint encompassed by a halo of light, and as

the corridor grew darker and more gloomy the radiant image at my back

increased in brilliance until a sudden turn hid the beautiful vision

from my sight.

That same evening we set out for Berdiczov--four-hundred haidemaken,

with the culverin.

CHRISTMAS.

It was early Autumn when we began the siege, which I conducted in so

skillful--from my point of view!--a manner, that December found us

still outside the walls of the monastery. Three times I changed the

position of our assaulting forces; but took good care every time to

select a point far enough from the walls to prevent our shots from

damaging them to any considerable extent.

Nyedzviedz kept urging me to a nearer approach: he said we were so

distant, that the cannon-balls from the fortifications had to roll

over the ground to reach our lines. So, one day, after he had examined

the ground, and discovered what he believed to be a more advantageous

position, I was forced, in order not to rouse his suspicions, to

comply with his request. While superintending the throwing up of

intrenchments the first night I managed to secrete under the

earth-works a keg of powder, and in the morning I told the leader that

extreme caution would be necessary, now that we were so much nearer to

the fortifications, as the monks were having powder-mines laid under

our breast-works. I had heard peculiar noises during the night, I told

him, and, suspecting what was being done, I had scattered a few peas

on the head of a drum standing on the ground. The lively dancing of

the peas had convinced me that my suspicions were correct.

But the leader was incredulous. He decided to take observations for

himself; and would spend the following night in the trenches, when he

could also watch the result of our bombardment. This would make it

impossible for me to carry out my plans for exploding the keg of

powder hidden in the breast-works. But, I was not to be outdone. I

happened to remember an expedient I had once employed with success,

and resorted to it again: I drew the fuse through a long reed, one end

of which I thrust into the keg.

I had to be very cautious; for Nyedzviedz had a nose that could smell

a match cord at long range; but with the fuse inside the reed, I could

prevent the fumes from getting into the range of his olfactor.

The powder exploded at the right moment, just when the leader was

bending eagerly over the breast-work to peer after a bomb. After the

smoke and dust cleared away, I drew him from under the heap of earth,

from which only his legs protruded. He had not been injured in the

least, but all desire to assault the enemy at so close a range had

fled, and I was allowed to return to our former position, on the brow

of a hill, a considerable distance farther from the fortifications.

I consoled the dissatisfied haidemaken with the assurance that, when

the real cold weather of winter should set in, the moat would freeze

over; then it would be an easy matter to storm the walls at close

range. I did not think it necessary to tell them that the warm spring

would prevent the water in the moat from freezing. In the meantime

came Christmas--an anxiously longed-for day in many respects. With the

dawn of Christmas morning came a furious snow-storm, the north wind

flinging down on us such masses of flakes that it was impossible to

see ten steps away.

It was just the sort of weather I had calculated on. The bombardment

had to cease, as the monastery was completely hidden from view behind

the veil of snow. The haidemaken retired to their tents, and amused

themselves, gaming with dice and cards, for what stakes do you

imagine? They had no money, remember! Why, the winner paid, and the

loser received, a box on the ear! I hadn't any fondness for the game

myself; but my comrades seemed to enjoy it hugely.

While gaming, drinking, cursing, were going on in the other tents, I

sat in my own, alone, and silent, pondering over my past years. I

recalled the different anniversaries of the blessed day, beginning

with the first I could remember when, held in my mother's arms, I

removed from the Christmas-tree my first ginger-bread doll, which I

was loath to eat because of its beautiful golden hue.

Then, my thoughts turned to the humble cot in the Viszpa Ogrod; and I

wondered, with a strange trembling in my bosom, if the little

Bethlehem crib, my Madus had prepared for the reception of a precious

occupant, now held its treasure.

The monastery bells were ringing for the Christmas service; on the

bastion a long procession of monks with innumerable lamps was moving

toward the chapel.

The wind was driving the clouds across the sky, and hundreds of

witch-forms rioted above the camp, in the faint light which came from

a mist-veiled moon.

The snow-fall had ceased; only the wind, which was scattering the

storm-clouds, still swept with unabated vigor across the plain,

packing the fine snow more compactly together.

Suddenly, amid the noise of carousing and shouting which came from the

neighboring tents, I heard a sound that made me drop quickly to my

knees, and lay my ear close to the ground. At last! At last! They were

coming! I could hear distinctly the hoof-beats, when they crossed the

rocky road from which the wind had swept the snow. Then, the sound

ceased--they were come to the plain where the snow muffled the noise

of the hoofs. Duke Visznovieczky's dragoons were approaching at a

brisk trot to the assistance of Berdiczov monastery.

I did not wait for them to come up. In the dark all cows are black! I

said to myself: "It will be useless to try to convince the dragoon

who raises his sword against me that I am this one, and not the other

one!" So I wrapped myself in my mantle, slipped from the tent, and ran

fleetly toward the monastery.

When I paused to look back, after the relief troop had begun the

attack on the robber camp, I saw the witch-dance I had seen earlier,

it had descended to the earth, and with it was joined a tumult of

demons; of black forms, and white, darting hither and thither; of

furious sword cuts; frenzied cries; mad flight, and swift pursuit!

The early morning assault was successful. The dragoons routed the

haidemaken without a shot. What became of my comrades I cannot say,

for I continued on my way to the monastery, where I shouted myself

hoarse before the draw-bridge was lowered to admit me.

Early mass had just been concluded. The monks with their tall

candlesticks, chanting a psalm of praise, led the procession returning

from the chapel; the cripples hobbling in the rear, hummed the

antiphony. But, hei! didn't the devout company break ranks quickly

when I appeared before them with the announcement:

"Duke Visznovieczky's dragoons are come, and have attacked the

haidemaken camp!"

The psalm-singing ceased at once; and, instead, everybody was

shouting: "To arms! To arms!"

Even the canopy-bearers left the prior in the middle of the

court-yard, and ran to fetch their arms; while the cripples hopped

about on one leg and brandished their crutches and staves.

By this time we could see that the beleaguerers were fleeing before

the dragoons in every direction. The valiant burgers who, at the

beginning of the siege, had taken refuge in the monastery, could now

no longer repress their heroic feelings. Seizing whatever would serve

as a weapon, the brave fellows dashed across the draw-bridge and sped

toward the field of battle; the reverend fathers followed at a more

dignified pace; the cripples brought up the rear, and assisted the

worthy burgers to complete the work of destruction begun by the

dragoons, by cutting off the feet of those haidemaken who had already

been decapitated.

Whether Nyedzviedz had succeeded in escaping the fate of many of his

comrades, I could not learn then; nor did I care! I was too thankful

that I had been spared from destruction and delivered from the clutch

of the robber-band. Therewith ended my career as a haidemak.

The prisoner here paused in his confession, feeling that he, as well

as the court, needed a rest.

"I am inclined to believe," observed the prince, "that the accused

rehabilitated himself through his valiant act. So much as he sinned,

so much he made good! He was healed by a miracle of God; therefore, it

behooves us earthly judges to consider well before we pass sentence

where the Heavenly Judge granted absolution."

To this the chair, with obvious irritation, made reply: "If your

highness intends to permit this malefactor to extenuate, in a like

manner, all the rest of his misdeeds, when he gets to the end of the

list we shall feel that he deserves canonization instead of

punishment."

PART III.

IN THE SERVICE OF THE DUKE.

CHAPTER I.

MALACHI.

The next day the prisoner continued his confession:

My experience at Berdiczov monastery, my deliverance from destruction,

as well as the miraculous restoration of my crippled limb, decided me

to adopt the faith of the holy brotherhood.

Their solemn ceremonies, their elevating devotions, their piety, made

a deep impression on me; but the most comforting to me of all their

rites was that of the confessional.

It was such a comfort to unbosom myself to one in whom I could trust

implicitly; to confide in him all the secrets that tortured my dreams

by night, and my thoughts by day. And then, to receive absolution--to

get back, as it were, the bond I had given to Satan!

One day was not long enough for all I had to tell. I could have spent

every day of the week in the confessional, pouring into the ear of the

good Father Agapitus the sins which burdened my conscience. And one

day I confessed, too, that I was becoming weary of the life in the

monastery, where there was nothing to do but tend to the sick all day

long; and that I wanted to go back to the world--if not to my former

sinful life.

After I had confessed, I ventured to ask the worthy father to

recommend me to some Polish noble, with whom I should have little work

and much amusement. There were many such places, I said, where the

services of a man of my stamp were required.

"My dear son," returned the worthy father, "I cannot recommend you to

a Christian man of the world, for, although I could tell him that you

are a pious confrater now, I could not say that you have always been

honest. I know just the contrary, and I cannot give false witness. But

I will do what I can for you. Here is the crutch you left with us--the

gold is still in it. Take it, garb yourself in beggar raiment, and

limp to Lemberg, where lives a Master Malachi in the Jewish quarter of

the city. You need only to inquire for him, and you will be directed

to his house. He is a wicked man, in league with Satan. He deserves to

have been sent to the scaffold long ago--and he will get there should

the Inquisition be established. Malachi is the man for your needs.

Tell him what you require, he will understand you--especially if you

tell him what your crutch contains!"

I could understand clearly that a pious man like Father Agapitus could

do nothing for me--so notorious a sinner! He could not give me a

letter of recommendation, with false dates; it was enough if he

directed me where to find an accomplished counterfeiter, who could

supply my wants. So, I kissed his hand in gratitude; bade him

farewell, and, with my crutch under my shoulder, set out for Lemberg,

begging my way so that no one should suspect that I carried in my

crutch the wherewith to pay for food and lodging.

When I arrived in Lemberg I repaired at once to the Jews' quarter,

where the streets are so narrow two wagons cannot pass one another.

Directly I entered the principal thoroughfare, which seemed a

veritable rag-fair from one end to the other, I was surrounded by a

swarm of noisy children.

I took from my pocket a denarius, held it up before them, and said I

would give it to the lad who would conduct me to the house of Malachi,

whereupon the youngsters began to quarrel as to which of them should

become the possessor of the coin. The largest scamp among them, who

succeeded by force of his superior size and strength to vanquish his

fellows, offered himself as guide.

He led me a pretty chase, through numerous byways and alleys, where

there was hardly room for two persons to pass, to a shop in front of

which was sitting an aged dame, with her cap drawn down to her

eyebrows.

Said my guide, after I had placed the denarius in his hand:

"This woman knows where Malachi lives--she will tell you;" and before

I could stop him, the little rascal was off down the street as fast

as his legs could carry him.

I turned to the crone, who kept nodding her old head as if she were

assenting to anything I might say to her, took from my pocket a

_Marien-groschen_, and holding it toward her, said:

"Here, mother, this pretty coin shall be yours if you will direct me

to Malachi's house."

She nodded--as much as to say "very good;" rose from her chair,

shuffled into the shop, where she filled a small vial with red Polish

brandy. This she handed to me with one hand, at the same time

extending the other for the money.

"I don't want brandy--I want to know where Malachi lives?" I shouted

at the top of my voice.

The dame trotted back into the shop and brought a bottle of green

Russian brandy.

The little scamp had left me to deal with a deaf woman! When I bawled

into her ear for the third time the name of Malachi, she fetched from

the shop a packet of insect powder which she offered in exchange for

the _Marien-groschen_.

Then I bethought me of an expedient which is usually successful in

like cases: I took from my pocket a crown and held it toward the dame.

This cure for deafness proved effective.

"Oh, you want to find Malachi?" she said in a cautious whisper,

nodding understandingly. "Follow me."

She closed and locked the shop-door, opened a little gate at the

corner of the house, led me across a vegetable garden hung with

soiled clothes; across a second; thence through a narrow passage,

between two old buildings, into a wood-shed; from there into a cellar;

then over a swinging bridge across an ill-smelling canal; and, lastly,

through a long, seemingly interminable corridor, at the end of which

she knocked with her staff at a wooden door, at the same time

whispering in my ear, and taking the crown from my hand:

"I can't tell you where Malachi lives; but I have brought you to the

thaumaturgus, who knows everything; he will tell you where to find

Malachi."

The door opened, and I saw before me a venerable man with silvery hair

and beard. He was blind. His tall form was enveloped in a black silk

robe girt about the waist by an oriental sash. From his garb, I

concluded that a coin of greater value would be necessary to procure

the information I desired.

"Are you the man who knows everything?" I inquired.

The old gentleman was not in the least chary of words. With great

readiness he declared that he understood the language of the birds of

the air; the speech of the beasts of the field; that he could converse

with dragons; could discover subterranean springs; could tell any man

whether or no he was the son of his father; could even understand the

tongue in which demons spake--

"But," I interrupted, "I don't want to know any of these things. If

you will tell me where Malachi lives, I will pay for the information."

