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POPULAR WORKS AFTER THE GERMAN,
BY MRS. A. L. WISTER.
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* * * * *
Complete sets of the above, in eleven double volumes, bound in uniform
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* * * * *
*** For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent by mail, pottage paid,
upon receipt of price by J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., Publishers,
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QUICKSANDS
FROM THE GERMAN OF
ADOLPH STRECKFUSS
BY
MRS. A. L. WISTER
TRANSLATOR OF "THE OLD MAMSELLE'S SECRET," "GOLD ELSIE," "ONLY
A GIRL," "A NOBLE NAME," "THE SECOND WIFE,"
"BANNED AND BLESSED," ETC.
PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
1884
* * * * *
Copyright, 1884, by J. B. Lippincott & Co.
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
I.--An Exchange
II.--Osternau
III.--The Castle's Lord and Lady
IV.--A Cato In Golden Curls
V.--Dinner And Dessert
VI.--Soliman's Tricks
VII.--The Harvest-field
VIII.--News From Berlin
IX.--A Letter And Its Reply
X.--Content And Peace
XI.--Good Advice
XII.--Bertha von Massenburg
XIII.--A Wise Young Judge
XIV.--Pastor Widman as a Correspondent
XV.--Renewed Confidence
XVI.--Robbed
XVII.--Two Letters Again
XVIII.--A Forced Resolve
XIX.--The Prodigal's Return
XX.--Linau
XXI.--An Accident
XXII.--An Old Acquaintance
XXIII.--Mischief For Idle Hands
XXIV.--Past And Present
XXV.--At Home
XXVI.--A Conspiracy
XXVII.--A Mischievous Coquette
XXVIII.--Clara To The Rescue
XXIX.--Clara Dea Ex Machina
XXX.--Conclusion
QUICKSANDS.
CHAPTER I.
AN EXCHANGE.
Upon the short, thick grass of a small, secluded opening in a
magnificent forest of firs and beeches a young man lay, his hands
clasped under his head, buried in waking dreams. He had chosen himself
a charming retreat, where he was safe from all intrusion from wayfarers
passing through the forest by any of the roads or paths that
intersected it at a sufficient distance from this spot. The soft,
grassy sod was a delightful couch, and the interlacing boughs of a huge
beech-tree formed above the head of the dreamer a canopy that entirely
protected him from the burning rays of the mid-day sun.
Profound quiet reigned in the forest, intensified, rather than
disturbed, by the humming of insects; the very birds which had
twittered and sung in the early morning seemed silenced by the heat;
all creatures sought repose and refreshment at high noon on this
glowing July day.
If the young fellow who lay thus luxuriously bedded were seeking mental
as well as bodily repose, it was evident that he had not found it. He
was not asleep; his dark eyes were wide open, gazing restlessly and
discontentedly into the spaces of sky among the beech boughs until
pained by their brilliancy. "How tiresome! how unutterably stupid!" he
muttered, altering his comfortable position so as to rest his head upon
his hand as he leaned upon his elbow. "That deadly-tiresome, monotonous
stretch of brilliant blue sky is the very image of my own weary
existence. Nothing but light and splendour; it is intolerable. If the
sky were only covered with clouds,--if there could be a flash here and
there of lightning, with thunder crashing and winds howling, one might
have some satisfaction in sending a bullet through one's brains with
the thunder for a dirge. But no, even that is not to be. I am to die as
I have lived, surrounded by weary, soul-destroying sunshine. Ah, well,
it is a fitting end to an insignificant and utterly useless life. Come,
little friend, it is high time we were done with it."
He took from his breast-pocket a small, richly-inlaid revolver, and
looked at it with a degree of affection. "You have helped me through
many a long, weary hour. This moment would have come for me long ago
but for you and my piano. It certainly was interesting to learn to
shoot one spot after another out of the six of hearts. It was
irritating not to succeed in hitting each with the same precision. A
useless and silly enough aim in life, to be sure; still it was an aim,
and now that it is attained it is just as tiresome as everything else.
To-day you are to find my heart as surely as the hearts on the card. Or
suppose we try the head; it would be easier; an involuntary quiver of a
muscle, and the ball might miss the heart, but if this barrel lightly
touch the temple the effect must be sure. Three or four balls in the
brain must produce death instantaneously. It is the better plan."
He examined the revolver and made sure that it was loaded; his hand did
not tremble, his look was clear and steadfast; there was even a smile
of satisfaction on his lips as he contemplated the little weapon. "You
will do your duty as you have always done it. You never were to blame
if every spot on the card was not exactly hit, although the clumsy
marksman would gladly have declared the fault yours. As soon as hand
and aim were true, each heart was pierced precisely in the centre."
