I MEET THE COUNTESS.
Following Sperver, who climbed the staircase at a rapid pace, I was able
to convince myself that the Castle of Nideck merited its reputation. It
was a true stronghold, cut out of the rock; a relic of feudal times. Its
high, deep archways reechoed the sound of our steps, and the wind
blowing through the loopholes caused the flame of the torches which were
fastened at intervals along the wall to flare and flicker and send our
giant shadows dancing along the corridor. Sperver knew every nook and
cranny of this vast place; he turned many times to right and left, and
I followed him, out of breath. At last he stopped on a large landing,
and said to me:
"I will leave you with the people of the Castle for a moment, Gaston,
while I go to inform the young Countess Odile of your arrival."
"Very good; do whatever you think suitable."
"You will find among the domestics, our majordomo, Tobias Offenloch, an
old soldier of the regiment of Nideck. In former days he made a campaign
in Germany under the Count."
"A good fellow, no doubt."
"You will also see his wife, a Frenchwoman, named Marie Lagoutte, who
pretends to come of good family."
"And why not?"
"To be sure; only, between ourselves, she was nothing but a
canteen-woman of Soubise's army. One day she brought us in Tobias
Offenloch on her cart, minus one leg, and the poor fellow married her
out of gratitude; you understand."
"Precisely; but open the door,--I am freezing!" I tried to push past
him, but Sperver, obstinate, like all good Germans, was bound to
enlighten me as to the people into whose presence I was about to enter,
and seizing me by the frogs of my greatcoat, he continued:
"Then there is Sebalt Kraft, the master of the hounds, a sad sort of
chap, but without an equal in sounding the horn; Karl Trumpf, the
butler; Christian Becker, and all our people, if they haven't all gone
to bed."
Thereupon Sperver pushed open the door, and I stood surprised on the
threshold of a high, dark hall, the former guardroom of Nideck. I took
in at a glance the three windows at the further end of the room, that
dominated the precipice; on the right a sort of sideboard of old oak,
browned by age, and on it a small cask, glasses, and bottles; on the
left a Gothic chimney with a broad mantel-shelf empurpled by the blazing
fire underneath, and ornamented in front and on the sides by carvings
representing the various scenes of a boar hunt in the Middle Ages; and
finally, in the centre of the room, a long table upon which stood a huge
lamp, its light reflected by a dozen mugs with pewter lids.
All this I saw at a glance, but it was the people that interested me
most. I recognized at once the majordomo with his wooden leg; a small,
square, thick-set man, with a ruddy face, and prominent waistband, and a
nose of marvellous brilliancy. He wore an enormous hemp-colored wig,
with a long pigtail, a coat of apple-green plush with steel buttons as
large as a five-franc piece, velvet breeches, blue silk stockings, and
shoes with silver buckles. He was about to turn the spigot of the cask;
an air of inexpressible satisfaction beamed upon his rubicund face, and
his eyes, starting slightly from his head, glowed in profile like a pair
of watch glasses. His wife, the worthy Marie Lagoutte, dressed in a gown
of woolen stuff with a large flowered pattern, and her thin face the
color of a withered apple, was playing cards with two servants, all
three seated in straight-backed armchairs. Some small split pegs pinched
the olfactory organ of the old woman and that of another player, while
the third was winking slyly and seemed to enjoy seeing his opponents
subjugated beneath this new variety of Caudine Forks.
"How many cards?" he was asking them.
"Two," replied the old woman.
"And you, Christian?"
"Two."
"Ah, ha! I've got you! Cut the king; now the ace. Ha, ha, ha! Another
peg, mother; this will teach you once more to boast to us of your French
games!"
"Master Christian, you don't treat the fair sex with due respect."
"When we play cards, we respect nobody."
"But you see, I have no room for any more."
"Pshaw! with a nose like yours, there's always room enough."
At this moment Sperver cried, "Here I am, comrades!"
"Ha, Gideon! back so soon?"