"Ah, my son!" he responded, turning his sightless eyes heavenward;

"that is a difficult question to answer. There are in this world as

many Malachis as there are flowers in the field, and stars in the sky.

There are seventy-seven in this very city; a Malachi Mizraim; a

Malachi Meschugge; a Malachi Choschen; Malachi Pinkas; Malachi

Honnowas--How do I know which Malachi you want?"

"I want the one who is a--counterfeiter," I answered, with some

hesitation.

"Ah, my son!" again ejaculated the venerable sage, shaking his head

sadly, "how sorry I am to hear that you are on such evil ways! All the

Malachis with whom I have to do are honest, God-fearing men."

I saw plainly that I should have to assist the old gentleman's memory;

I pressed a gold coin into his palm. He turned it over and over in his

fingers; tested it in various ways; and, after convincing himself that

it was genuine, he delivered this apothegmatic solution of the riddle:

"My son, he whom you seek, I cannot find. I have never seen him--I am

blind. We will consult the Miracle."

He stepped back into the room, to the table, where he groped about

with his hands among the different objects, until he found a long

steel needle. This he thrust between the leaves of a heavy book lying

on the table, opened it, and placing his forefinger at the point of

the needle, where it rested on the page, said, in a prophetic tone:

"He whom the Miracle designates is Ben Malachi Peixoto, the

Portuguese--not I, but the Miracle says so."

"And where shall I find this Portuguese?" I asked.

"When you go from the door of my dwelling, you will find his directly

opposite. Knock twice, then once, then twice again, and you will be

admitted. And now, my son, go your way in peace!"

A stocky youth, with a candle, conducted me down a dark stairway,

opened the door, and I found myself in the same street from which I

had started on my quest. Malachi's house was the first one on the

corner. I had been led a tramp, for half a day, hither and thither, up

and down, through the entire Ghetto, to reach the first house in it!

I knocked on the door as I had been directed; it was opened by a

quince-colored lad. I cannot say for certain whether it was a lad or a

lass, I think, though, it was a lad. I could not understand the

language he spoke--indeed, I don't believe it was a language at all!

He conducted me up a creaking staircase, into a darkened room, in the

corner of which crouched a human form with its back to the door. He

did not turn at my entrance, but kept his face turned from me all the

time I was in the room.

In front of him was a mirror in which he could see my reflection. The

fleeting glimpse I caught of his face in the glass, told me that the

mysterious creature had no beard; his face was quite smooth, which I

believe is the fashion among Portuguese Jews; it had been embrocated

with orpiment, which eats off the hair of the beard--a Mosaic law

prohibiting the use of metal to remove hair from the face.

"Is Malachi at home?" I inquired.

"Malachi is at home; what do you want of him?"

The man spoke in the third person, so that I could not have sworn that

he to whom I addressed my inquiries was Malachi or not.

"I will tell you my errand as briefly as possible," said I. "I want to

secure a position in the household of Duke Visznovieczky, and require

a patent of nobility to certify to my noble birth. I also want an

academic testimonial; a certificate of baptism and confirmation in the

Roman Catholic Church; and, lastly, I want a letter of recommendation

from some grand duke or other, which testifies to my erudition, and

skill in all the sciences, as well as to my excellent character. Of

course I don't expect you to furnish me with all these documents for

nothing. I am willing to pay your price for them. How much do you

ask?"

The man replied to my reflection in the mirror: "Malachi's answer to

your insolent request is: You have applied to the wrong person.

Malachi does not meddle with such criminal doings. Moreover, Malachi

has nothing whatever to do with ragged beggars like yourself. If you

desire to become such a knight as you describe, and have the money to

pay for the transformation, go to Malachi's cousin, Malchus, the

tailor, who sells gentlemen's clothing. He lives on the corner of

Bethel street, beside the fountain. From him you can buy all manner of

fine raiment. Malchus will transform you to a noble knight--if you

have the money to pay for it. And now be gone from here, and don't

come back again, for Malachi is an honest man whose lips do not utter

falsehoods; his fingers have never been stained with the ink of

forgery."

Firmly believing that he was the Malachi I sought, I departed from his

house with a disappointed heart, and betook myself to Bethel street,

to the house beside the fountain, where I found Malchus the tailor. I

would at least exchange my beggar's garb for the raiment of a

gentleman.

"How glad I am to see your lordship again!" exclaimed the little man,

as I stepped into his door. "May I become as the dust of the street,

if it doesn't seem a hundred years since I saw you last! But, does

your lordship imagine I could fail to recognize the noble knight

Zdenko Kochanovszki, who, in fulfillment of a vow, journeyed on foot,

and garbed as a pilgrim, to Jerusalem and back? Have not I, Malchus

the tailor, eyes to see? I'll wager my head against a button, that

nobody but myself would recognize your lordship in those ragged

garments. Could the beautiful Persida, from whom your lordship

received the magnificent wreath at the tournament, see you now, she

would say: 'Give this ragged beggar a penny, and drive him away.' She

is a duchess now, the wife of the powerful Duke Visznovieczki. But _I_

have not forgotten your lordship; I still have the clothes your

lordship left in pledge with me--also the embroidered leather-belt

with the bag containing the documents. I kept them all, safely

concealed, for I knew your lordship, the brave and noble Zdenko

Kochanovszki, would return from the holy land and redeem his pledge."

I saw at once that I should have to accept the personality thrust upon

me by the loquacious little tailor, and call myself Zdenko

Kochanovszki; and when I found how admirably the puissant knight's

cast-off garments fitted me, I no longer hesitated to take possession

of his name also.

And that is how I became Zdenko Kochanovszki. When I was completely

garbed--and a stately mazar, I looked in the knight's habiliments!--I

asked Malchus what was to pay.

"Why, surely your lordship remembers the sum I advanced on the

clothes? Of course, I did not count in the loan the jeweled clasps

your lordship desired to be sent to the beautiful Persida; so you owe

me only a round hundred ducats--"

"A hundred ducats?" I repeated in consternation. "Why there isn't in

all Poland a waywode who can boast of so costly a suit of clothes."

Malchus smiled slyly: "That is very true, my lord, and there is not in

all Poland a magnate who can boast of more valuable documents than

those in the bag attached to your lordship's leather-belt. When your

lordship left them with me and charged me to care for them as for the

apple of my eye, I knew they must be of great importance. So I have

kept them safely concealed all these years. I don't know what the

papers contain as I can read only what I write with my own hand. I

don't understand Latin, or Greek; and I don't know how to read from

left to right; consequently your lordship may believe me when I say I

have not read the papers. Your lordship will find everything in the

bag just as when it was placed in my hands for safe keeping."

I opened the bag, and, on examining the documents, found to my

surprise and delight that they were just what I wanted. There was a

patent of nobility, with a Turk's head in the crest--(concerning the

Turk's head I might justly have appropriated it for my own escutcheon,

only I had not come into possession of it on the battlefield!) There

was also an academic certificate, from the Rector of Sarbonne, with

the baccalaureate degree; also certificates of baptism and

confirmation, signed by the bishop of Cracow; a testimonial of valor

from the imperial commander-in-chief, Montecucculi; and a pardon from

the patriarch of Jerusalem--such as are bestowed on pilgrims to the

Holy Sepulchre--all of which were the property of Zdenko

Kochanovszki--who I was!

Malchus continued to smile slyly while I was examining the documents,

and when I had read the last one he said:

"Doesn't your lordship think these handsome clothes are worth one

hundred ducats?"

I gave him a hearty slap on the back; then counted out a "round

hundred ducats." The clothes were not worth one-tenth that sum, but I

was quite satisfied with my purchase.

I was now fully equipped for my entrance to the ducal palace; as

Zdenko Kochanovszki I might without hesitation seek admittance

anywhere.

He to whom the name rightly belonged had disappeared eight years

before, and had most likely lost his life in the Holy Land, or in the

battle with the infidels in Hungary. Whoever still remembered the

beardless youth, would not wonder at the great change eight years of

hardship and danger had made in him; and would expect to find the man

a different looking person from the boy. As for my looks--I doubt if

my own mother would have recognized me.

The duke was an old man, of a girth so enormous that he was obliged to

wear a broad surcingle as support to his rotund paunch. His hair and

beard were gray on the right side, but black on the left, which gave

him a very peculiar appearance.

When I presented myself before him, he seized both my hands, and

exclaimed:

"What! Zdenko Kochanovszki back again? The devil! What a man you are

grown! Do you remember what we did at parting?"

I was confused for a moment: how was I to remember what I had never

known? However, I had to reply, so I stammered what I thought the most

probable:

"We drank to each other, your grace."

"By heaven, you are right, lad! That is what we did! But, do you also

remember our wager?"

I ventured another guess, and answered:

"Each wagered he could drink the other under the table."

"Ha, ha, ha! Right--right!" shouted his grace, embracing and kissing

me. "That's what we wagered--and the devil fly away with me if I

don't match you again this very moment! Ho, there, fetch the bratina."

The bratina is a huge golden beaker that holds two quarts. This was

brought to me, filled with Hegyaljaner wine.

Now, I had fasted for many hours, and was both hungry and thirsty, so

that it did not require much of an effort on my part to empty the

bratina at a draught--to the supernaculum!

"The devil fetch me!" roared the jovial duke. "If I had not recognized

you already, I should know you now!"

I had no difficulty drinking his grace under the table; and from that

hour I became an important member of his household.

CHAPTER II.

PERSIDA.

"_Crimen falsi_," dictated the chair to the notary.

"But"--the prince made haste to add--"But, _immediatum_, not

_spontaneum_. The accused was led to the indirect committal of the act

by the instructions of Father Agapitus; the real criminal is a Jew--it

is he who deserves the stake. Therefore, the prisoner's transgression

may be remitted."

"If this continues," grumblingly commented the chair, "the prisoner

will surely talk himself out of every one of his crimes.

Well"--addressing himself to the accused--"I don't know what to call

you, but for the time being Zdenko Kochanovszki, continue."

Under that name, your honor, resumed Hugo, I lived the most memorable

days of my life. I was treated by the duke as a good comrade and

familiar friend. We hunted together for days in the ducal forests

slaying the wild bulls and bears by the hundreds; and when we returned

to the palace the merry-making began. There would be feasting and

drinking; the most enchanting music by a band of Bohemian players; the

court-fools would amuse us with all sorts of buffoonery; and when any

of the jovial company succumbed to the beaker and tumbled under the

table the attendants carried them to bed. Not infrequently it happened

that his grace and myself would be the only two left at the table--we

being able to stand more than the others.

At times, too, I would entertain the company by relating the most

wonderful tales of my pilgrimage, which were listened to with close

attention.

In all this time I had not seen a single woman about the palace.

The grand-duchess was absent on a pilgrimage to Berdiczov, in

fulfillment of a vow. I learned from one of the guests that the duke's

marriage had not been blessed with an heir, and this was why the

duchess had undertaken the devout journey. As she knew she should be

absent several weeks, she took with her all the women servants, as

well as her ladies-in-waiting--from which I guessed the fair Persida

to be a shrewd, as well as a beautiful woman.

I waited her grace's return with no little apprehension, for, with the

exception of the grand duke himself, every one about the palace knew

that Zdenko Kochanovszki had been a devoted admirer of the lady before

her marriage. Indeed, it was said that her marriage to the rich old

duke had sent the youthful Zdenko on his pilgrimage.

That all this was unknown to his grace was certain, else the reception

accorded to me, whom he believed to be his former boon companion,

would not have been so cordial.

There would be some sport when the lady returned home.

Would she, too, see in me her quondam admirer? What would happen to me

if the eyes of a loving woman should prove more keen than those of

her husband? What would be the result if she saw through my

masquerade? If she should say: "Away with this rogue--he is a

deceiver! I know what dwells in the eyes of the true Zdenko, for I

have looked into them. These are not Zdenko's eyes."

And again: what would happen if she should believe me to be her

one-time lover? and question me as her husband had done: "Do you

remember the promise we gave to each other?" And, suppose I should be

as lucky in guessing the reply as before!

* * * * *

The duke spoke boastfully of his dragoon's victory over the haidemaken

before the walls of Berdiczov monastery. The robbers had been mowed

down like grain; only the leader and a few of his men had escaped by

the skin of their teeth; their field-gun had been captured and the

gunner hanged on one of the tallest trees--your honors may guess that

I took good care not to deny this statement!