He raised the pistol, and once more took in at a glance the scene
around him, while his thoughts ran on: "Really, a lovely spot for my
last act! Beneath these spreading boughs the body will lie comfortably
on the soft grass,--for how long before it is found? For days, perhaps
for weeks, the place is so secluded. I should like to know what they
will say in Berlin when the newspapers announce, 'At last the body has
been discovered of Egon von Ernau, who disappeared so many days or
weeks ago,' etc., and there will, of course, follow a long description
of the place where it was found, and of the condition and clothes of
the corpse. The more there is to tell, the better for some poor devil
of a reporter. I do not grudge it him. I can at least serve one man in
the world by my death. And the news will fly like wildfire. It would be
almost worth living for,--the hearing of all that heartless gossip. How
busy all those empty heads will be with wondering what could have
driven a fellow so favoured by fortune to suicide! 'An unfortunate
love-affair,' the sentimentally disposed will declare. 'His father
wished to force him into a marriage with a person of high rank, and in
his despair he took his own life.' Of course they must invent some
reason for a man's escaping from this wretched, wearisome existence.
Fools! If life were worth living, why should I not comply with my
respected parent's wishes? All women are alike. It is all the same
tiresome sham."
He still held the revolver in his raised hand, when suddenly the hand
sank by his side, and he sat up and listened.
A clear note broke upon the woodland quiet,--the sound of a man's tenor
voice singing the hymn 'Rock of Ages' at no great distance from where
Egon von Ernau lay.
He frowned angrily. "Confoundedly annoying!" he muttered. "If I shoot
now, that stupid psalm-singer will hear it,--and then? Then all the
delightful Berlin gossip will be spoiled, the body will be found
immediately, and everything will be known to-morrow. No, no, those good
people must puzzle their brains for a while to discover what has become
of me. My Herr Papa must have some chance to show the world what a
tender, anxious parent he is. We must choose a still more retired spot.
But first let us see where the psalm-singer really is. He seems to have
established himself in the forest here, for the sound continues to come
from the same direction and from somewhere not very far off."
He uncocked his revolver, put the little weapon again into the
breast-pocket of a very well made summer coat, and, rising to his feet,
walked slowly through the wood in the direction whence came the sound
of singing.
It was no easy task to make his way through the thick underbrush,
particularly as he took great pains to make no noise. He wished to see
the singer without being seen himself, and therefore he walked very
slowly, and it was some minutes before he attained his purpose.
Still following the sound, he had reached the edge of the forest, and
only a thick fringe of hazel-bushes obstructed his view beyond.
Cautiously parting these he saw before him a landscape of extraordinary
beauty. Beyond the velvet sward of a small meadow the land sloped down
some eight or ten feet to a charming little lake, on the opposite
shore of which green, smiling fields, stretched far away to the
mountain-slopes of the distant highlands.
The young man gave but a fleeting glance to this lovely picture; he was
far more interested in the singer, whom he now saw at no great
distance.
On the brink of the lake the psalm-singer was kneeling, his head held
stiffly erect, his bony hands clasped and extended to the skies, while,
quite unaware of his listener, he continued his hymn in loud, resonant
tones. He was a young man hardly older than twenty-six, although the
sallow, flabby features of his beardless face, showing no trace of
youthful freshness, might well have caused him to be thought older than
he really was. His face was turned to the heavens, and he was staring
into the deep, cloudless blue with prominent, lacklustre eyes. The
large, thick-lipped mouth was wide open as he shouted out the last
verse of his hymn.
He certainly was not handsome, and he was made far more repulsive in
appearance than he might have been by the ill-fitting, unsuitable black
clothes that he wore. An old-fashioned dress-coat, the long pointed
swallowtail of which lay like a train behind him on the grass, hung in
disorderly fashion about his bony frame; black, wrinkled trousers, a
black waistcoat sufficiently open to display linen of doubtful
cleanliness, a high, rusty, black silk cravat, from which projected the
huge points of his shirt-collar on each side of his beardless chin,
formed this extraordinary being's attire, which was, moreover,
completed by a very tall and very shabby stove-pipe hat.
The hymn came to an end, but the singer did not change his attitude; he
still held up his clasped hands to the skies. For a few moments he was
silent; then, in a loud voice, he uttered an extemporaneous prayer.
"God of heaven," he cried, "a repentant wretch casts himself upon Thy
mercy! Pardon my betrayal of my trust, my having again yielded to
temptation. Pardon what I have done and what I am about to do. Receive
me into Thy kingdom. Amen!"
With these words he suddenly sprang up; his clumsy black hat fell off
upon the grass as he did so, but he paid it no attention. Clasping his
hands above his head, he leaned forward, gazed for an instant into the
deep green water of the lake, exclaimed, "God forgive me!" and plunged
in head-foremost.