Marie Lagoutte made haste to shake off her numerous pegs with a motion
of her head; the big majordomo emptied his glass, and everybody turned
to look at us.
"Is the Count better?"
"Hum!" exclaimed the majordomo, drawing down his under-lip.
"Is his condition unchanged?"
"Just about," answered Marie Lagoutte, who never took her eyes off me.
Sperver noticed this.
"Let me present to you my foster-son, Monsieur de la Roche, from
Tuebingen," he said proudly. "Things will change now in the Castle,
Master Tobie; now that Gaston has come, this cursed malady will be put
to flight. If we could only have found him out sooner! However, better
late than never."
Marie Lagoutte was still watching me, and the examination seemed to
satisfy her, for, turning to the majordomo, "Come, come, Monsieur
Offenloch! Stir yourself," she said; "offer monsieur the doctor a chair!
You sit there with your mouth open like a great carp!"
With these words, the good woman sprang up as though moved by a spring,
and came to help me off with my greatcoat.
"Permit me, monsieur."
"You are very good, my dear woman."
"Hand it to me, monsieur. Such weather! Ah, monsieur, what a country
this is!"
"So our master is neither better nor worse," continued Sperver, shaking
the snow from his cap. "We are here in time. Ho! Kasper! Kasper!"
A little man with a drooping shoulder, indicating a partial paralysis of
his frame, and a face liberally sprinkled with freckles, came out of the
chimney-corner.
"Here I am."
"Good! You must prepare for the doctor the chamber at the end of the
long gallery,--Hugh's chamber. You know which one."
"Yes, Sperver. I will see to it at once."
"One moment! You will take the doctor's valise with you as you go.
Knapwurst will give it to you. As to supper--"
"Never fear; I will take care of all that."
"Very good."
The little man went out, and Gideon, after throwing off his cape, left
us to go and inform the young Countess of my arrival. I was somewhat
embarrassed by the attentions of Marie Lagoutte.
"Come, up with you, Sebalt!" she said to the master of the hounds; "you
ought to be sufficiently roasted by this time, sprawling there since
morning. Sit down by the fire, Monsieur Doctor; your feet must be cold.
Stretch out your legs; that's the way." Then, after a minute: "You have
come just in time; our master had his second attack yesterday, and it
was a terrible one; hey, Master Offenloch?"
"Terrible is just the word," replied the majordomo gravely.
"Nor is it to be wondered at, when a man takes no nourishment; and he
eats nothing, monsieur. Fancy, it is two days since he has taken so much
as a bowl of broth."
"Or a glass of wine," added Tobie, crossing his fat hands on his
comfortable waistband.
I felt it incumbent upon me to express some surprise, so I shook my
head; whereupon the majordomo came over and sat down on my right,
saying, "Take my advice, doctor, and prescribe a bottle of Marcobrunner
every day."
"And a chicken wing at each meal," added Marie Lagoutte; "the poor man
is as thin as a ghost."
"We have some Marcobrunner sixty years old, and Johannisberg of the year
'14; for Villars's fellows didn't drink it all, as Madame Offenloch
would have it. You might prescribe now and then a glass of Johannisberg;
there is nothing like it to set a man on his feet."
"There was a time," said the master of the hounds in a melancholy tone,
"there was a time when our master went on the hunt twice a week, and he
was well; now that he has stopped, he is ill."
"That is reasonable enough," observed Marie Lagoutte; "the fresh air
gave him an appetite. The doctor should order him three hunts a week to
make up for lost time."
"Two would do," replied the master of the hounds dismally; "two would
do. The dogs must have some time to rest. They must be considered as
well as we."
A few moments of silence succeeded, during which I could hear the wind
rattling the windows and whistling boisterously through the loopholes
and along the empty halls. Sebalt had crossed his legs, and with his
elbow on his knee supporting his chin, he gazed into the fire with
unspeakable gloominess. Marie Lagoutte refreshed herself with a pinch of
snuff, and I was reflecting on that strange infirmity that leads us to
press our advice on others, whether they desire it or not, when the
majordomo rose, and leaning over the back of my chair, said:
"Will you have a glass of wine, doctor?"
