Following Sperver, who ascended the staircase with rapid steps, I was
still able to convince myself that the Castle of Nideck had not an
undeserved reputation.
It was a true stronghold, partly cut out of the rock, such as used
formerly to be called a _château d'ambuscade_. Its lofty vaulted arches
re-echoed afar with our steps, and the outside air blowing with sharp
gusts through the loopholes--narrow slits made for the archers of former
days--caused our torches to flare and flicker from space to space over
the faintly-illuminated protruding lines of the arches as they caught the
uncertain light.
Sperver knew every nook and corner of this vast place. He turned now to
the right and now to the left, and I followed him breathless. At last he
stopped on a spacious landing, and said to me--
"Now, Fritz, I will leave you for a minute with the people of the castle
to inform the young Countess Odile of your arrival."
"Do just what you think right."
"Then you will find the head butler, Tobias Offenloch, an old soldier of
the regiment of Nideck. He campaigned in France under the count; and you
will see his wife, a Frenchwoman, Marie Lagoutte, who pretends that she
comes of a high family."
"And why should she not?"
"Of course she might; but, between ourselves, she was nothing but a
_cantinière_ in the Grande Armée. She brought in Tobias Offenloch upon
her cart, with one of his legs gone, and he has married her out of
gratitude. You understand?"
"That will do, but open, for I am numb with cold."
And I was about to push on; but Sperver, as obstinate as any other good
German, was not going to let me off without edifying me upon the history
of the people with whom my lot was going to be cast for awhile, and
holding me by the frogs of my fur coat he went on--
"There's, besides, Sébalt Kraft, the master of the hounds; he is rather
a dismal fellow, but he has not his equal at sounding the horn; and there
will be Karl Trumpf, the butler, and Christian Becker, and everybody,
unless they have all gone to bed."
Thereupon Sperver pushed open the door, and I stood in some surprise on
the threshold of a high, dark hall, the guard room of the old lords of
Nideck.
My eyes fell at first upon the three windows at the farther end, looking
out upon the sheer rocky precipice. On the right stood an old sideboard
in dark oak, and upon it a cask, glasses, and bottles; on the left a
Gothic chimney overhung with its heavy massive mantelpiece, empurpled by
the brilliant roaring fire underneath, and ornamented on both front and
sides with wood-carvings representing scenes from boar-hunts in the
Middle Ages, and along the centre of the apartment a long table, upon
which stood a huge lamp throwing its light upon a dozen pewter tankards.
At one glance I saw all this; but the human portion of the scene
interested me most.
I recognised the major-domo, or head butler, by his wooden leg, of which
I had already heard; he was of low stature, round, fat, and rosy, and his
knees seldom coming within an easy range of his eyesight; a nose red and
bulbous like a ripe raspberry; on his head he wore a huge hemp-coloured
wig, bulging out over his fat poll; a coat of light green plush, with
steel buttons as large as a five-franc piece; velvet breeches, silk
stockings, and shoes garnished with silver buckles. He was just with his
hand upon the top of the cask, with an air of inexpressible satisfaction
beaming upon his ruddy features, and his eyes glowing in profile, from
the reflection of the fire, like a couple of watch-glasses.
His wife, the worthy Marie Lagoutte, her spare figure draped in
voluminous folds, her long and sallow face like a skin of chamois
leather, was playing at cards with two servants who were gravely seated
on straight-backed arm-chairs. Certain small split pegs were seated
astride across the nose of the old woman and that of another player,
whilst the third was significantly and cunningly winking his eye and
seeming to enjoy seeing them victimised upon these new Caudine Forks.
"How many cards?" he was asking.
"Two," answered the old woman.
"And you, Christian?"
"Two."
"Aha! now I have got you, then. Cut the king--now the ace--here's one,
here's another. Another peg, mother! This will teach you once more not
to brag about French games."
"Monsieur Christian, you don't treat the fair sex with proper respect."
