We ate with the vigorous appetite which ten hours in the snows of the
Black Forest would be sure to provoke.
Sperver making indiscriminate attacks upon the kid, the fowls, and the
fish, murmured with his mouth full--
"The woods, the lakes and rivers, and the heathery hills are full of good
things!"
Then he leaned over the back of his chair, and laying his hand on the
first bottle that came to hand, he added--
"And we have hills green in spring, purple in autumn when the grapes
ripen. Your health, Fritz!"
"Yours, Gideon!"
We were a wonder to behold. We reciprocally admired each other.
The fire crackled, the forks rattled, teeth were in full activity,
bottles gurgled, glasses jingled, while outside the wintry blast, the
high moaning mountain winds, were mournfully chanting the dirge of the
year, that strange wailing hymn with which they accompany the shock of
the tempest and the swift rush of the grey clouds charged with snow and
hail, while the pale moon lights up the grim and ghastly battle scene.
But we were snug under cover, and our appetite was fading away into
history. Sperver had filled the "wieder komm," the "come again," with old
wine of Brumberg; the sparkling froth fringed its ample borders; he
presented it to me, saying--
"Drink the health of Yeri-Hans, lord of Nideck. Drink to the last drop,
and show them that you mean it!"
Which was done.
Then he filled it again, and repeating with a voice that re-echoed among
the old walls, "To the recovery of my noble master, the high and mighty
lord of Nideck," he drained it also.
Then a feeling of satisfied repletion stole gently over us, and we felt
pleased with everything.
I fell back in my chair, with my face directed to the ceiling, and my
arms hanging lazily down. I began dreamily to consider what sort of a
place I had got into.
It was a low vaulted ceiling cut out of the live rock, almost
oven-shaped, and hardly twelve feet high at the highest point. At the
farther end I saw a sort of deep recess where lay my bed on the ground,
and consisting, as I thought I could see, of a huge bear-skin above, and
I could not tell what below, and within this yet another smaller niche
with a figure of the Virgin Mary carved out of the same granite, and
crowned with a bunch of withered grass.
"You are looking over your room," said Spencer. "_Parbleu!_ it is none of
the biggest or grandest, not quite like the rooms in the castle. We are
now in Hugh Lupus's tower, a place as old as the mountain itself, going
as far back as the days of Charlemagne. In those days, as you see, people
had not yet learned to build arches high, round, or pointed. They worked
right into the rock."
"Well, for all that, you have put me in strange lodgings."
"Don't be mistaken, Fritz; it is the place of honour. It is here that the
count put all his most distinguished friends. Mind that: Hugh Lupus's
tower is the most honourable accommodation we have."
"And who was Hugh Lupus?"
"Why, Hugh the Wolf, to be sure. He was the head of the family of Nideck,
a rough-and-ready warrior, I can tell you. He came to settle up here with
a score of horsemen and halberdiers of his following. They climbed up
this rock--the highest rock amongst these mountains. You will see this
to-morrow. They constructed this tower, and proclaimed, 'Now we are the
masters! Woe befall the miserable wretches who shall pass without paying
toll to us! We will tear the wool off their backs, and their hide too, if
need be. From this watch-tower we shall command a view of the far
distance all round. The passes of the Rhéthal, of Steinbach, Koche Plate,
and of the whole line of the Black Forest are under our eye. Let the Jew
pedlars and the dealers beware!' And the noble fellows did what they
promised. Hugh the Wolf was at their head. Knapwurst told me all about it
sitting up one night."
"Who is Knapwurst?"
"That little humpback who opened the gate for us. He is an odd fellow,
Fritz, and almost lives in the library."
"So you have a man of learning at Nideck?"
"Yes, we have, the rascal! Instead of confining himself to the porter's
lodge, his proper place, all the day over he is amongst the dusty books
and parchments belonging to the family. He comes and goes along the
shelves of the library just like a big cat. Knapwurst knows our story
better than we know it ourselves. He would tell you the longest tales,
Fritz, if you would only let him. He calls them chronicles--ha, ha!"