I praised the duke's heroism, and listened attentively to his tales

about the terrible haidemaken, as if I had never heard of them before.

At last, one fine day, the pilgrims returned from Berdiczov; and the

joyous sound of women's voices was heard in the palace. Master and man

hastened to welcome the fair ones. I alone had no one to greet.

I was very curious to see what manner of woman the beautiful Persida

might be--she for whose sake the owner of my name had gone out into

the wide world.

The duke hastened to assist her from the carriage on the arrival of

the caravan. She was very graceful--tall, with a pale face, large,

dark languishing eyes, full red lips, and coal black hair.

When her spouse pressed his moist moustache to her lips, she made a

grimace. He was overjoyed at her return. The duke's guests and

attendants welcomed the returned duchess, each in their own fashion;

the former pressed their lips to her hand; the latter kissed the hem

of her robe. I did not want my first meeting with her grace to take

place in the presence of the entire household; but the duke called me

from the hall, where I had withdrawn, and said:

"See here, my love, who is this? Look at him, and tell me if you

recognize the lad?"

I was afraid to meet the glance which scrutinized my features--I felt

that I should be compelled to blurt out:

"I am Baran, gunner of the haidemaken."

"You don't recognize him, do you?" again said the duke. "I knew you

wouldn't. 'Tis our long absent comrade Zdenko Kochanovszki."

For one single instant I saw into that woman's soul. At mention of my

name, a sudden light leapt into her eyes--a world of passion flamed

for one brief instant.

Her husband had not seen it, only I. Then the beautiful eyes became

cold again, and indifferent, and the queenly head was gravely bent in

recognition of an old acquaintance, the slender fingers were extended

for the formal kiss of greeting.

She did not vouchsafe another glance toward me, but turned toward the

duke, laid her hand on his arm, and said with sudden friendliness:

"_Comment vous portez-vous, mon petit drole?_"

Although her grace took no further notice of me, I saw my way clear

for the future.

With the return of the duchess the household regulations underwent a

complete change. The noisy tipplers received their _conge_; the

nightly carousals came to an end. Quite a different mode of life had

been prescribed by the prior of the monastery for the ducal pair, if

they wished his blessing to have the desired effect. All fast days

were to be strictly observed; they might eat only sparingly of the

plainest food--only of those dishes which conduce to strength: snails,

frogs, and those vegetables which grow under ground.

This sort of diet, as you may guess, was not suited to the palates of

the duke's guests. One after another took his departure, until none

remained but myself; and I had become indispensable to his grace,

because of my ability to amuse him with adventurous tales.

Every evening the duchess would send for me to read aloud in a

religious book, about saints, until the duke would become sleepy. Her

grace continued to treat me with extreme reserve; she never lifted her

eyes to mine when she spoke to me, but always kept them lowered, as if

she were addressing her remarks to my boots.

She appeared to be extraordinarily pious; she would repeat a long

prayer before and at the end of every meal. She never called me by

name--always "Sir." Indeed, the only time she unbent from her frigid

reserve, was, when she patted her husband's fat, bearded cheek, or

pulled his moustache, to restore him to a good humor; but these

occasions were rare.

Before the duke retired for the night, the duchess prepared with her

own fair hands his slumber draught, the recipe for which she had

received from the prior of Berdiczov monastery. It was composed of all

sorts of costly spices--an enumeration of which I may repeat later,

should I take up the trade of concocting various potations, the

efficacy of which may not be doubted.

The chief ingredient of the duke's sleeping potion was hot, red wine;

and he was wont to smack his lips and exclaim after he had emptied the

glass:

"Ah!--my love, that has quite rejuvenated me." He would spring lightly

as a youth from his arm-chair, take his wife's hand, and gallantly

conduct her to their private chambers, leaving me to the solitary

perusal of the pious volume--to learn what had happened to St.

Genevieve, when Attila's Huns besieged Paris.

One evening we were engaged as usual with our instructive reading. The

duke and his wife were seated in front of the fire-place; I, as

always, occupied a chair at the table on which rested the ponderous

"History of the Saints and Martyrs." I had been reading for an hour

and more, how St. Genevieve had relieved Paris a second time from

famine, when the duke suddenly interrupted to say he was so thirsty he

must beg that his nightly potion be given to him at once. His wife

prepared it for him; but, instead of rising to retire to his own rooms

as usual, after he had emptied the glass, he settled himself back in

his chair, clasped his hands over his paunch, and in a few minutes his

powerful snoring again interrupted the reading.

The duchess looked at him for several moments with an indescribable

expression on her lovely face--a mixture of loathing, rage, and

contempt; then, she sprang to her feet, came swiftly toward the table

where I was sitting, and gave it so vigorous a thrust with her foot

that it toppled over and fell, together with the Saints and Martyrs,

to the floor with a loud noise. His grace did not stir; his snores

continued with unabated vigor.

Before I had recovered from my astonishment at her grace's behavior,

she seated herself on my knee and flung her arms around my neck:

"So you have come back to me, Zdenko? Tell me, do you still love me?"

she asked in a passionate whisper, at the same time making it

impossible for me to reply--

"Stop!" here interrupted the chair: "I don't quite understand how that

could be?"

"I do," promptly, and succinctly interposed the prince. "Continue,

prisoner, what happened next?"

I hardly know how to tell it, your highness. It was like a dream of

paradise! I knew that every kiss I received and returned was deceit,

robbery, sacrilege; I knew I was cheating the house which sheltered

me; the master of the house who fed me; the unknown man whose name I

bore--the woman--God--the devil--all--all. And yet, were you to ask me

what I should do were I to be placed in the same situation again, I

should reply: "Just what I did then--and if it cost me my life!"

"Hardened reprobate!" exclaimed the chair in a tone of reprimand. Then

he dictated to the notary: "_Adulterium cum stellionatum_--"

"But," hastily interposed the prince, "he did not begin it. In this

case, as in that of Father Adam: the woman was to blame. The prisoner

will continue."

I know it was a great crime--I know it very well, and it oppresses my

soul to this day, although I have received absolution for it. In that

moment of oblivion to all things earthly, the lovely Persida whispered

in my ear:

"Zdenko, if you could journey to the Holy Land for love of me you

could also endure a season of purgatory for my sake, could you not?"

Without stopping to consider, I answered:

"Certainly I could!"

"Very well, then, do not confess this sin which is half mine. Do not

confide it to priest, or saint, for no matter to whom you might

confess, misfortune would come to me as well as to you."

I promised not to confess the sin; but I went about with it weighting

my soul, much as a wounded stag roams the forest with a dart in his

vitals.

The old duke at last became so devout that he compelled every member

of his household to repair to the confessional in his private chapel,

every fast day. There was nothing to be seen of the priest who

received the penitents, but his hand, in which he held a long ivory

wand with which he would touch the penitent as a sign that absolution

had been granted.

The duke confessed first; after him the duchess; then I, the

house-friend, and major-domo of the ducal household. When my turn

came, I took my place before the lattice and said to the confessor:

"Father, will you give me your word of honor that you will never tell

what I confess to you?"

"Don't ask such silly questions, my son," he replied. "Don't you know

that the secrets of the confessional are inviolably sacred?"

"But, suppose you should tell them sometime?" I persisted.

"Then I should be burned at the stake."

"Has it never happened that a priest betrayed the secrets confided to

him in the confessional?" I asked again.

"Such a case is not on record, my son. Not even the confession of a

murderer may be revealed, though the priest knows that an innocent man

will be hanged for the crime. He dare not speak to prevent the law

from committing another murder. On the other hand, many a priest has

suffered martyrdom rather than betray the secrets confided to him. An

illustrious example is Saint Nepomuck, of whom I dare say you have

heard?"

"Yes, I have read about John Nepomucene; but are you a saint of that

order?"

"The vows I have taken, my son, are the same he took."

"That is not enough, father; you must swear to me that you will never

reveal what I tell you."

And his reverence had to yield to my importunate request before I

would make my confession to him. After he had solemnly sworn never to

reveal what I should tell him, I made a clean breast of

everything--and a rare list it was I can tell you!

At the last transgression, however, I made a pause. I remembered what

Persida had said to me. And yet, the sin I shared with her was the

very one that most oppressed my soul.

The father noticed my hesitation, and said:

"My son, you are keeping back something. You have not told me

everything. It is not likely that a stately young gentleman like

yourself lives only on caraway-soup! There are many handsome women in

this city; every one of them confesses her foibles--you, surely, are

not the only saint about here! Remember, if you withhold but a single

transgression, your tortures in purgatory will be the same as for

nine-hundred and ninety-nine."

The reverend father continued to threaten me with purgatorial fires,

until at last I confided in him the secret which was only half mine. I

had no sooner done so than I regretted it; I would have given anything

could I have recalled my words--nay, I would willingly have journeyed

straightway to purgatory, as I had told Persida I would, rather than

betray the secret we shared together. But the secrets of a sinful love

have wings--they will escape somehow.

When I bent forward to receive the reverend father's benediction, he

gave me such a thump on the head with his wand that the spot remained

sore to the touch for several days.

"He absolves one with a will, and no mistake!" I said to myself as I

rose to go my way. It occurred to me for an instant, that it would be

exceedingly comical if, instead of a priest, it had been the duke who

received my confession. I turned to look toward his grace's arm-chair,

and was relieved to see that his burly form occupied it, and that he

was wrapped in devout slumber.

THE IRON NECKLACE.

Freed from the burden of my transgressions, I proceeded to do what is

usually done by the prodigal sons who have been relieved of their old

debts--I set about at once to make new ones.

I looked forward with impatience for evening to arrive, for the hour

of instructive reading in the book of Saints and Martyrs.

On this particular evening the duke was even more friendly toward me

than usual; he jested with me, and frequently compelled me to exchange

glasses with him as a sign of his cordial friendship.

When the hour arrived for the duchess to prepare the "rejuvenating

sleeping potion," his grace became actually boisterous; his fat face

grew crimson, his rotund paunch shook like jelly, with his incessant

laughter.

"See here, comrade," he exclaimed, taking from his wife's hand the

goblet in which the hot, spiced wine was steaming, "this is a drink

of paradise! When I have emptied it into my stomach, I fly direct to

paradise--not the one described by our holy men, where all the men are

old, and all the women pious; where there is neither eating nor

drinking and where there are no amusements save harp-playing and psalm

singing--no, I fly straightway to the improved paradise of the

Mohammedans, where there is wine to drink and women to admire. There

an enchanting Greek _Hetaere_ offers you the wine of Cyprus; the Roman

bacchante offers Falernian wine; the Spanish donna serves Maderia; the

Lesbian siren gives you nectar; the Persian bayadere brings Shiraz;

the Wallachian fairy, Tokay; and the negress Abelera dips up sparkling

Bordeaux in the hollow of her dusky palm and holds it to your

lips--each more beautiful than the other, until at last you cannot

decide which of the wines is the most delicious. That is _I_ cannot,

for you have not yet made the journey. But you shall; for are not we

good comrades--you and I? Is it not meet that I should let my heart's

brother enjoy paradisal delights with me? To be sure it is! Very good!

You shall go in my stead this very evening to Mohammed's paradise--but

only this once, mind you! Here, take the glass, empty it to the

dregs!" I was exceedingly embarrassed; I looked questioningly toward

the duchess, who was seated on the arm of her husband's chair. He

could not see her nod her head as if to say, "Do as you are bid."

I took the goblet and emptied it to the dregs. Almost immediately I

was overcome by a languor that seemed to transform my material body

to vapor. I rose from the earth to the clouds which assumed the most

fantastic shapes; on and on the breeze wafted me; over enchanting

regions, amid talking trees and singing fruits; across a sea of

radiant light swept by waves of harmony--amid music, and color, and

perfumes, the quintessence of sweetness, amid gorgeous flames which

became forms of transcendent loveliness: Delilah; Bathsheba; Salome;

Lais; Aspasia; Cleopatra; Semiramis; Circe; and the dusky Atalanta.

The seductive forms gathered around me; they pressed toward me,

smiling alluringly. They thrust on to every one of my fingers rings

that glittered with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, until my hands became

so heavy I could not lift them. Their embraces strangled me; their

kisses burned on my face and neck like fire; the dusky Atalanta's

coral lips drew the blood from my veins--

"Are you never going to waken from your satanic dream?" impatiently

interrupted the chair.