"At cards you respect nobody."
"But you see I have no room left!"
"Pooh, on a nose like yours there's always room for more!"
At that moment Sperver cried--
"Mates, here I am!"
"Ha! Gideon, back already?"
Marie Lagoutte shook off her numerous pegs with a jerk of her head. The
big butler drank off his glass. Everybody turned our way.
"Is monseigneur better?"
The butler answered with a doubtful ejaculation.
"Is he just the same?"
"Much about," answered Marie Lagoutte, who never took her eyes off me.
Sperver noticed this.
"Let me introduce to you my foster-son, Doctor Fritz, from the Black
Forest," he answered proudly. "Now we shall see a change, Master Tobie.
Now that Fritz has come the abominable fits will be put an end to. If I
had but been listened to earlier--but better late than never."
Marie Lagoutte was still watching us, and her scrutiny seemed
satisfactory, for, addressing the major-domo, she said--
"Now, Monsieur Offenloch, hand the doctor a chair; move about a little,
do! There you stand with your mouth wide open, just like a fish. Ah, sir,
these Germans!"
And the good man, jumping up as if moved by a spring, came to take off my
cloak.
"Permit me, sir."
"You are very kind, my dear lady."
"Give it to me. What terrible weather! Ah, monsieur, what a dreadful
country this is!"
"So monseigneur is neither better nor worse," said Sperver, shaking the
snow off his cap; "we are not too late, then. Ho, Kasper! Kasper!"
A little man, who had one shoulder higher than the other, and his face
spotted with innumerable freckles, came out of the chimney corner.
"Here I am!"
"Very good; now get ready for this gentleman the bedroom at the end of
the long gallery--Hugh's room; you know which I mean."
"Yes, Sperver, in a minute."
"And you will take with you, as you go, the doctor's knapsack. Knapwurst
will give it you. As for supper--"
"Never you mind. That is my business."
"Very well, then. I will depend upon you."
The little man went out, and Gideon, after taking off his cape, left us
to go and inform the young countess of my arrival.
I was rather overpowered with the attentions of Marie Lagoutte.
"Give up that place of yours, Sébalt," she cried to the kennel-keeper.
"You are roasted enough by this time. Sit near the fire, monsieur le
docteur; you must have very cold feet. Stretch out your legs; that's the
way."
Then, holding out her snuff-box to me--
"Do you take snuff?"
"No, dear madam, with many thanks."
"That is a pity," she answered, filling both nostrils. "It is the most
delightful habit."
She slipped her snuff-box back into her apron pocket, and went on--
"You are come not a bit too soon. Monseigneur had his second attack
yesterday; it was an awful attack, was it not, Monsieur Offenloch?"
"Furious indeed," answered the head butler gravely.
"It is not surprising," she continued, "when a man takes no nourishment.
Fancy, monsieur, that for two days he has never tasted broth!"
"Nor a glass of wine," added the major-domo, crossing his hands over his
portly, well-lined person.
As it seemed expected of me, I expressed my surprise, on which Tobias
Offenloch came to sit at my right hand, and said--
"Doctor, take my advice; order him a bottle a day of Marcobrunner."
"And," chimed in Marie Lagoutte, "a wing of a chicken at every meal. The
poor man is frightfully thin."
"We have got Marcobrunner sixty years in bottle," added the major-domo,
"for it is a mistake of Madame Offenloch's to suppose that the French
drank it all. And you had better order, while you are about it, now and
then, a good bottle of Johannisberg. That is the best wine to set a man
up again."
"Time was," remarked the master of the hounds in a dismal voice--"time
was when monseigneur hunted twice a week; then he was well; when he left
off hunting, then he fell ill."
"Of course it could not be otherwise," observed Marie Lagoutte. "The open
air gives you an appetite. The doctor had better order him to hunt three
times a week to make up for lost time."
"Two would be enough," replied the man of dogs with the same gravity;
"quite enough. The hounds must have their rest. Dogs have just as much
right to rest as we have."