"Thank you, but I never drink before visiting a patient."
"What, not even one small glass?"
"Not even a tiny glass."
He opened his eyes very wide, and looked with astonishment at his wife.
"Monsieur the doctor is right," she said; "I am of his opinion; I prefer
to drink with my meals and take a glass of cognac afterwards. In my
country, the women drink cognac; it is more genteel than kirschwasser."
Marie Lagoutte had hardly finished this explanation, when Sperver opened
the door part way, and motioned me to follow him. I nodded a farewell to
the worthy company, and as I stepped into the passage, I heard Tobie's
wife saying to him, "He is a nice-looking young man. He would have made
a fine soldier!" Sperver looked uneasy; he said nothing. I too was
thoughtful.
A few steps beneath the shadowy arches of the Castle served completely
to efface from my mind the grotesque figures of Tobie and Marie
Lagoutte,--poor, inoffensive creatures, living like bats under the
vulture's powerful wing. Soon Gideon threw open the door of a sumptuous
apartment, hung with violet-colored velvet worked in gold. A bronze
lamp, resting on a corner of the mantelpiece, and covered with a globe
of ground crystal, vaguely lighted up the room. Thick rugs deadened the
sound of our footsteps. It seemed like a refuge consecrated to silence
and meditation.
On entering, Sperver lifted the heavy draperies that concealed a turret
window. I saw him gaze earnestly into the plain beneath, and I divined
his thoughts; he was looking to see if the witch were still there,
crouching in the snow,--but he could see nothing, for the night was
dark. As I moved forward into the room, I made out, by the pale rays of
the lamp, a young woman of girlish figure seated in an armchair, her
forehead resting in her hand, and her whole attitude one of patient but
despairing sorrow. Her back was slightly turned towards us, and for this
reason I could not at first see her face.
But at the rustle of our entrance she rose quickly, and exhibited to my
gaze the most beautiful presence I had ever beheld. The tall, stately
figure, the ideal formation of the features, the glory of golden hair
that fell about the fair, white neck, the deep, lustrous eyes that
bespoke a soul as pure and beautiful as the scenes among which it
flourished,--everything about the young mistress of the Castle
proclaimed her to be of that noble type which we meet with but once, if
at all, in a lifetime. Just what my feelings were at sight of this
beautiful young woman I know not, but certain it is that they were of a
nature hitherto unknown to me, and I felt a strange sense of harmony and
contentment within me as my glance continued to rest upon her.
After a moment the Countess advanced, and said simply, "You are welcome,
monsieur;" then, motioning towards the alcove where the Count lay, she
added, "There is my father."
I bowed low, and without reply,--such was my agitation,--I approached
the couch of the sick man. Sperver, standing at the head of the bed,
held the lamp in his raised hand, and the light, softened by the crystal
globe, fell palely upon the face of the Count. Odile remained near me,
waiting anxiously for my first word.
At the first glance I was struck with the strange physiognomy of the
Lord of Nideck, and in contrast to the admiration that his daughter had
inspired within me, my first thought was, "He is an old wolf!" And in
truth, his head bristling with gray hair and swelling behind the ears;
his long, pointed face and receding forehead; his narrow eyes and shaggy
eyebrows that met in a point over the bridge of his nose, imperfectly
shading the dull, cold eye beneath; his short, stiff beard, spreading
unevenly over his bony jaws,--in short, everything about the man made me
shudder, and brought involuntarily to my mind the oft-alleged affinities
between man and the brute creation.