"Let him dream--it is rather pleasant," interposed the prince; but

Hugo said:

"I am awake. The place in which I found myself, when I opened my eyes,

was not Mohammed's paradise, but an underground dungeon, the walls of

which were dripping with moisture. The flickering light of a small

lamp faintly illumined the narrow cell; and the rings which weighted

my hands were heavy iron chains that creaked and clinked every

movement I made. The kisses which burned on my face and neck were not

from the lips of Delilah, Circe, and the rest; but from those

horrible hundred-legged creatures, scolopendra, which covered my body;

and the dusky Atalanta, who drew the blood from my neck, was nothing

less than a hideous vampyre. The embraces which strangled me were not

from the white arms of enchantresses, but from an iron band two inches

thick and three fingers wide, fastened about my neck, and secured to a

ring in the wall by a chain, that was only long enough to allow me to

reach and convey to my mouth the mouldy bread and jug of water placed

by my side--"

"Served you right, you godless miscreant!" interpolated the chair in a

severe tone. "You got your just deserts at last!"

At first--continued the prisoner--I consoled myself with the foolish

thought that I was still under the influence of the sleeping potion. I

remembered that those persons who eat the flesh of sharks are said to

have such dreams: delightful visions at first, followed by the

tortures of martyrdom.

But the iron neck-band was too painful a reality for me to remain long

in doubt as to whether I was awake, or dreaming. The cold, hard, heavy

ring betrothed me to death!

How long a time I passed in thinking over what had happened I can't

say; there was no night, no day, in that dungeon; nor was I told by

sleep and hunger when it was midnight or noon.

The lamp in my cell was a perpetual one, for the oil did not grow

less; it was there, doubtless, to reveal to me all the horrors of my

surroundings. Reptiles, all manner of creeping and crawling creatures

moved over the stone floor and walls; vampyres hung in rows from the

ceiling, watching me with their garnet eyes, ready to flash down on me

the moment I lost consciousness in sleep.

At last a sound roused me from the stupor into which I had fallen; a

key turned in the lock, the iron door opened, and a tall man, whose

face was hidden by a capuchin, entered, with a jug of water and a loaf

of bread.

"Well, my lad," he exclaimed, on seeing that I had not touched the

bread or the water by my side. "Do you propose to starve yourself?"

His voice sounded strangely familiar; I did not have to trouble my

brain guessing where I had heard it before; he pushed back his

capuchin, and I recognized the haidemaken priest who had performed the

ceremony of confirmation over me in the cavern.

"You are the haidemaken pater?" I whispered hoarsely, not trusting

myself to speak aloud.

"Then you recognize me, do you?" he returned, laughing. "I had an idea

you would deny all knowledge of our former comradeship."

"Are you the gaoler here?" I asked.

"The gaoler?" he repeated, laughing again. "Not by a good deal! I am

the court-confessor!" He sat down on the stone seat to which I was

chained, and continued: "I dare say you are curious to learn how I

come to be here? Well, when the duke's dragoons attacked the

haidemaken at Berdiczov, I hastily donned my chasuble and capuchin,

trusting to the vestments to save my life, which they did; but I was

taken prisoner and brought to the duke. I could not deny that I was a

haidemak, but his grace evidently had use for a person like myself,

for he said to me: "You deserve to be hanged, reverend father, but I

will spare your life on condition that you accept a proposition I

shall offer you: I want you to act the part of court-confessor for a

season, to receive the confessions of those persons I shall send to

you. I suspect my wife of infidelity, but cannot find out who is the

partner of her guilt. They both confess to the court-chaplain I have

no doubt, but he is an honest old saint who would let himself be torn

to pieces rather than betray the secrets confided to him in the

confessional. Now, you are of a different pattern; it will not matter

to you if the fires of purgatory are heated a few degrees hotter for

your purification. If you don't accept my conditions you will have the

opportunity at once of testing the temperature of purgatory; if you

accept you shall have a respite. What do you say? Will you become my

court-confessor?"

"You may believe, lad, that I would have acceded to a much more

difficult proposition in order to save my neck from the gallows; so I

became confessor to the ducal household. When I saw you coming toward

the confessional I recognized you at once, and guessed that you would

have some pretty sins to get rid of. I was not surprised when you told

me of your sinful dalliance with the beautiful young duchess; and

quite envied your good fortune. I said to myself, 'I will not betray

the lad; but make him do penance for the sin,' so I ordered you to put

seven dried peas in each shoe and journey on foot to the shrine of

the Holy Virgin at Berdiczov. Had you been content to do as I bade

you, you would not be here now; but you began to haggle with me about

the peas--you urged me to let you boil them before you put them into

your shoes; and, to win my indulgence, you told me of the good turn

you had done the monks of Berdiczov by betraying the haidemaken into

the hands of the duke's dragoons. Ha! but didn't I want to fly at your

throat when I heard that! I wanted to strangle you, I was so enraged

to hear that it was you who had betrayed us and frustrated our fine

plans to secure the monks' treasure. However, I contented myself with

giving you a sound rap on the head and straightway communicated to his

grace what you had confessed. You have got for your reward the entire

ducal property, for you are chained to it so securely you cannot get

away from it."

The next query I put to the cursed haidemaken priest was: "What has

been done with the duchess?"

"You need not trouble yourself about her highness, my son; the duke is

too shrewd a man of the world to make public the disgrace of his

house. The beautiful Persida does not know that she has been betrayed.

The causes assigned for your incarceration are forgery; the usurpation

of the name of a noble knight; and for being a member of a robber

band--for all of which you deserve death. That you have been condemned

to suffer a hundred deaths for your dalliance with the lovely Persida,

instead of only one for the transgressions assigned, no one will ever

know. As for the duchess: one of these fine days she will, after

eating a peach or a pear, get a severe colic that will result in her

death. The funeral ceremonies in the Vieznovieczky palace will be most

imposing--and that will be the end of her grace. It might come to

pass, however, that the obsequies of his grace might precede those of

the duchess. It depends on which of the ducal pair gets the better of

the other! But, you have only yourself to think of, my son. I am here

to offer you one of two alternatives: Ask to be tried before a court

which will sentence you to immediate death on the wheel--unless the

duke out of compassion for a good comrade orders your head to be cut

off. The other alternative is: Elect to remain in this hole, chained

to the wall, battling with vermin while you live, and becoming food

for them when the breath leaves your body. _Tertium non datur._"

To this I made answer that I preferred to be executed without delay,

even were I to be broiled on a gridiron over a slow fire. I was quite

ready to die.

"Very well, my son, then I will proceed at once to administer to you

the last sacraments--"

"Go to the devil!" I cried furiously, when he approached me with the

wafer he had taken from his pocket. "I won't have any more of your

cursed mummery. You are no better than I am--you too are sure to go to

hell!"

"That is more than likely, my son," responded the accursed priest

composedly. "The only difference between us is in the manner of our

journeying thither. You will travel on foot--I on wheels. So, don't

you think it would be well to let me give you a lift on the way? With

the heavy pack of sins on your back you might hang on to the

tail-board of my wagon!"

I could not help but laugh at the rascal, so I said: "Very well, if

your blessing will help me over the road more quickly, go ahead and

let's have it!--and may the devil fly away with you!"

He thrust the wafer down my throat and I had hardly got it comfortably

swallowed when I fell into a deep sleep. The wafer contained a

powerful narcotic.

THE WHITE DOVE.

In my death-like sleep I still saw the dungeon walls, still felt the

iron fetters on neck, hands and feet. Instead of the tiny lamp flame,

however, which had only dimly lighted the musty cell, a radiant light

now filled it--a light that came from overhead. When, with great

difficulty, I lifted my face toward the ceiling, I beheld an ethereal

form bending above me; her white garments gleamed like snow under

brilliant sunshine; her blue mantle was like the starry sky of

evening. The coronet above her brow was like the crescent moon. The

face was so radiant I could not look at it--my eyes were dazzled as

when I gazed into the noon-day sun. The radiant vision held on her

right arm an infant; the forefinger of its right hand was pressed

against its lips. I believed the Holy Virgin had descended to me; but

when the vision came nearer to me, kissed me, and called me by name,

then I knew that it was my Madus--my poor deserted, forgotten Madus!

I was so ashamed of the fetters which bound me. If she should ask why

I wore them, how could I reply? "I wear them because of the beautiful

woman who caused me to forget you."

But she did not ask any questions; she smiled tenderly, and said in

her gentle tones:

"My poor Baran! How unhappy you seem! Cheer up--we are come to help

you--to release you. My home is now in paradise--I will tell you how I

came to dwell there. On Christmas eve, I was kneeling in front of the

holy image you brought to me from Berdiczov, expecting every minute

the arrival of the little guest for my Bethlehem crib, when I heard a

familiar step outside the cottage. It was my father. I hurriedly

snatched the blessed image from the table to hide it, for I knew the

sight of it would anger him; but I was seized with such a terrible

pain in my heart I had to press the image against it with both hands.

I hardly recognized my father. His face was fearfully cut, and

mutilated; one eye was gone. "Your precious Baran betrayed us," he

gasped, glaring at me with the remaining eye. I opened my lips to

speak for you, but before I could utter a word he said again: "You are

his accomplice, you miserable creature! What are you hiding in your

breast?" I could not lie, so I told him it was the image of the

Blessed Virgin. "A gift from the Berdiczov monks I'll warrant!" he

shrieked, seizing my hair and flinging me on the floor. I heard the

keen blade of his cimeter hiss through the air--then, it seemed as if

the sky fell over me. The next instant I found myself in paradise,

with every pain changed to bliss. I may not reveal to you the secrets

of that blessed realm, my Baran. I may only tell you that our little

child is with me--he was born in heaven. This is he--he is come to

save his father from death."

As she spake these words the child bent toward me and took hold of the

chains which bound my feet and hands. They fell asunder at his touch.

But the iron band around my neck was too wide for his tiny fingers to

clasp; it was impossible for him to break it. But he did what

twenty-four horses could not have done: with one pull he drew from the

wall the iron ring to which the neck-band was secured by a chain.

"My blessed child!" I exclaimed, kissing the little hands. "If your

strength is so great, then seize hold of my hair, and bear me with you

to your home above the clouds."

The little one laid his finger against his lips as a sign that he

could not, or dared not speak; but the mother answered for him:

"No, my good Baran, you cannot come to us. Before that will be

possible you will have to endure many more trials in this world of

shadows. You will have to abide here until you shall have performed a

good deed for which some one will say to you: 'God reward you.' One

single good deed, my Baran, will do more toward winning paradise than

a hundred pilgrimages, or a thousand prayers."

How sinful I am, your honors, is proved by the fact that I am still

alive; and as it is not likely that I shall have an opportunity to

perform the deed, which will call down on me a blessing from heaven, I

shall never again behold my little angel son, and his mother, my

sainted Madus.

After the vision had spoken she beckoned me to follow her. The child

touched the wall of the dungeon with his fingers, the stones parted,

and we passed through the opening. The radiant form of my Madus

illuminated the passage amid the rocks, the long flights of stairs we

ascended. We seemed to thread our way through the catacombs. At last

we emerged from the subterranean region into a dense forest. I saw how

the shining garments of my conductress swept over the moss, giving to

it, to the flowers, the grass, the trees, the same soft radiance that

emanated from her form. Gradually the distance between me and the

lovely vision widened; my feet became leaden; I could hardly move my

limbs. Then the radiant appearance lost its human shape, until at last

it seemed to me that I was looking down a long avenue between the

trees at a faint glimmering light at the further end. The cold air

blew across my face, and I awoke.

I was in the forest of my dream, around me were mammoth trees between

which, a long way off, I could see the glimmering light of the open.

The same beggar raiment I had worn to journey to Lemberg clothed me;

my crutch, emptied of its gold, lay by my side. I made my way toward

the light at the edge of the forest. I could see no signs of human

habitation anywhere. How far I was from the scene of my magnificence

and disgrace I cannot say. When I looked at my beggar's rags, I could

easily have believed my Lemberg experience an evil dream, had not the

iron band about my neck been too convincing a proof of its reality.

"Well," here observed the prince, drawing a long breath, "that is a

most remarkable story!--a miraculous rescue of a transgressor through

the aid of the Almighty Father!"

To this the chair added: "I am inclined to believe that the prisoner's

escape from the dungeon was effected through earthly, rather than

heavenly assistance. It is more likely that the haidemaken priest,

bribed by the duchess, conveyed the prisoner to the forest, and clad

him in the rags which had been procured from the Jew Malchus."

"_I_ believe the story just as the accused told it," asseverated his

highness. "There are a number of similar cases on record--of notorious

bandits having been released from imprisonment by the hands of an

unborn babe."