There was a few moments' silence, during which I could hear the wind
beating against the window-panes, and rush, sighing and wailing, through
the loopholes into the towers.
Sébalt sat with legs across, and his elbow resting on his knee, gazing
into the fire with unspeakable dolefulness. Marie Lagoutte, after having
refreshed herself with a fresh pinch, was settling her snuff into shape
in its box, while I sat thinking on the strange habit people indulge in
of pressing their advice upon those who don't want it.
At this moment the major-domo rose.
"Will you have a glass of wine, doctor?" said he, leaning over the back
of my arm-chair.
"Thank you, but I never drink before seeing a patient."
"What! not even one little glass?"
"Not the smallest glass you could offer me."
He opened his eyes wide and looked with astonishment at his wife.
"The doctor is right," she said. "I am quite of his opinion. I prefer
to drink with my meat, and to take a glass of cognac afterwards. That
is what the ladies do in France. Cognac is more fashionable than
kirschwasser!"
Marie Lagoutte had hardly finished with her dissertation when Sperver
opened the door quietly and beckoned me to follow him.
I bowed to the "honourable company," and as I was entering the passage
I could hear that lady saying to her husband--
"That is a nice young man. He would have made a good-looking soldier."
Sperver looked uneasy, but said nothing. I was full of my own thoughts.
A few steps under the darkling vaults of Nideck completely effaced from
my memory the queer figures of Tobias and Marie Lagoutte, poor harmless
creatures, existing like bats under the mighty wing of the vulture.
Soon Gideon brought me into a sumptuous apartment hung with
violet-coloured velvet, relieved with gold. A bronze lamp stood in a
corner, its brightness toned down by a globe of ground crystal; thick
carpets, soft as the turf on the hills, made our steps noiseless. It
seemed a fit abode for silence and meditation.
On entering Sperver lifted the heavy draperies which fell around an ogee
window. I observed him straining his eyes to discover something in the
darkened distance; he was trying to make out whether the witch still lay
there crouching down upon the snow in the midst of the plain; but he
could see nothing, for there was deep darkness over all.
But I had gone on a few steps, and came in sight, by the faint rays of
the lamp, of a pale, delicate figure seated in a Gothic chair not far
from the sick man. It was Odile of Nideck. Her long black silk dress, her
gentle expression of calm self-devotion and complete resignation, the
ideal angel-like cast of her sweet features, recalled to one's mind those
mysterious creations of the pencil in the Middle Ages when painting was
pursued as a true art, but which modern imitators have found themselves
obliged to give up in despair, while at the same time they never can
forget them.
I cannot say what thoughts passed rapidly through my mind at the sight
of this fair creature, but certainly much of devotion mingled with my
sentiments. A sense of music and harmony swept sadly through by soul,
with faint impressions of the old ballads of my childhood--of those pious
songs with which the kind nurses of the Black Forest rock to peaceful
sleep our infant sorrows.
At my approach Odile rose.
"You are very welcome, monsieur le docteur," she said with touching
kindness and simplicity; then, pointing with her finger to a recess where
lay the count, she added, "There is my father."
I bowed respectfully and without answering, for I felt deeply affected,
and drew near to my patient.
Sperver, standing at the head of the bed, held up the lamp with one hand,
holding his far cap in the other. Odile stood at my left hand. The light,
softened by the subdued light of the globe of ground crystal, fell softly
on the face of the count.
At once I was struck with a strangeness in the physiognomy of the Count
of Nideck, and in spite of all the admiration which his lovely daughter
had at once obtained from me, my first conclusion was, "What an old
wolf!"