I mastered my repugnance, and raised the arm of the sick man. It was
wasted and tremulous, the hand small and wiry. The pulse was rapid,
fluttering and feverish, indicating intense nervous excitement. What was
I to do? I considered. On one side stood the young Countess, anxiously
awaiting an expression of my opinion; on the other, Sperver, trying to
read my thoughts and following attentively my slightest movement. A
painful restraint was thus imposed upon me.
However, I saw that no decided step could be undertaken as yet. I
dropped the arm, and listened to the breathing. From time to time,
something like a sob escaped the sick man's breast; then the respiration
became normal again; then faster, and finally, labored. Some sort of
nightmare oppressed him. But the cause!--this I must determine first,
and I must confess it seemed hopeless enough. I turned round, sorely
perplexed.
"Is there any hope, monsieur?" asked the young woman.
"Yesterday's crisis is drawing to a close, mademoiselle. We must seek to
ward off the next attack."
"Is that a possible thing?"
I was about to reply in some scientific generalities, not daring to
commit myself, when the distant sound of the Castle bell fell upon our
ears.
"Strangers," said Sperver.
There was a moment of silence.
"Go and see who it is," said Odile, whose brow was shadowed with
anxiety. "How can we be hospitable at such times? It is impossible."
Just then the door opened, and a yellow head and rosy cheeks appeared in
the shadow, whispering, "The Baron Zimmer, accompanied by his servant,
asks for shelter in the Castle. He has lost his way in the mountains."
"Very well, Gretchen," replied the Countess quietly; "go and tell
Offenloch to attend to the wants of the strangers. Tell him to inform
the Baron Zimmer that the Count is very ill, and that this alone
prevents him from doing the honors of the house in person. Wake up our
people, and see that he is properly waited on and that everything is
suitably done."
It would be difficult to describe the well-born simplicity with which
the young mistress of the Castle gave her orders, and I reflected that
if an air of nobility seems inherent in some families, it is certainly
because the discharge of hospitable and charitable duties tends to
elevate the character and ennoble the soul.
All this passed through my mind while I was admiring the gentle glance,
the distinguished carriage, and the exquisitely cut features of Odile of
Nideck,--that purity of outline only to be met with in the realms of
aristocracy,--and I tried in vain to recall anything comparable to her
in my recollection.
"Make haste, Gretchen! Don't keep the travellers waiting," said the
young Countess.
"Yes, madame."
The servant departed, and I stood for a few moments unable to dispel the
charm of my meditations. Odile turned and addressed me.
"You see, monsieur," she said with a sad smile, "we are not allowed to
indulge our grief; we must ever divide ourselves between our feelings
and the claims that others have upon us."
"That is too true, mademoiselle," I replied; "souls of the higher sort
seem purposed to serve as a guide and promise to us weaker ones: the
traveller who has lost his path, the sick man, and the starving
pauper,--each has a claim upon them, for God has created them like the
stars above us, for the happiness of all."
Odile lowered her deep-fringed eyelids, while Sperver pressed my hand.
After a moment, the Countess continued:
"Ah, monsieur, if you could only save my father!"
"As I have had the pleasure of telling you before, mademoiselle,
yesterday's crisis is past; we must now endeavor to prevent its
recurrence."
"Do you believe that this can be done?"
"With God's help, mademoiselle, it is not impossible. I must give the
matter the most careful thought."
Odile, much agitated, moved with me to the door, and as I bowed myself
out of the chamber, I fancied that I detected in her lovely face an
expression of increased hope. Sperver and I crossed the antechamber,
where a few servants were standing awaiting the orders of their
mistress. We had just entered the corridor, when Gideon, who led the
way, turned abruptly round, and resting his hands on my shoulders, said:
"Gaston, I am a man to be trusted; what is your opinion of the case?"
"There is nothing to be feared to-night."
"I know that; you said as much to the Countess. But to-morrow?"
"To-morrow?"
"Yes. Don't turn your head. I suppose you can't prevent a recurrence of
the attack, but, frankly, do you think he will die of it?"
"He may, but I don't anticipate it."
"Ah," cried the good fellow joyfully; "that means you are sure he
won't!"