"And I assure your highness"--Hugo ventured to insist--"that

everything happened just as I related it. From the moment of my waking

in the forest, a white dove nestled on my left shoulder, and

accompanied me wherever I went. If I turned to look at it, when it

would coo into my ear, it would fly to my right shoulder; but it

seemed to prefer sitting on my left."

"Is the white dove sitting on either of your shoulders now?" queried

the chair.

"No, your honor," sadly replied the prisoner; "it is not there now. I

will tell you later how I came to lose it."

The prince announced his decision as follows:

"As the prisoner's release from the dungeon was accomplished through a

miracle from heaven, it would not be seemly for a human judge to

oppose divine favor. This transgression, therefore, may also be erased

from the register."

PART IV.

WITH THE TEMPLARS.

CHAPTER I.

IN THE HOLLOW TREE.

With a ragged mantle on my back, a crutch in my hand, an iron band

about my neck, and the white dove on my shoulder, where could I have

gone?--even had I wished to leave the forest.

The rags and the crutch were fitting equipment for a beggar; but what

should I have replied had anyone asked me why I wore the iron band on

my neck? I was disgusted with the world and its wickedness.

Overwhelmed with remorse for the sins I had committed, I resolved to

become a hermit and do penance--I would remain in the forest and adopt

the rigorous life of an ascetic.

After a brief search I discovered a brook that would supply me with

fresh water; hard by its banks an oak tree, many centuries old, with a

large cavity in the trunk, offered the shelter I should require. I

collected moss and dry leaves for my bed; for nourishment there was a

plentitude of nuts and wild fruits, and edible fungi. Wild bees

furnished me with sweets.

I bound together two dry branches in form of a cross, set it up

between two large stones, and performed my daily devotions in front of

it.

During the day I roamed through the forest collecting stores for the

winter; I laid up a supply of dried fruit, nuts, sow-bread and

honey--the last I found in the upper part of my tree-house, where a

swarm of bees had taken up their quarters.

Of the raspberries which grew plentifully along the brook, I made a

sort of conserve, which I packed into boxes made of the bark of pine

trees. All these provisions I stored in my tree-house, which I had

firmly resolved never to quit.

But one thought disquieted me. If I remained in the forest how could I

perform the good deed Madus had told me was necessary in order to win

paradise? If I passed all my days in the hollow tree beside the brook,

where no human being ever came near me, how was I to benefit my fellow

creatures? How win the "God will reward you"--the open sesame to

paradise? I pondered this over and over until at last an expedient

suggested itself to me, by which I could make known my existence to my

fellow-creatures and still remain in my hermitage. I looked about for

two broad flat stones; these I fastened together at one side with a

cord made of linden bark and hung them on the lower limb of a tree.

With a third stone for a clapper I rang my primitive bell three times

daily--morn, noon and evening--surely, I said to myself, some one will

hear the sound and come to see what is the meaning of it. When the

people in the neighborhood learn that a devout hermit is living in the

forest, they will visit him, and perhaps bestow alms on him.

But, in vain I rang three times every day, no visitors came to my

hollow tree, save the fawns that came to drink at the brook, and the

wild cats that came to prey on them. Many a time I rescued a young

deer from the claws of the feline enemy. It was to be regretted that

the dumb beasts I rescued could not have thanked me for the good deed.

One day I returned later than was my wont from collecting moss and

ferns to protect me from the cold of winter (I had already fashioned a

door of willow withes to keep the snow out of my tree-house). What was

my surprise to find the door open, and all my provisions gone! Not a

trace of the nuts remained but the shells; there was not a vestige of

the dried fruit; the boxes of raspberry conserve were lying about on

the ground, broken and crushed, as if they had been trodden under foot

by the marauders. Even the tent-shaped honey-comb in the upper portion

of my dwelling was gone, the plundered bees were buzzing angrily

around the tree outside.

I could hardly refrain from uttering a malediction on the thief who

had despoiled me of my winter store; but I remembered my pious vows,

and reproached myself instead: "Shame on you, pious anchorite," I

said, "were you so wedded to earthly possessions that the loss of them

rouses your anger? You were too proud of your store. You were going to

play the sovereign in the wilderness. Others had an equal right to

that which you imagined belonged only to yourself. The truly pious

anchorite does not lay up stores for the morrow. He depends on the

Master to supply his needs. He must pay heed to nothing save his

prayers for the wicked, and praises for the Master. You have been

fitly punished for your arrogance." I said further, "Perhaps this has

happened for the best. Who can say but the despoiler prayed that God

might reward the one who had placed the provisions in the hollow tree.

If so be that was the case, it was a fine hunger it took all my store

to appease!"

And again: "Who knows? Perhaps the hungry one is a great prophet--St.

Peter himself, maybe. I have heard that that distinguished saint

occasionally visits a poor man, and eats up a winter's supply of

provisions, only to return it an hundred fold. If so be it was St.

Peter then he will return tomorrow and so fill your tree with viands

and treasure you will never again want for anything--and, maybe, he

will also bestow on you a passport that will admit you to paradise

whenever you choose to go!"

Consoling myself with such thoughts, I sounded the bell as usual for

vespers; then I drank heartily of brook water, lay down on my soft

bed, and dreamed until morning, of flying hams and kindred paradisal

delights. At sunrise, I rang the early matin bell; then hurried away,

in order not to disturb the prophet when he came to prepare the

surprise for me.

I spent the entire day wandering about the forest, guessing what my

benefactor would bestow on me in return for the nuts, fruits and honey

he had taken--would it be the widow's oil-cruse with its

never-failing contents? or, a pair of bread-supplying ravens? or, a

barley loaf from Mount Gilead? or, a swarm of those savory locusts

which had served as fare for John the Baptist?

In my rambling I came across a heap of beech-nuts. I hesitated to

gather them. What need to take the trouble? There would be plenty, and

to spare, in the hollow tree. However, I filled my pockets with the

nuts, then turned my face homeward.

As I was rather late, I rang for vespers, and told my beads (I had

made a beautiful rosary of acorns) before going to my hermitage. A

deep growl came from the hollow tree when I approached it.

"He is here!" I exclaimed joyfully. "He is waiting to see me. That he

is no ordinary person I can tell by his voice!"

I crept on hands and knees toward the tree, and peeped into the

cavity. The next instant I was on my feet, hurling a million

_donnerwetters_ at the shaggy bear, whose monstrous body quite filled

the only apartment of my dwelling.

I forgot that I was an anchorite, and cursed the brute roundly--

"_Votum violatum_," dictated the chair. "Broken vow--blasphemy!

_Capite plectetur._"

"By my faith!" interposed the prince with considerable emphasis. "I

would have sworn too! _Qui bene distinguit, bene docet._ How goes the

paragraph relating to blasphemy? 'He that curses his fellowman'--and

so forth. But, it doesn't say anything about punishment for him who

curses his 'fellow-bear.' You see, therefore, that the _votum ruptum_

does not fit this crime, for it was not the prisoner who broke the vow

of the anchorite, but the bear; consequently bruin is the delinquent."

"Very good," assented the chair. "Then the bear is the guilty party:

_ursus comburatur_! The robbery of the temple follows: I am curious to

hear how the prisoner will clear himself of that! That he will

accomplish it I am willing to wager my head!"

What was I to do? continued Hugo, when the mayor had concluded his

remark. My house was occupied by a tenant who would not let me share

it with him. I had nowhere else to go. I could not find another

hermitage. If I could not be a hermit, I could become a

beggar--begging was also a way to gain a livelihood, and I possessed

the necessary equipment for it.

In Poland, no one who can say: "Give me bread," needs die of hunger.

The iron band on my neck might, after all, be of advantage to me; it

would give me a sort of superiority over other mendicants. If I were

asked how I came by it, I should say that it had been forged on my

neck by the Saracens, who took me captive when I was in the Holy Land,

and because I had made my escape through a miracle, I continued to

wear the band as a penance.

The good people to whom I told this story believed it; it brought me

many a groschen and carried me comfortably across Poland.

I had no sooner crossed into Brandenburg (I was on my way to my

native city, where I intended taking up the trade of my father, an

honest and respectable tanner) than I was surrounded by a crowd of

people--not a charitably disposed crowd, but inquisitive.

They wanted to know where I came from, where was I going, who and what

was I and how I dared to have the impertinence to beg in their city.

I replied that I was a pilgrim from the Holy Land; and that instead of

thinking it an impertinence for me to beg from them, they ought to

consider it a distinction to have in their community a mendicant with

an iron collar around his neck.

But the Brandenburgers are inclined to believe themselves more clever

than the rest of the world. The bailiff seized me, dragged me to the

market place, where he proceeded to question me for the benefit of the

whole city.

"Who are you?" he inquired.

"I am hungry," I said in reply.

"Where do you come from?"

"From Jerusalem."

"Don't you attempt to deceive me, sirrah! I know the way to Jerusalem.

Through what provinces did you journey?"

"Through Marcomannia, and Scythia; through Bess Arabia, and Arabia

Petraea; through Bactria, and Mesopotamia; and now I come direct from

Caramania--"

"Stop, stop! You are saying what is not true," interrupted the

bailiff. "Praise be to God! we Brandenburgers have maps, and know how

to get to foreign countries. The way to Palestine is through

Zingaria, Paflagonia, Cappadocia, and cinnamon-scented India.

"Well," I explained, "I did travel through those countries too, but it

was at night, when I couldn't see to read their names on the

guide-boards."

"And what means that iron band on your neck?"

"That, your honor, was fastened about my neck by the black sultan,

Zagachrist, who held me captive fifty-two years and three days."

"You are not yet thirty years old."

"No, in this part of the world I am not; but in Abyssinia, where the

sun is so hot, the days contract to such an extent, that one of your

years here would be six there."

"What an unconscionable liar you are!" exclaimed the bailiff. "Heat

does not contract. On the contrary, it expands, which accounts for the

days being longer in summer than in winter. We Brandenburgers know

that very well."

He seized me by the collar, to drag me to prison, but I held back, and

said in a loud voice--loud enough for the crowd to hear:

"I tell you I am right; heat does contract. Just you sit on a hot

stove and see if your leather breeches don't shrivel up under you."

The crowd was on my side; but that trial in the market-place might

have resulted disastrously for me, had not a knight just then chanced

to ride that way. He wore on his head a plumed helmet; his body was

protected by a coat of mail. From his shoulders hung a crimson mantle,

on which was embroidered a large white cross. A heart-shaped shield

swung from the pommel of his saddle.

My eyes were at once attracted to this shield, on which were the

ensigns armorial: a mounted knight like himself, and on the same horse

a ragged pilgrim of a like pattern with myself.

"Ho, ho!" here interrupted the chair in triumph. "You may have been

able to hoodwink the Brandenburg bailiff, but you can't do the same

with me! You needn't try to make this court believe you saw anyone

wearing the coat-of-arms of an order that was abolished in the 14th

century."

"I know very well, your honor, that the order of the Templars was

abolished at the time you mention, but a portion of them took refuge

in Brandenburg, where the order exists to this day under the name of

'Dornenritter.'"

Having made this explanation, Hugo continued his confession:

At sight of the Templar a great commotion arose among the people

crowding the market-place; the women pressed toward him to kiss the

hem of his mantle, in their enthusiasm almost dragging him from the

saddle. The knight had red hair, and a long beard of the same fiery

hue.

"There is the red monk," said the bailiff to me. "Do you try to make

him believe you have been in Palestine? He has been there twice--once

by land and once by sea--and he has slaughtered more than two hundred

heathen and liberated thousands of pilgrims from slavery. Talk to

him; he will know how to question you."

I was in a fix, and no mistake. The knight would be sure at once to

detect the errors of my geography.

He rode quite close to me, passed his hand over his long beard and

examined me from head to foot with his keen eyes.

"Can you prove to me that you come from the Holy Land?" he asked in a

voice so stern and deep-toned it made me start and tremble.

But a lucky thought came to me; I had a convincing proof under my

arm--the old Turk's crutch, the shaft of which was closely wound with

brass wire in a fanciful pattern.

"Will you examine this, Sir Knight?" I said in reply--holding the

crutch toward him. "You, who are familiar with the Arabic characters,

will find here a record of my wanderings--the entire history of my

wretched captivity, and miraculous deliverance."