And such he seemed to be indeed. A grey head, covered with short, close
hair, strangely full behind the ears, and drawn out in the face to a
portentous length, the narrowness of his forehead up to its summit
widening over the eyebrows, which were shaggy and met, pointing downwards
over the bridge of the nose, imperfectly shading with their sable outline
the cold and inexpressive eyes; the short, rough beard, irregularly
spread over the angular and bony outline of the mouth--every feature of
this man's dreadful countenance made me shudder, and strange notions
crossed my mind about the mysterious affinities between man and the lower
creation.
But I resisted my first impressions and took the sick man's hand. It was
dry and wiry, yet small and strong; I found the pulse quick, feverish,
and denoting great irritability.
What was I to do?
I stood considering; on the one side stood the young lady, anxiously
trying to read a little hope in my face; on the other Sperver, equally
anxious and watching my every movement. A painful constraint lay,
therefore, upon me, yet I saw that there was nothing definite that
could be attempted yet.
I dropped the arm and listened to the breathing. From time to time a
convulsive sob heaved the sick man's heart, after which followed a
succession of quick, short respirations. A kind of nightmare was
evidently weighing him down--epilepsy, perhaps, or tetanus. But what
could be the cause or origin?
I turned round full of painful thoughts.
"Is there any hope, sir?" asked the young countess.
"Yesterday's crisis is drawing to its close," I answered; "we must see if
we can prevent its recurrence."
"Is there any possibility of it, sir?"
I was about to answer in general medical terms, not daring to venture any
positive assertions, when the distant sound of the bell at the gate fell
upon our ears.
"Visitors," said Sperver.
There was a moment's silence.
"Go and see who it is," said Odile, whose brow was for a minute shaded
with anxiety. "How can one be hospitable to strangers at such a time? It
is hardly possible!"
But the door opened, and a rosy face, with golden hair, appeared in the
shadow, and said in a whisper--
"It is the Baron of Zimmer-Bluderich, with a servant, and he asks for
shelter in the Nideck. He has lost his way among the mountains."
"Very well, Gretchen," answered the young countess, kindly; "go and tell
the steward to attend to the Baron de Zimmer. Inform him that the count
is very ill, and that this alone prevents him from doing the honours as
he would wish. Wake up some of our people to wait on him, and let
everything be done properly."
Nothing could exceed the sweet and noble simplicity of the young
châtelaine in giving her orders. If an air of distinction seems
hereditary in some families it is surely because the exercise of the
duties conferred by the possession of wealth has a natural tendency to
ennoble the whole character and bearing.
These thoughts passed through my mind whilst admiring the grace and
gentleness in every movement of Odile of Nideck, and that clearness and
purity of outline which is only found marked in the features of the
higher aristocracy, and I could recall nothing to my recollection equal
to this ideal beauty.
"Go now, Gretchen," said the young countess, "and make haste."
The attendant went out, and I stood a few seconds under the influence of
the charm of her manner.
Odile turned round, and addressing me, "You see, sir," said she with a
sad smile, "one may not indulge in grief without a pause; we must divide
ourselves between our affection within and the world without."
"True, madam," I replied; "souls of the highest order are for the common
property and advantage of the unhappy--the lost wayfarer, the sick, the
hungry poor--each has his claim for a share, for God has made them like
the stars of heaven to give light and pleasure to all."
The deep-fringed eyelids veiled the blue eyes for a moment, while Sperver
pressed my hand.
Presently she pursued--
"Ah, if you could but restore my father's health!"
"As I have had the pleasure to inform you, madam, the crisis is past; the
return must be anticipated, if possible."
"Do you hope that it may?"
"With God's help, madam, it is not impossible; I will think carefully
over it."
Odile, much moved, came with me to the door. Sperver and I crossed the
ante-room, where a few servants were waiting for the orders of their
mistress. We had just entered the corridor when Gideon, who was walking
first, turned quickly round, and, placing both his hands on my shoulders,
said--
"Come, Fritz; I am to be depended upon for keeping a secret; what is your
opinion?"
"I think there is no cause of apprehension for to-night."
"I know that--so you told the countess--but how about to-morrow?"
"To-morrow?"