Thrusting his arm through mine, he pulled me into the gallery. We had
hardly set foot in it when the Baron Zimmer and his groom appeared,
preceded by Sebalt, who carried a flaming torch in his hand. They were
on their way to their chambers, and these two figures, with their cloaks
flung over their shoulders, their knee-boots of soft Hungarian leather,
their waists tightly buttoned in, their long green tunics ornamented
with frogs and twisted fringes of silk and gold, their bearskin caps
drawn down over their ears, and their long hunting-knives stuck in their
belts, looked strangely picturesque in the white light of the dripping
pine torch.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Sperver, "if I am not greatly mistaken, those are
our Tuebingen friends. They were close at our heels, you see."
"You are right; they are the same people! I remember the younger one by
his slim figure; he has the profile of an eagle, and wears his mustache
like the astrologer-general Wallenstein."
They disappeared beneath a side triforium.
Gideon took a torch from the wall, and guided me through a labyrinth of
corridors, passageways, and high, low, turret-shaped, and winding
entries. I thought he would never have done.
"Here is the hall of the Margraves," he said; "and this is the portrait
gallery. There is the chapel, where no mass has been said since Louis
the Bald became a Protestant. Next comes the armory."
These facts possessed but little interest for me. After having reached
the end of the gallery, we had to descend a staircase that seemed
interminable; at last, thank Heaven! we halted before a low, massive
door. Sperver drew an enormous key from his pocket, and handing me the
torch, said, "Mind the light; be careful!"
At the same time, he pushed open the door, and the cold outside air
rushed into the passageway. The flame leaped back and sent a shower of
sparks in all directions. I fancied myself standing on the edge of an
abyss, and I recoiled instinctively.
"Ha, Ha!" laughed the steward, his mouth parted in a broad grin, "any
one would think you were afraid, Gaston. Come on! We are now in the
little court that leads from the Castle to the old tower."
The good fellow moved on by way of example. The snow lay deep in this
courtyard, and the wind swept it with terrific gusts. Had any one seen
our flaring torch upon the plain, he would have asked himself, "What are
they doing up there in the clouds? Why are they prowling about at this
time of night?"
"Perhaps the old witch is looking up at us," I thought, and the idea
made me shudder. I drew closer the folds of my cloak, and holding my hat
on with the other hand, I ran after Sperver, who held his light above
his head to show me the path, and moved along with rapid strides.
We rushed into the tower, and then into Hugh's Chamber, where a bright
fire greeted us with cheerful cracklings. How grateful it was to be
sheltered by the thick walls! I had stopped while Sperver closed the
door, and contemplating this ancient abode, I cried, "Thank God, we
shall have a moment to rest now!"
"And before an excellent table," added Gideon. "Just look at that,--the
leg of a kid, two roasted pheasants, a blue-backed pike, his mouth
stuffed with parsley; cold meats and hot wines is what I like. I have no
fault to find with Kasper; he has carried out my orders to the letter!"
Gideon spoke truly,--"cold meats and hot wines;" for before the fire
stood a generous array of bottles, being submitted to the gentle
influence of the heat. The sight of this repast served to whet my
already considerable appetite; but Sperver, who understood the art of
being comfortable, said to me:
"Don't be in too great a hurry, Gaston! Let's take things easily! We
have time enough; the pheasants won't fly away, and as for the pike,
I'll warrant he cares no more about swimming. In the first place, having
been eight hours in the saddle, your boots must hurt you, so off with
them. Sit down there and put your boot between my knees. I've got that
one; let's have the other. There you are. Now put your feet in these
slippers, take off your cloak, and throw this dressing-gown over you.
Now you'll do!"
Having gone through a similar course of preparation, he cried in a
hearty tone:
"Now, Gaston, fall to! You do your share and I'll do mine, and remember
well the German proverb: 'If Beelzebub created thirst, surely the Lord
made wine to quench it.'"