It was the knight's turn to start and tremble. I saw at once from his

countenance, that he knew no more about Arabic than--ah--than your

honor, and that he was afraid I might betray him, and prove to the

multitude that he had never trod the sacred soil of the Holy Land. The

hand he extended for the crutch trembled, but he preserved a bold

front, as he turned the brass-bound shaft around and around in his

fingers, and pretended to decipher the oriental characters. After

several minutes, he returned the crutch to me and said in an

impressive tone:

"This is indeed Arabic--or, rather, Saracenic, the language of

Turcomania. Your crutch, devout pilgrim, testifies to the truth of

everything you have told these good people. Come with me to my castle,

where you will be a welcome and honored guest."

Before he had quite concluded this speech, the bailiff had lost

himself in the crowd--he was nowhere to be seen.

I was hoisted to the shoulders of a pair of sturdy citizens, and,

accompanied by the shouting multitude, borne in triumph to the

Templars' castle, situated on a moat-encircled hill, a little distance

from the city.

Here, I was committed to the care of the guards on duty; they stripped

me of my rags; lifted me into a vat of water, scrubbed me thoroughly,

combed and shaved my head, and then put on me a scarlet habit of

coarse cloth, which, to judge from its ample proportions, must once

have garbed the form of a brother whose conditions of life had been

more fortunate than mine.

Attired thus, I was conducted to the refectory, where the red-bearded

knight and twelve of his companions were assembled.

"_Quadraginta tonitrua_, lad, you please me well!" exclaimed the

red-bearded knight, who seemed to be the leader. "Never, in all my

life, have I ever heard so glib a tongue at lying as yours! You must

stop here with us. The devil has taken our sacristan--that's his habit

you've got on--he died of small-pox yesterday."

You may imagine my feelings when I heard that I was wearing the

garment of a man that had succumbed to so loathsome a disease!

I made bold to say that I had never learned the duties requisite to

the office of a sacristan.

"_Per septem archidiabolos!_" merrily exclaimed the knight. "I believe

you. But, we will instruct you--never fear!"

Here he noticed the iron band on my neck and added: "Ha, _Lucifer te

corripiat_! Why do you wear that curious band around your neck?"

In reply I stammered something about a solemn vow, whereupon the

entire company burst into hearty laughter.

"_Ut Belsebub te submergat in paludes inferni, trifurcifer!_" bawled

the red knight. "Either you wear the band in pursuance of a

vow--solemn or otherwise--or it was forged on your neck in punishment

for a theft. If the former, then continue to wear it to the end of

your days; if the latter, then we have an armorer who will relieve you

of it in short order."

To this I made answer:

"Though I wear the iron band because of a solemn vow, the Sir Knights

may believe it is in punishment for a theft."

The merry company laughed again, and the armorer was summoned at once

to relieve me of the uncomfortable collar.

BAPHOMET.

I now believed I had ultimately attained what I most desired--a

comfortable position in a religious house, where I might pass the

remainder of my days in peace, and free from care. I should have no

further need to trouble about providing for food and drink, and the

where to lay my head. My duties were light; I had to ring the bell for

prayers three times daily; keep clean the church vessels, and take

care of all the vestments. All my time not occupied with these simple

tasks, I was permitted to devote to pious contemplation. I soon won

the confidence of Knight Elias, the red-bearded superior. I was named

Eliezer. It had taken me six months and more to beg my way through

Poland, consequently, Passion week began soon after my arrival at the

Templars' castle. I was apprehensive that I should not be able

adequately to perform the duties requisite for my office during the

solemn season, as I was not yet sufficiently familiar with the Roman

Catholic service, having only lately become a neophite. But, when I

confided my doubts to Knight Elias, he replied encouragingly:

"Don't you worry, Frater Eliezer, every night during the coming week

we shall rehearse scenes from the 'Passion Play,' which will make you

familiar with the services expected of you."

This assurance gave me confidence, and I looked forward with

impatience to Maundy-Thursday, as on the evening of that day the

preparations for the devotional ceremonies were to begin.

Maundy-Thursday arrived. In the evening, after I had closed and locked

the gates after vespers, Knight Elias bade me take a lamp, go to the

chapel, and wait there until the clock struck the hour of midnight,

when I should hear three taps on the door of the crypt. I was to open

the door without delay, receive with becoming respect the guests who

would appear, and obey every order they might give me. I did not

betray the astonishment I felt on receiving this very singular behest.

I never was what may be termed "faint-hearted." I dare say because my

curiosity always was superior to my timidity; and I confess I was most

curious to see what manner of guests would come out of the crypt.

The last stroke of twelve was followed by three raps on the crypt

door. I hastened to open it, and was amazed to find the stairway

leading to the tomb brilliantly lighted, and mounting it were a half

dozen or more female forms, clad in antique costumes--such as are seen

only in the canvases adorning the walls of churches and royal palaces.

All the women were highly rouged and powdered; one had her eyebrows

penciled with black; another with minium, and another had hers tinted

with gold. All carried in their hands gaily colored wax tapers. They

were not in the least like the ghosts I had expected to see; and I was

not in the least frightened of them either!

Young blood coursed through my veins then, and it flowed more swiftly

when my eyes rested on the beautiful visitors--even though they were

denizens of another world!

The ghosts saw at once that it was not the old sacristan who had

admitted them; and believed it necessary to introduce themselves. The

first one said:

"I am Jezebel, wife of King Ahab. Fetch the baptismal basin, I want to

perform my ablutions."

The second announced:

"I am Salome, daughter of Herodias. Bring me the golden ciborium."

The third said:

"I am Bathsheba. Bring the sacred oil, I want some for my hair."

The fourth:

"I am Delilah. Bring a chalice, I want a drink."

The fifth:

"I am Ashtoreth. Bring the censer, I want some perfume."

"I am Tamar," announced the sixth. "Bring a lachrymatory, I want to

fill it with my tears."

There were seven in the company. The seventh had on her head a crown,

and was clad in a robe of gold-brocade with a long train. "I am

Mylitta, Queen of Sheba," she announced in a voice that sounded like a

sweet-toned bell. "Bring me the pyx."

Now, although the rest of the orders had confounded me with their

impiety, I had obeyed them, because I had been commanded to do so.

This last, however, made me hesitate; I could not lay sacrilegious

hands on so holy a vessel.

I shuddered, and looked with horrified eyes at the commanding phantom.

Suddenly, she lifted her arm, and gave me a sound blow on the back, at

the same time screaming:

"Don't you hear me, dolt? I want the pyx." Feeling convinced that

further hesitation to obey this visitant from another world would not

be well for me, I went to the altar, and with a violently trembling

hand lifted the sacred vessel from its accustomed place and brought

it to the lady.

"Now, follow us," she commanded; and the procession from the crypt

passed on, I following in the rear, out of the chapel, up a winding

staircase, to a part of the castle I had not yet been in. We halted in

front of a gilded iron door; it opened in response to three raps, and

I saw into a long, magnificently furnished saloon. There were no

windows in it; a mysterious radiance shone from the niches in the

walk, which were hung with gold-embroidered silk.

As we crossed the threshold, a heavy curtain across the further end of

the saloon parted, and several male figures, garbed in old-time

costumes--Turkish, Roman, Persian, Chaldean and Egyptian--came to meet

the women, who greeted them thus:

"Welcome, Ahasuerus!"

"Baal greets you, Nebuchadnezzar!"

"Osiris, bless you, Pharaoh!" and so on, to Herod, Pilate, Nero,

Sardanapalus--in all of whom I recognized my sir knights. My

red-bearded patron answered to the name of Judas Iscariot. It was a

distinguished company!

The greetings between the knights and the ladies ever, my patron

turned toward me. I was standing near the door--and said:

"Malchus, come hither."

I looked around to see who Malchus might be, but finding no one near

me, guessed that I too had been given a name suitable for the

occasion--that of the chief priests' servant, who lifted his hand

against the Savior.

My patron's next words assured me that I had guessed correctly:

"If your ears have really been cut off, Malchus--which they must have

been, since you can't hear, we must ask Ben Hanotzri to fasten them to

your head again!"

I had not yet learned to whom they alluded when they mentioned that

name.

After his last speech to me, my patron took my hand and led me up to

the knight they called Nebuchadnezzar. He had strings of costly pearls

wound in his beard and hair--as one sees in ancient Persian statues,

and pictures.

"What has Malchus done that he deserves to be admitted to the service

of Baphomet?" he inquired.

My patron answered for me:

"He has been a heretic, an atheist, a thief, a murderer, a

counterfeiter, an adulterer--"

"The very man for us!" interrupted Nebuchadnezzar--and then I

understood why my welcome to the conventual residence had been so

cordial!

I was asked to take off my monk's habit, and given the dress of a

Roman lictor, in which character my first task was to remove the lid

from a sarcophagus that stood in a niche in the wall.

I was horrified when I saw that it contained a wax image of our

Savior, as He descended from the cross, with the five gaping wounds in

His body, and the crown of thorns on His head.

The knights gathered about the sarcophagus, and began a discussion, to

which I listened with fear and trembling. They spoke in Latin, and as

I am quite familiar with the language I understood every word.

One of the knights asserted, that Christ was an eon of the God-father,

Jaldabaoth, who had sent Him to the earth, as the Messiah of the

Pneumatici, and to vanquish his, Jaldabaoth's, arch-enemy,

Ophiomorpho; that Christ, having failed for want of courage to

accomplish the task, Jaldabaoth had allowed Him to be crucified in

punishment; all of which was satisfactorily proved by Valentinus, the

Gnostic. Another of the knights insisted, that Christ was an imposter,

as was verified by Basilides of Alexandria, and Bardesane; and that

His true name was Ben Jonah Hanotzri.

The earth seemed to sink from under my feet as I listened to this

blasphemous disputation. Though I am a wicked sinner, my reverence for

all things holy is boundless. I held my hands over my ears to shut out

the horrible words, but I could not help but hear some of them.

The third knight maintained that the whole story of Jesus Christ was a

myth--He had never been born--had never died. The entire legend was an

emblem, a symbol that, like Brahma, and Isis, had never possessed a

material body; and that all images of Him were idols, like those which

represented Basal, or Dagon.

I imagined that blasphemy could go no further; but the fourth knight

convinced me that even hyperbole may possess a superlative.

The fourth speaker was Nebuchadnezzar; _he_ declared he could prove

from the Scriptures, that Jesus Christ was that Demiurge, who tortures

mankind with laws; renders unhappy and wretched the dwellers on earth;

prohibits all things that are pleasant and agreeable to the senses;

commands man to do what is good for his fellows, though nature's laws

prompt him to do that which is best for himself--be it good or evil

for his neighbor. Consequently, it was the plain duty of every

sentient being to defy this Demiurge, to disobey the laws promulgated

by him; to practice, instead of refrain from: cheating, robbery,

murder, forgery, intemperance, gluttony, debauchery; and that whoever

it was that had imposed on mankind the yoke of bondage, the so-called

virtues--were he eon, Demiurge, Ben Jonah Hanotzri, or Jesus Christ,

deserved persecution, scourging, and crucifixion. "Who then," he

demanded in concluding his sacrilegious harangue, "is the true

Messiah?"

"Baphomet! Baphomet!" shouted the entire company of knights and ladies

as with one voice.

Nebuchadnezzar then beat with his fists on a large tam-tam, upon which

the curtain at the end of the saloon was drawn back, revealing a

platform on which were two statues, life-size. The one on the right

was Baphomet, with the two faces, one masculine, the other feminine. A

huge serpent was wound twelve times about the statue; on each of the

rings thus formed was engraved one of the twelve signs of the zodiac.

One hand held the sun; the other the moon; the feet rested on a

globe, that rested in turn on the back of a crocodile.

The other statue represented Mylitta. She was seated on a wild boar; a

crown of gleaming rubies and carbuncles adorned her brow. The knights

and ladies, one after the other, approached the statues, kissed the

shoulders of Baphomet, then the knees of Mylitta.

After this ceremony, they joined hands, forming a circle around the

images, and began to dance to a song they chanted in a tongue unknown

to me. Before the dance began, I was told to fill all the sacred

vessels with the wine contained in several large jars near the

entrance. This was drank from time to time in toasts to Baphomet and

his companion image.

If my horror was great, my curiosity was greater. I mastered the

former feeling, in order to see what would be the end of the

sacrilegious orgy.

The wine jars were soon emptied, and I was ordered by Iscariot to

refill them in the cellar. On my return to the saloon, I found the

company seated around the table; when I approached the Queen of Sheba

to refill the chalice, from which she was drinking, she said to me:

"Malchus, this crown of mine is so heavy; go down to the chapel and

fetch me the one from the head of the woman of Nazareth."

I went cold from crown to sole at this request.