Thus far the listener had watched without stirring a limb or giving the
slightest sign of his presence; but at this sudden termination of the
prayer he broke through the thick underbrush, and in a moment had
reached the spot whence the singer had taken the fatal plunge. Here he
threw off his coat and hat, keenly scanning the while the lake where
the man had disappeared, and where the water was still troubled and
sending forth huge rippling circles, while a dark body was visible
beneath the surface.
The young man looked about him for some piece of shelving shore where a
swimmer could easily clamber upon land; scarcely ten steps to the left
he saw what he desired, and in another moment the ripples of the lake
broke over his head also.
He was an expert swimmer; when but a mere lad he had saved the life of
a drowning comrade at the risk of his own, so tightly had the sinking
boy clasped him in his despairing grasp. He remembered this as he now
rose to the surface, and seeing a dark form directly before him he
merely gave it a powerful push in the direction of the shelving shore,
taking good care to avoid the grasp of the wildly struggling man.
Keeping clear of this, he contrived to push him before him as he swam
to the landing-place. As soon as he felt the ground beneath him,
however, he seized the half-suffocated singer by the arm and dragged
him ashore. The rescue had been easy, and had occupied but a very few
moments of time.
For a while the rescued man lay gasping on the bank; then he started up
and gazed wildly at his preserver, who stood quietly looking at him.
The unfortunate man presented a still odder and uglier appearance than
before; his long black hair hung in dripping locks over his pale face,
and his wrinkled coat clinging to his spare figure was more ridiculous
than ever.
"Why did you not let me die?" he cried, wringing his hands.
The young man half smiled. "You are right," he replied; "it was very
stupid of me. It always is so when I act upon the impulse of the
moment. Had I taken time to consider I should have said to myself,
'This gentleman is tired of life and voluntarily puts an end to it; you
have no right to interfere with so reasonable a proceeding.' I should
then have seated myself up there on the bank, and have looked on as you
came two or three times, to the surface gasping for breath, sinking to
rise again, and hastening your death, perhaps, by the frantic efforts
you made to retain a detested existence. Finally, you would have sunk
to rise no more, and at this moment you would be lying quiet and
comfortable, with only a slight quiver of the limbs, at the bottom of
the lake. My impetuosity has deprived me of an interesting spectacle
and prevented your fulfilment of a sensible and laudable intention. I
pray your pardon, and would suggest that you can repair the wrong I
have done. We are but a few steps away from the high bank whence you
took your plunge into the lake. The spot was admirably selected, for
the water here is too shallow for your purpose. I promise you that you
shall not be disturbed again; I will look on with the greatest
interest."
The young man's quiet words filled his hearer with horror; his arms
dropped by his sides, and his prominent eyes opened wider and protruded
still farther from his head. He shuddered at the description of his
death-agony; he looked in fear at his preserver, who could talk so
calmly of such horrors, and when the latter proposed that he should try
another plunge into the lake he was seized with a nameless dread.
Involuntarily he recoiled a step, and with a gesture of abhorrence
cried, "No, no, I cannot! It was too horrible! When the dark water
closed over me, and I sank deeper and deeper, the suffocation, the
dreadful noises in my ears, the throbbing in my temples--no, I cannot
do it again!"
"Indeed? True, death by drowning cannot be agreeable; I have heard so
before from one of my acquaintances who very nearly lost his life in
the water. The death-struggle is too long; it must be most unpleasant.
Now, a bullet through the head is instantaneous. I will make you
another suggestion; I owe it to you since I have interfered with your
plans in so uncalled-for a manner. My coat lies on the bank yonder; in
its breast-pocket there is a six-barrelled revolver. I was just putting
it to my temple when I was arrested by your song. I only need two or
three balls for my purpose. Come up on the bank with me, wait until my
work is done, and my revolver is at your service. How people will
wonder when the two bodies are found after a while lying peacefully
side by side! What odd stories will be told of a duel without
witnesses, or some such stupid nonsense! It is a pity one cannot be by
to hear them. Come, we will soon make an end of the tiresome affair."
"I cannot! I cannot do it a second time! Good God! I can neither live
nor die! Help me, I implore you! Shoot me down with your revolver; I
cannot do it myself! Kill me! I will bless you with my dying breath!"
He flung himself upon his knees, wringing his hands, as he implored his
preserver to kill him, but the young man shook his head decidedly, as
he replied, "Very sorry, but the part of an executioner does not suit
me; one must conclude such matters one's self, or let them alone. If
you will not comply with my suggestion, there is nothing for you but to
go on living. I wish you joy of it."
"Good God! what shall I do? I implore you to help me, to advise me!"
"How can I possibly advise you, when I have no knowledge of you or of
the circumstances that have driven you to despair?"
"I will tell you about it. I am the most miserable man in the world!
You have saved my life, and I will confide my wretchedness, my
disgrace, to you."
The young man looked down thoughtfully for a moment before he said,
"Very well, tell me. An hour more or less makes no difference. Let us
sit down in the shade on the grass; you shall pour out your woes to me,
and if I can give you help or counsel, I will do so."