And Sperver, with the wine mounting a little into his head, began to
laugh, he could hardly say why.
"So then, Gideon, you call this tower, Hugh's tower the Hugh Lupus
tower?"
"Haven't I told you so already? What are you so astonished at?"
"Nothing particular."
"But you are. I can see it in your face. You are thinking of something
strange. What is it?"
"Oh, never mind! It is not the name of the tower which surprises me. What
I am wondering at is, how it is that you, an old poacher, who had never
lived anywhere since you were a boy but amongst the fir forests, between
the snowy summits of the Wald Horn and the passes of the Rhéthal--you
who, during all your prime of life, thought it the finest of fun to laugh
at the count's gamekeepers, and to scour the mountain paths of the
Schwartzwald, and boat the bushes there, and breathe the free air, and
bask in the bright sunshine amongst the hills and valleys--here I find
you, at the end of sixteen years of such a life, shut up in this red
granite hole. That is what surprises me and what I cannot understand.
Come, Sperver, light your pipe, and tell me all about it."
The old poacher took out of his leathern jacket a bit of a blackened
pipe; he filled it at his leisure, gathered up in the hollow of his hand
a live ember, which he placed upon the bowl of his pipe; then with his
eyes dreamily cast up to the ceiling he answered meditatively--
"Old falcons, gerfalcons, and hawks, when they have long swept the
plains, end their lives in a hole in a rock. Sure enough I am fond of the
wide expanse of sky and land. I always was fond of it; but instead of
perching by night upon a high branch of a tall tree, rocked by the wind,
I now prefer to return to my cavern, to drink a glass, to pick a bone of
venison, and dry my plumage before a warm fire. The Count of Nideck does
not disdain Sperver, the old hawk, the true man of the woods. One
evening, meeting me by moonlight, he frankly said to me, 'Old comrade,
you hunt only by night. Come and hunt by day with me. You have a sharp
beak and strong claws. Well, hunt away, if such is your nature; but hunt
by my licence, for I am the eagle upon these mountains, and my name is
Nideck!'"
Sperver was silent a few minutes; then he resumed--
"That was just what suited me, and now I hunt as I used to do, and I
quietly drink along with a friend my bottle of Affenthal or--"
At that moment there was a shock that made the door vibrate; Sperver
stopped and listened.
"It is a gust of wind," I said.
"No, it is something else. Don't you hear the scratching of claws?
It is a dog that has escaped. Open, Lieverlé, open, Blitzen!" cried
the huntsman, rising; but he had not gone a couple of steps when a
formidable-looking hound of the Danish breed broke into the tower, and
ran to lay his heavy paws on his master's shoulders, licking his beard
and his cheeks with his long rose-coloured tongue, uttering all the while
short barks and yelps expressive of his joy.
Sperver had passed his arm round the dog's neck, and, turning to me,
said--
"Fritz, what man could love me as this dog does? Do look at this head,
these eyes, these teeth!"
He uncovered the animal's teeth, displaying a set of fangs that would
have pulled down and rent a buffalo. Then repelling him with difficulty,
for the dog was re-doubling his caresses--
"Down, Lieverlé. I know you love me. If you did not, who would?"
Never had I seen so tremendous a dog as this Lieverlé. His height
attained two feet and a half. He would have been a most formidable
creature in an attack. His forehead was broad, flat, and covered with
fine soft hair; his eye was keen, his paws of great length, his sides
and legs a woven mass of muscles and nerves, broad over the back and
shoulders, slender and tapering towards the hind legs. But he had no
scent. If such monstrous and powerful hounds were endowed with the scent
of the terrier there would soon be an end of game.
Sperver had returned to his seat, and was passing his hand over
Lieverlé's massive head with pride, and enumerating to me his excellent
qualities.