There was in the chapel a beautiful image of our Lady, with a crown of

pearls and diamonds on her head--the gift of a pious princess. To this

image the devout folk of the surrounding region made pilgrimages on

holy days; and it was covered with all manner of costly gifts from the

grateful believers. And this was the "Woman of Nazareth," whose crown

I was ordered to fetch for the shameless wanton.

"Didn't you hear the lady's order?" bawled my rufous-bearded patron,

thumping the table with his mailed fist. "Go at once to the chapel and

fetch the crown."

If I had refused to obey I should have been killed; but I almost

fainted with horror while performing the errand. When I returned with

the jeweled crown to the hall of the worship of Baphomet, the demon of

licentious revelry had been loosed; the women, as well as the men,

were dancing with wild abandon. The Queen of Sheba snatched the crown

from my hand, adjusted it on her dishevelled locks, then returned to

the Phrygian dance, led by herself and Nebuchadnezzar; her hair stood

almost straight out from her head, as she whirled around and around,

so swiftly, that she and her partner seemed but one form with two

faces--like Baphomet whom they worshipped. After all had indulged in

the frantic revelry until they sank exhausted to the divans scattered

about the hall, I was ordered to collect the sacred vessels and return

them to the chapel, and then to go to my rest.

"He must drink with me before he goes," cried Ashtoreth.

"Here, Malchus!" she unloosed from her girdle a flask, and held it to

my lips. The flask was an exquisite piece of workmanship; it was made

of chased gold and richly set with Turkish fire opals.

"This wine, Malchus," continued the lady, "is the juice of the grape

planted by Noah. The stone jar in which it has been preserved for so

many centuries stands beside the sarcophagus of my grand-mother

Semiramis, in Nineveh--drink, it will do you good."

On my hesitating, she suddenly flung her arm around my neck, drew my

head close to her own, took a good pull from the flask, then pressed

her lips to mine, and forced me to swallow the wine from her mouth.

Never have I tasted a sweeter, a more intoxicating, more stupefying

liquor!

"Now drink," commanded the heathen queen, placing the flask in my

hand. I put it to my lips; but perceived at once that the wine had a

different taste from that I had received from her mouth. It was

bitter, and had a peculiar bouquet. I took only one swallow; but

pretended to send several more after the first one.

"You may keep the flask as a remembrance," said the lady when I handed

it back to her. She flung it among the church vessels I had collected

together in the baptismal basin, the better to carry them back to the

chapel.

I hurried from the saloon with my precious burden; carefully washed

all the vessels through three waters; then restored them to their

proper places in the chapel. When I had reverently placed the crown on

our Lady's head, I knelt at her feet, and penitently kissed the hem of

her robe.

"Now what shall I do with this thing?" I inquired of myself, surveying

the wine-flask in my hand. "Where shall I hide it for safe-keeping?

It is worth a deal of money. It would bring me enough to buy an acre

of ground, or a mill with five wheels. I'll just fasten it securely,

here under my lictor's cuirass for the present." I did so; then,

without heeding where I was, I lay down, and almost immediately fell

into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I don't know how long I slept; I was roused by some one shaking me

vigorously, and crying: "Wake up! wake up!"

"Yes, yes, Iscariot," I muttered sleepily, "I'll get up directly."

"O, Trifurcifer!" exclaimed a familiar voice; "the wretch calls me

Iscariot! Just wait, you drunken rogue! I'll sober you!"

The thorough drenching I received from the large can of water thrown

over me, brought me to my senses.

"Well, my pious Silenus!" growled the knight. "You are a fine fellow

to set on guard, aren't you? I order you to keep watch outside the

door of the crypt until midnight, and find you the next morning lying

inside the cellar door, with your mouth under an open faucet. We were

obliged to carry you up here--not knowing whether you were alive or

dead."

"Where--where is the costly flask Ashtoreth gave me?" I asked, feeling

in vain about my body for the souvenir bestowed on me by the heathen

queen. There was neither flask nor leather cuirass, only the old

coarse habit I had inherited from my predecessor in office.

"Come--come," angrily exclaimed the knight, shaking me again. "Stop

dreaming, and hasten to the chapel; it is time to ring the bell for

mass."

I could hardly bring myself to believe that it was only a dream--it

seemed so real, but I could find no trace of midnight revelry

anywhere--indeed, I could not find the winding staircase, which I had

ascended from the chapel to the hall of the worship of Baphomet. And

yet I doubted.

The chapel was filled at mass with devout worshippers. A solemn scene

was when the knights, garbed in coarse gray habits, and bare-footed,

crept on hands and knees to the stone coffin, in which lay a waxen

image of our Lord. They kissed the marble steps leading to the

platform on which the coffin stood, and when I saw them gather about

the holy image, my dream seemed so real that, in my excitement, I

would have cried in a loud voice to the kneeling congregation:

"People! Christians! rise--rise! do not kneel in the presence of these

blasphemers!" had not the white dove on my shoulder pressed her wings

against my lips.

Then the rich tones of the organ filled the chapel; and the women's

voices chanting the "Miserere" sounded so familiar--exactly like those

I had heard in my dream, singing bacchanalian songs--that I said to

myself: "That is Ashtoreth's voice--that is Delilah's, and that

deep-toned contralto is Jezebel's!" Again I saw the singers emerge

from the crypt and move toward the winding stair-case. Ah! it was a

dream after all! There was no winding staircase. Where I had seen the

open door, which gave egress to it, was a blank wall; and against it

the massive marble monument of the grand master, Arminius, who was

represented by a recumbent knight in full pontificals, with hands

devoutly crossed on his breast.

Yes, it was only a dream!

My heart was relieved of a heavy weight. It was such a relief to feel

certain that I had not taken the jeweled crown from our blessed Lady's

head; and that the Queen of Sheba had not worn it while dancing in

adoration of an idol.

When the services were concluded, and I approached the image of our

Lady, to replenish the oil in the perpetual lamp at her feet, the

doubts as to my having dreamed the scenes of the bacchanalian revelry

came back in full force; some one had been tampering with the jeweled

crown on the head of the sacred image--it had been turned around!

There was a pearl in front of the diadem, and a ruby in the back--both

as large as a hazel-nut. Today, the ruby gleamed like a coal of fire,

where always before the radiance of the pearl had vied with the pure

whiteness of the waxen brow. The crown had been reversed--I had not

dreamed after all!

This day was, as I have mentioned before, Good Friday--the day of

universal fasting. The knights' observance of the day was so rigid

that they would not even administer to a dying novice the medicines

necessary to alleviate his suffering, because they were composed of

manna and hydromel, both of which, containing nutriment, were

considered food. Even I fasted the entire day--of a necessity,

though, for there was nothing served in the refectory!

My elastic conscience would have permitted me to partake--sparingly,

of course!--of food; and I regretted that I had not possessed the

forethought to lay aside from the banquet of the preceding night (if

it really had not been a dream) the legs of a three thousand-year-old

quail!

But, had I done so, they would doubtless have vanished with the pretty

flask given me by the heathen queen. When I made my duty-rounds as

usual on Good Friday evening, I found my red-bearded patron waiting

for me in the sacristy. He said to me:

"This evening, Malchus, you will watch as before at the door of the

crypt--but see that you stop there, and keep awake! Don't let me find

you again in the cellar tomorrow morning."

I said to myself: "I shall be very sure not to go to sleep this time!"

The guests arrived earlier this evening. The clock in the tower had

not yet ceased striking eleven, when the three knocks sounded on the

crypt door.

The ancient beauties did not think it necessary to introduce

themselves as before, but they gave me the same orders for the sacred

vessels.

When I moved toward the altar, in obedience to the Queen of Sheba's

behest, she called after me: "Don't look back, Malchus; if you do

Satan will fly away with you!"

I did not look backward; I had no need. When I held the gold lid of

the chalice in front of me, it served the same purpose as a mirror,

and in it I saw Jezebel walk up to the Arminius monument, lay her hand

against the head of the recumbent statue, and thrust it to one side,

whereupon the entire mass of marble swung noiselessly forward,

revealing an opening in the wall through which I saw a winding

staircase.

Pretending not to have seen anything, or to notice anything unusual in

the opening in the wall, I followed the ladies up the stair with the

articles they bade me bring after them.

The long table in Baphomet's hall was again loaded with all sorts of

eatables: baked meats, pastry, sweets, fruits. "Meats!" I exclaimed to

myself, "meats on Good Friday, when all Christians, even the

Calvinists, fast and read their prayer-books to find consolation for

their souls and forgetfulness for their stomachs!" And what a feast it

was! One might well have believed that hosts and guests had not eaten

anything for two or three thousand years! Had I been endowed with the

hands of an Aegeon I could not have supplied the viands and wine as

rapidly as the hungry and thirsty revelers demanded them of me. I

seemed to be continually running to, or returning from, the

wine-cellar.

Similar scenes to those enacted the preceding night followed the

banquet; only with variations one would hardly believe the human mind

capable of inventing.

The Queen of Sheba was even more reckless and abandoned than before;

she ordered me to bring her the mantle from the shoulders of the

"Woman of Nazareth." I hesitated again to perform the sacrilegious

errand, but a sound blow on my back from Iscariot's fist sent me

hurrying to the chapel.

When I returned with the mantle the queen was in need of it, for she

was not to be distinguished from the nude goddess on the back of the

wild boar. I was so ashamed for her, I could not lift my eyes when I

handed her the mantle. Ashtoreth laughed heartily at me, and

exclaimed:

"Here, Malchus, I will drink to Baphomet from this flask; then you

shall drink to me."

She drank first, then handed the flask to me; it was the same one she

had presented to me the night before.

I had learned something since then! I knew there were trick flasks

with two compartments, which might contain two different kinds of

liquor without becoming mixed. If the neck of the flask were turned to

the right, one of the compartments would be opened; the contents of

the other would flow, were the neck turned to the left.

When the heathen queen placed the flask to her lips I had watched her

closely, and had seen that her wrist turned slightly to the right.

This movement I took good care to copy when I drank, and, as I had

guessed, the wine was deliciously sweet.

I took a good, long pull before removing the flask from my lips.

"Very good wine, isn't it?" observed Ashtoreth.

"A trifle bitter," I replied, making a wry face, upon which she

filliped my nose with her finger, and exclaimed, laughingly:

"You don't know what is good, Malchus! The wine in this flask is some

of that left from the marriage feast at Cana. You may keep this flask,

too; put it with the one I gave you last night."

This remark set the entire blasphemous crew into a roar of merriment.

"You may remove these vessels now," said Nebuchadnezzar, when the

laughter had subsided, "and fetch us some _spiritus vini_."

I removed the unclean church vessels and brought from the cellar a

large stone jug of _spiritus vini_. The simple juice of the grape was

not strong enough for the drunken demons; they wanted the more fiery

brandy.

An idea came into my head as I was going to the cellar. The _spiritus

vini_ was made in Russia; the mouths of the jugs containing it were

sealed so skillfully that only those persons who understood the secret

could remove the cork. I had learned this secret while with the

haidemaken.

I opened the jug in the cellar, poured out some of the brandy, and

filled it up with the drugged wine in the flask intended for me. Then

I sealed up the jug and took it to the banquet hall.

"Did you drink any of it?" demanded the knight whom the rest called

Herod, when I set the jug on the table.

"I swear by Baphomet I did not!" I replied truthfully.

"Then open the jug," commanded Pilate.

I made believe to pull and tug and twist the cork--I could not remove

it from the neck. At last Ahab snatched the jug impatiently from my

hands, and after trying in vain for several moments to accomplish

what I had failed to do, he set it in a silver basin and struck at the

neck with his sword. The jug was broken, of course, and the liquor

filled the basin. Then, Bathsheba and Tamar flung into it figs,

raisins and orange peel; Delilah took a lighted taper from the

candelabra and set fire to the huge dish of crambamboli; at the same

moment all the other lights in the hall were extinguished.

Nebuchadnezzar now began to ladle out the burning liquor into goblets

which he passed to the rest of the company. The flame dispensing king,

with his four horns, the fire-sipping forms around him, their faces

blanched to a death-like pallor by the green-blue light of the burning

brandy, formed a group that excelled in hideousness every illustration

I had yet seen of the _danse macabre_.

I fled in horror and disgust from the infernal orgy, fully convinced

that I was not dreaming this time. I was determined to make my escape

from the abode of demons and idol worshippers.

I said to myself: "If these human beings--that they are not phantoms I

am convinced--came to the castle through the crypt, then I, another

human being, may go out the way they entered."