"Yes; don't turn round. I suppose you cannot prevent the return of the
complaint; do you think, Fritz, he will die of it?"
"It is possible, but hardly probable."
"Well done!" cried the good man, springing from the ground with joy; "if
you don't think so, that means that you are sure."
And taking my arm, he drew me into the gallery. We had just reached it
when the Baron of Zimmer-Bluderich and his groom appeared there also,
marshalled by Sébalt with a lighted torch in his hand. They were on their
way to their chambers, and those two figures, with their cloaks flung
over their shoulders, their loose Hungarian boots up to the knees, the
body closely girt with long dark-green laced and frogged tunics, and the
bear-skin cap closely and warmly covering the head, were very picturesque
objects by the flickering light of the pine-torch.
"There," whispered Sperver, "if I am not very much mistaken, those are
our Fribourg friends; they have followed very close upon our heels."
"You are quite right: they are the men; I recognise the younger by his
tall, slender figure, his aquiline nose, and his long, drooping
moustache."
They disappeared through a side passage.
Gideon took a torch from the wall, and guided me through quite a maze of
corridors, aisles, narrow and wide passages, under high vaulted roofs and
under low-built arches; who could remember? There seemed no end.
"Here is the hall of the margraves," said he; "here is the
portrait-gallery, and this is the chapel, where no mass has been
said since Louis the Bold became a Protestant."
All these particulars had very little interest for me.
After reaching the end we had again to go down steps; at last we happily
came to the end of our journey before a low massive door. Sperver took a
huge key out of his pocket, and handing me the torch, said--
"Mind the light--look out!"
At the same time he pushed open the door, and the cold outside air rushed
into the narrow passage. The torch flared and sent out a volley of sparks
in all directions. I thought I saw a dark abyss before me, and recoiled
with fear.
"Ha, ha, ha!" cried the huntsman, opening his mouth from ear to ear, "you
are surely not afraid, Fritz? Come on; don't be frightened! We are upon
the parapet between the castle and the old tower."
And my friend advanced to set me the example.
The narrow granite-walled platform was deep in snow, swept in swirling
banks by the angry winds. Any one who had seen our flaring torch from
below would have asked, "What are they doing up there in the clouds? what
can they want at this time of the night?"
Perhaps, I thought within myself, the witch is looking up at us, and that
idea gave me a fit of shuddering. I drew closer together the folds of my
horseman's cloak, and with my hand upon my hat, I set off after Sperver
at a run; he was raising the light above his head to show me the road,
and was moving forward rapidly.
We rushed into the tower and then into Hugh Lupus's chamber. A bright
fire saluted us here with its cheerful rays; how delightful to be once
more sheltered by thick walls!
I had stopped while Sperver closed the door, and contemplating this
ancient abode, I cried--
"Thank God! we shall rest now!"
"With a well-furnished table before us," added Gideon. "Don't stand there
with your nose in the air, but rather consider what is before you--a leg
of a kid, a couple of roast fowls, a pike fresh caught, with parsley
sauce; cold meats and hot wines, that's what I like. Kasper has attended
to my orders like a real good fellow."
Gideon spoke the truth. The meats were cold and the wines were warm, for
in front of the fire stood a row of small bottles under the gentle
influence of the heat.
At the sight of these good things my appetite rose in me wonderfully. But
Sperver, who understood what is comfortable, stopped me.
"Fritz," said he, "don't let us be in too great a hurry; we have plenty
of time; the fowls won't fly away. Your boots must hurt you. After eight
hours on horseback it is pleasant to take off one's boots, that's my
principle. Now sit down, put your boot between my knees; there goes one
off, now the other, that's the way; now put your feet into these
slippers, take off your cloak and throw this lighter coat over your
shoulders. Now we are ready."
And with his cheery summons I sat down with him to work, one on each side
of the table, remembering the German proverb--"Thirst comes from the evil
one, but good wine from the Powers above."