Lieverlé seemed to understand him.
"See, Fritz, that dog will throttle a wolf with one snap of his jaws. For
courage and strength, he is perfection. He is not five years old, but he
is in his prime. I need not tell you that he is trained to hunt the boar.
Every time we come across a herd of them I tremble for Lieverlé; his
attack is too straightforward, he flies on the game as straight as an
arrow. That is why I am afraid of the brutes' tusks. Lie down, Lieverlé,
lie on your back!"
The dog obeyed, and presented to view his flesh-coloured sides.
"Look, Fritz, at that long white seam without any hair upon it from under
the thigh right up to the chest. A boar did that. Poor creature! he was
holding him fast by the ear and would not let go; we tracked the two by
the blood. I was the first up with them. Seeing my Lieverlé I gave a
shout, I jumped off my horse, I caught him between my arms, flung him
into my cloak, and brought him home. I was almost beside myself. Happily
the vital parts had not been wounded. I sewed up his belly in spite of
his howling and yelling, for he suffered fearfully; but in three days he
was already licking his wound, and a dog who licks himself is already
saved. You remember that, Lieverlé, hey! and aren't we fonder of each
other now than ever?"
I was quite moved with the affection of the man for that dog, and of the
dog for his master; they seemed to look into the very depths of each
other's souls. The dog wagged his tail, and the man had tears in his
eyes.
Sperver went on--
"What amazing strength! Do you see, Fritz, he has burst his cord to get
to me--a rope of six strands; he found out my track and here he is! Here,
Lieverlé, catch!"
And he threw to him the remains of the leg of kid. The jaws opened wide
and closed again with a terrible crash, and Sperver, looking at me
significantly, said--
"Fritz, if he were to grip you by your breeches you would not get away so
easily!"
"Nor any one else, I suppose."
The dog went to stretch himself at his ease full length under the
mantelshelf with the leg fast between his mighty paws. He began to tear
it into pieces. Sperver looked at him out of the corner of his eye with
great satisfaction. The bone was fast falling into small fragments in the
powerful mill that was crashing it. Lieverlé was partial to marrow!
"Aha! Fritz, if you were requested to fetch that bone away from him, what
would you say?"
"I should think it a mission requiring extraordinary delicacy and tact."
Then we broke out into a hearty laugh, and Sperver, seated in his
leathern easy chair, with his left arm thrown back over his head, one of
his manly legs over a stool, and the other in front of a huge log, which
was dripping at its end with the oozing sap, and darted volumes of light
grey smoke to the roof.
I was still contemplating the dog, when, suddenly recollecting our broken
conversation, I went on--
"Now, Sperver, you have not told me everything. When you left the mountain
for the castle was it not on account of the death of Gertrude, your good,
excellent wife?"
Gideon frowned, and a tear dimmed his eye; he drew himself up, and
shaking out the ashes of his pipe upon his thumbnail, he said--
"True, my wife is dead. That drove me from the woods. I could not look
upon the valley of Roche Creuse without pain. I turned my flight in this
direction: I hunt less in the woods, and I can see it all from higher up,
and if by chance the pack tails off in that direction I let them go. I
turn back and try to think of something else."
Sperver had grown taciturn. With his head drooped upon his breast, his
eyes fixed on the stone floor, he sat silent. I felt sorry to have awoke
these melancholy recollections in him. Then, my thoughts once more
returning to the Black Plague grovelling in the snow, I felt a shivering
of horror.
How strange! just one word had sent us into a train of unhappy thoughts.
A whole world of remembrances was called up by a chance.
I know not how long this silence lasted, when a growl, deep, long, and
terrible, like distant thunder, made us start.
We looked at the dog. The half-gnawed bone was still between his
forepaws, but with head raised high, ears cocked up, and flashing eye,
he was listening intently--listening to the silence as it were, and an
angry quivering ran down the length of his back.