I took my lamp, descended to the crypt, and discovered that one of the

memorials, which lined the walls, had been shoved to one side. An

examination of this memento to a deceased knight revealed that it was

not a slab of marble, but a sheet of tin painted to imitate the more

solid material. Nor was the niche it covered a tomb, but the outlet

to a narrow stairway that ascended in steep spirals from the crypt,

opposite to the one which descended to it from the chapel.

[Illustration: "I took my lamp, descended to the crypt"]

I mounted seventeen steps, when further progress was barred by a

statue--that of Saint Sebastian. The heroic martyr was represented

bound to a tree, his body filled with arrows, as he had appeared when

being tortured to death by the commands of the godless Diocletian.

I had seen this statue often enough by day in the reception-hall of

the castle; then it stood in its niche face toward the room; here, at

the head of the secret stairway from the crypt, it stood with its face

also toward me. "Surely," said I to myself, "St. Sebastian must know

something about the secret outlet."

And he did.

I began to examine the niche; then the statue. I noticed that three of

the arrows in the breast were brass, and that the one in the middle

was brighter than the other two, as if it had been taken hold of

frequently. I mounted the pedestal, and, with one arm around the saint

to steady myself, I tried to turn the brighter arrow. After a little,

it yielded to the pressure of my hand, and the statue, as well as the

niche, began to turn slowly on an unseen axis, and in a few moments I

saw the starlit sky above me.

Then I turned the arrow in the opposite direction, and found myself

returned to my prison. I had solved the mystery of the phantoms'

appearance in the chapel! I returned to the chapel and examined the

mechanism concealed under the Arminius monument. What would be the

result, I asked myself, if I turned the head of the grand master back

to its proper position?

I did so, and the monument swung back to its place, concealing the

entrance to the hall of Baphomet.

By this time the blasphemers in the hall were sound asleep, and heaven

alone knew when they would waken! And when they did, they would not be

able to get out of their Satan's temple, for it had neither door nor

windows.

No one would know what had become of them--whither they had gone. When

they found a way out of their prison--if ever--I should be far enough

away over mountain and valley!

I sketched a rapid plan of escape: I would go to the Archbishop of

Aix-la-Chapelle and lay information against the knights of Baphomet;

and, in order to gain credence for my story, I would take with me the

desecrated church vessels. No devout Christian should drink again from

the chalice defiled by the lips of Salome and Delilah; should have his

offspring christened from the basin polluted by Nebuchadnezzar; should

receive the holy water from the aspergill, defiled by being used to

stir the infernal mixture concocted by Tamar and Bathsheba; not one of

the vessels should be used again, until they had been thoroughly

cleansed and re-consecrated by the proper authorities.

"A most praiseworthy determination! You proved yourself a true

Christian!" exclaimed the prince, deeply incensed by the impiety of

the _dornenritter_, the mere hearing of whose licentious conduct made

a godly man feel the need of absolution. "You did what any honest and

respectable Christian would have done in your place!"

"Didn't I say so?" in triumph exclaimed the mayor, beating the table

with his staff. "Didn't I say the rascal would talk himself out of the

church robbery? Instead of sentencing him for the crime, he is

commended for it."

Hereupon the prince and the mayor became involved in so animated a

dispute that each sprang from his chair and begun to pound with his

fists on the table with such vigor that the candle-sticks, ink-horn

and sand-box danced quite a lively jig.

The argument continued until his highness suddenly remembered what was

becoming to his dignity; then he rapped the court to order and

announced that the hearing was adjourned until the next day.

* * * * *

The following morning Hugo resumed his confession:

I found a stout leather bag in the sacristy, into which I put all the

church vessels of gold and silver which had been defiled in the

bacchanalian orgies. I did not forget the Virgin's diadem, either.

My left shoulder ached dreadfully under the heavy load, but, because

the white dove I told you about was perched on the other shoulder, I

would not shift the bag from side to side, which would have made it

easier to carry. The revolving Saint Sebastian enabled me to escape

from the castle, but I still had a high bastion to scale. I found the

rope ladder by means of which the women had climbed over, and very

soon I was on the high road, travelling as swiftly as I could for the

heavy bag, toward the harbor--

"Hold!" interrupted the chair, "I've caught you at last! If what you

have told us is true, why didn't you go at once with the bag of church

property to the burgomaster of the city, and tell him of your

discovery at the castle? The impious revellers might have been taken

into custody that same night."

"Yes--yes--" the prince made haste to add, "why didn't you do that,

instead of thinking it necessary to escape on a ship?"

"I believe I can explain my action to the satisfaction of the

high-born gentlemen," deferentially responded the prisoner. "You will

understand at once why I wanted to take a ship, when I tell you the

name of the city. It was Stettin. It was in possession, at that time,

of Gustavus Adolphus, whose heretic generals cared very little whether

the Blessed Virgin or Baphomet were worshipped in the Catholic

churches, which had already been desecrated more than once by

themselves. Indeed, the relations between the knights and the heretics

was most friendly, because the former had joined forces with the

Swedes, and had fought bravely against the imperial beleaguerers. They

were loyal comrades in arms with the heretics. That is why I deemed it

wiser to escape from the city--"

"And you were right--quite right!" with unmistakable approval in his

tone, commented the prince. "The Swedish heretics were not the proper

authorities to settle so sacred and important a matter. The _furtum

sacrosanctorum_ may be stricken from the list of indictments."

"As may all that follow!" growled the mayor into his beard. "Now we

shall hear how this innocent criminal disposes of the _homicidium_!"

PART V.

THE HOMICIDE.

CHAPTER I.

ON BOARD MYNHEER'S SHIP.

A convincing proof of my honest and pious intentions is, that

notwithstanding I was in great need of money--I hadn't a penny to my

name!--it never occurred to me to help myself from the alms-box at the

door of the chapel, which, at such seasons like Passion Week, was

always well filled.

I had no "motive" to carry the box with me--it had not been defiled by

sacrilegious hands.

I still wore the dress in which I had masqueraded as a lictor: the

Roman balten, the leathern caliga, the chalizeh sandals with straps,

and the ancient Hebrew pallium. Anywhere else in the civilized world a

man garbed as I was would have been arrested as a vagabond lunatic;

but I was not molested in Stettin.

That city, under Swedish domination, was a free port; the mouth of the

Oder was crowded with vessels of all sorts, from all countries. The

quay swarmed with negroes, Spaniards, Turks, Chinese--all

nationalities, all the costumes of the globe were represented.

Consequently no one, however striking may have been his garb, would

have attracted special attention. Nor did I, as I passed through the

crowd in search of a vessel that was lifting her anchor, preparatory

to sailing at once.

Chance led me to a Dutch ship.

The owner of the craft, Mynheer Ruissen, paid no attention to me until

after we were out of the harbor, and were scudding before a favorable

wind. Then, as he was passing along the deck, his eyes fell on me,

where I was sitting near the rail, with my bag by my side.

He stopped in front of me, thrust his hands into the pockets of his

coat, and, after a moment's close scrutiny, addressed me in a language

I had never heard before. He tried several different tongues--oriental

by their sound--with the same result. I could only indicate by shaking

my head that I did not understand him. At last he became impatient,

and exclaimed in Flemish:

"Potztausend-wetter! What language does this fellow speak, I wonder?"

I understood him then, and told him I could speak Dutch, and that I

was not a heathen from the Orient, but a native of Europe, and a

Christian like himself.

"And where are you going, may I ask?"

"Wherever your ship will take me," I answered.

"Have you the money to pay for your passage?"

"Not a solitary batz."

"Have you anything of value?"

"I have a beautiful golden flask set with precious gems, which I will

give you as a pledge, or in payment--as you prefer."

"Did you come by it honestly?"

"I will take my oath that I did not steal it. A beautiful woman gave

it to me as a souvenir. May I sink with this ship to the bottom of the

sea, if every word I tell you is not true!"

"Na, Na,! you needn't mind swearing in that way," hastily interposed

Mynheer. "I don't want my ship to go to the bottom of the sea! Is the

flask worth enough to pay for your passage to Hamburg?"

"It would fetch more than your whole ship!"

He paused a moment, then asked again:

"What have you got in that bag?"

"Gold and silver vessels, and jewels."

"Are they souvenirs too? There, there, you needn't mind swearing

again! I won't arrest you--it's no concern of mine how you came by

them."

I told him then that if he would take me to his private cabin, I would

tell him how I came to have the valuables in my possession.

He led me to his cabin, where he bade me place the leather bag in the

corner. Then he ordered one mug of beer to be brought; filled a

porcelain pipe--about the size of a thimble--with tobacco, thrust the

stem between his lips, but did not light it--I dare say, because he

feared it might burn out before he had emptied the beer mug, from

which he took an occasional sip while I was telling him my story.

When I had told him of the scandalous scenes in the castle, and of my

escape with the denied vessels, which I had decided to take to the

archbishop, Mynheer removed the pipe from his lips, deliberately

knocked the tobacco into the palm of his hand and emptied it into the

tobacco-pouch. Then he drained the last sip of beer from the mug,

thrust his hands into his pockets and said:

"Well, my son, you have acted cleverly, and stupidly at the same time.

To fetch the things away with you, was clever--very! But, to decide

that you--by yourself--a poor unknown devil, would be believed by the

archbishop, when you accused so powerful an order as the

_Dornenritter_ of blasphemy and sacrilege, was stupid in the extreme.

Nobody will believe your story; you will be ridiculed, and told that

you dreamed all these things."

"But," I interposed, "how could I have dreamed things, no living being

ever saw with his eyes, or heard with his ears? How could I have

dreamed the Baphomet worship? How could I have dreamed names like

Jaldabaoth and Ophiomorpho, and that disquisition around the

sarcophagus?"

"Why, you stupid lad! Don't you see they will say you have been

reading the secret pamphlet which was published by the opponents of

the Ancient Order of Templars? But, what was permitted to King Philip

will not be tolerated in you; you will not be allowed to tell stories

about Baphomet idolatry, and serpent worship. And, suppose you are

allowed to tell what you 'saw with your eyes and heard with your

ears'--you have no witness to prove that what you say is true."

"Oh, haven't I?" I cried, triumphantly producing from the leather bag

the pyx with its contents. "Here is my witness: this sacred wafer,

defiled by the idol-worshippers. See! here in the center of it, is the

print of Ashtoreth's slipper heel, where she trod it under foot. You

see, it is directly over the banner of the _Agnus Dei_?"

Mynheer deliberately adjusted his large spectacles on the bridge of

his nose, and scrutinized the wafer.

"_Donnerwetter_!" he growled, "you are right, lad, this is the symbol

of Baphomet: a half-moon, a double-headed serpent curved to form the

figure 8. Hm, hm--you have acted in a praiseworthy manner after all!

By bringing this wafer with you, you have saved the souls of many

devout Christians from eternal damnation, in that you have hindered

them from kneeling in adoration today at mass before this symbol of

Baphomet! Indeed, half Stettin will owe thanks to you if, instead of

damnation, it wins salvation! Your brave and valiant deed will save

from the flames of hell at least twelve thousand souls! Therein lies

the wisdom of your action; the unwisdom will come to the fore when you

ask yourself: 'What shall I do with these desecrated vessels?'

"You thought to arraign an entire order--nay, two, for those wanton

females must belong to an order of some sort. To accuse a religious

body is always extremely dangerous--specially so, if the order be

composed of women. I am afraid it will result in your ruin; you will

most likely be arrested for stealing church property--the punishment

for which is death at the stake. What will your word be worth against

the denials of the knights? Do you imagine that any trace of their

scandalous revelry will be found? Not by a good deal! You will be

pronounced a wicked calumniator; unless you want them to cut off your

tongue, you will keep it silent between your teeth!"

"Then what shall I do with these things?" I asked in perplexity,

giving the bag a thrust with my foot. "Shall I take them back to the

castle?--"

"That"--interrupted Mynheer--"would be the stupidest thing you could

do. The sir knights would, beyond a doubt, have you walled into some

corner of the castle, where you might await the resurrection with what

patience you could summon!"

"Then, what would you advise me to do?" I asked again.

"Well, my son, _I_ say, that what you have in your possession belongs

to you; accept it as the gift of heaven--though you acquired it from

Satan. When we get to Hamburg I will direct you where to find an

honest man whose business it is to relieve pious folk of any treasure

they may have taken from Satan--or, found where it was not lost. I am

acquainted with a Christian of that sort; you need not be afraid to

trust him--he is honest as a Quaker, and would not cheat anyone--on

Sunday! I think I may trust you to dispose of your treasure as

cleverly as you--appropriated it, which, after all, is the chief

secret of trade!"