Sperver and I fixed on each other anxious eyes; yet there was not a
sound, not a breath outside, for the wind had gone down; nothing could be
heard but the deep protracted growl which came from deep down the chest
of the noble hound.
Suddenly he sprang up and bounded impetuously against the wall with a
hoarse, rough bark of fearful loudness. The walls re-echoed just as if
a clap of thunder had rattled the casements.
Lieverlé, with his head low down, seemed to want to see through the
granite, and his lips drawn back from his teeth discovered them to the
very gums, displaying two close rows of fangs white as ivory. Still he
growled. For a moment he would stop abruptly with his nose snuffing close
to the wall, next the floor, with strong respirations; then he would rise
again in a fresh rage, and with his forepaws seemed as if he would break
through the granite.
We watched in silence without being able to understand what caused his
excitement.
Another yell of rage more terrible than the first made us spring from our
seats.
"Lieverlé! what possesses you? Are you going mad?"
He seized a log and began to sound the wall, which only returned the
dead, hard sound of a wall of solid rock. There was no hollow in it; yet
the dog stood in the posture of attack.
"Decidedly you must have been dreaming bad dreams," said the huntsman.
"Come, lie down, and don't worry us any more with your nonsense."
At that moment a noise outside reached our ears. The door opened, and the
fat honest countenance of Tobias Offenloch with his lantern in one hand
and his stick in the other, his three-cornered hat on his head, appeared,
smiling and jovial, in the opening.
"_Salut! l'honorable compagnie!_" he cried as he entered; "what are you
doing here?"
"It was that rascal Lieverlé who made all that row. Just fancy--he set
himself up against that wall as if he smelt a thief. What could he mean?"
"Why _parbleu_! he heard the dot, dot of my wooden leg, to be sure,
stumping up the tower-stairs," answered the jolly fellow, laughing.
Then setting his lantern on the table--
"That will teach you, friend Gideon, to tie up your dogs. You are
foolishly weak over your dogs--very foolishly. Those beasts of yours
won't be satisfied till they have put us all out of doors. Just this
minute I met Blitzen in the long gallery: he sprang at my leg--see there
are the marks of his teeth in proof of what I say; and it is quite a new
leg--a brute of a hound!"
"Tie up my dogs! That's rather a new idea," said the huntsman. "Dogs tied
up are good for nothing at all; they grow too wild. Besides, was not
Lieverlé tied up, after all? See his broken cord."
"What I tell you is not on my own account. When they come near me I
always hold up my stick and put my wooden leg foremost--that is my
discipline. I say, dogs in their kennels, cats on the roof, and the
people in the castle."
Tobias sat down after thus delivering himself of his sentiments, and with
both elbows on the table, his eyes expanding with delight, he confided to
us that just now he was a bachelor.
"You don't mean that!"
"Yes, Marie Anne is sitting up with Gertrude in monseigneur's ante-room."
"Then you are in no hurry to go away?"
"No, none at all. I should like to stay in your company."
"How unfortunate that you should have come in so late!" remarked Sperver;
"all the bottles are empty."
The disappointment of the discomfited major-domo excited my compassion.
The poor man would so gladly have enjoyed his widowhood. But in spite of
my endeavours to repress it a long yawn extended wide my mouth.
"Well, another time," said he, rising. "What is only put off is not given
up."
And he took his lantern.
"Good night, gentlemen."
"Stop--wait for me," cried Gideon. "I can see Fritz is sleepy; we will go
down together."
"Very gladly, Sperver; on our way we will have a word with Trumpf, the
butler. He is downstairs with the rest, and Knapwurst is telling them
tales."
"All right. Good night, Fritz."
"Good night, Gideon. Don't forget to send for me if the count is taken
worse."
"I will do as you wish. Lieverlé, come."
They went out, and as they were crossing the platform I could hear the
Nideck clock strike eleven. I was tired out and soon fell asleep.