"Will not the shade be rather too cool for us in our wet clothes? We
might catch cold."
The young fellow laughed aloud at this strange mixture of despair and
dread of taking cold.
"Well, then, sit in the sun," he said, still laughing. "I prefer the
shade, since a cold is of no consequence to me. And now, since we find
ourselves comrades after this odd fashion, here at our ease, you can
initiate me in the dark mysteries of your life. I promise you an
attentive listener."
He had thrown himself down beneath a huge beech-tree, while his
companion was looking for a seat on some stone in the blazing sunshine.
"My wet clothes will soon dry here," said the singer. "When they are
dried on the body they do not lose their shape." And as he spoke he
looked down sadly at the long wet tails of his coat as they draggled
dripping behind him. There was no trace to be seen in him of the
contrition and despair which had possessed him a few moments since, his
whole mind was given to the choosing of a spot in the sunshine. At last
he found a fragment of rock which suited him, he sat down upon it, and
leaning forward propped his elbows upon his knees and his chin upon his
hands. In this attitude he looked, as his companion could not but
inwardly observe, like a strange caricature of incredible ugliness. He
paused a while to reflect, and then began, in a whining, lachrymose
tone,--
"I have always been a child of misfortune. The Lord has punished me
with the greatest severity for my sins, although I have tried to lead a
pious, resigned life, however heavily His hand might be laid upon
me. Wherefore, O Lord, shouldst Thou thus visit Thy most devoted
servant----"
He could not go on, for his listener had stopped his ears, and
exclaimed angrily, "Stop, stop! nothing in the world is quite so
detestable and tiresome as circumlocution. If I am to listen, you
must be brief, simple, and unaffected. Let us have no whining
sentimentality. I hate it! Give me a clear, simple statement of facts."
"Out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh," was the reply to
this blunt interruption of the man's flow of eloquence. "I will command
my emotion, if I can, out of regard for you, my preserver. I have
always been unlucky; my very name was a misfortune,--not my first name,
Gottlieb, which I received in holy baptism, but my surname,
Pigglewitch. I always see a smile of derision upon the lips of those
who hear it for the first time, when a boy I was always laughed at for
my name, and this trial has never left me. But I will not murmur; it is
the Lord's will that I inherit such a title, and His ways are always
right. How can we, weak mortals that we are----"
"Hold, friend Pigglewitch! You are forgetting again. No preaching!"
"I have done," Gottlieb Pigglewitch replied, instantly subsiding into
an ordinary narrative style. "My father was pastor of Wilhelmshagen. I
scarcely remember him, he died when I was not quite six years old; my
mother had died at my birth, and her brother now took me home, or
rather kept me in my home, for he succeeded to my father's position. He
said he befriended the orphan for the love of God, but he never showed
me any affection, even as a little child I had to work hard for my
daily food, he employed me to tend first his geese and afterwards his
sheep. I was sent with the other village children to the village
school, but as soon as I came home I had to work for my uncle, and the
dread of a beating often made me perform tasks that were far beyond my
strength. I was given many a blow, with very little to eat, and never a
kind word; my uncle declared that I was a good-for-nothing, lazy young
hypocrite and liar, who could not be treated too severely, I was fit
for nothing but a stupid tiller of the ground. As such he meant to
bring me up, but Herr Brandes, the Schulze of Wilhelmshagen, befriended
me. He had been a friend of my father's, and would have taken me into
his house and brought me up with his daughter Annemarie, who is two
years younger than I, only he did not wish to interfere with my uncle.
"Nevertheless he stood my friend, and often when I was very hungry I
got a good meal at his house; little Annemarie, too, would sometimes
bring a piece of bread out to me in the fields and stay a while and
play with me. Those were the only happy hours I can remember as a
child. It was a time of sore trial, and I, unworthy sinful man----"
"Friend Pigglewitch!"
"Ah, to be sure! Well, the Schulze befriended me. 'After all, he is a
pastor's son,' he said to my uncle, 'and every one is saying that he is
being brought up like the son of a day-labourer.' My father had left me
a small patrimony amounting to about a thousand thalers, and Herr
Brandes told my uncle that he ought to demand a portion of this from
the Guardians' Court, to be spent in sending me to town to school,
where I might be suitably educated. At first my uncle refused to do
this, he found me too useful on the farm, but he yielded at last to the
Schulze's representations, seeing clearly that he should lose credit by
refusing any longer to do so. So I was sent to town to board with one
of the teachers of the public school. I nearly starved there, and I
often wished myself back in Wilhelmshagen, where I could always get
something to eat at the Schulze's, for Annemarie was sure to put by a
morsel for me. From the public school I went to college, and I have
passed my examination as a Candidate for the ministry. The Lord was
gracious to me. My mind moves slowly, and when I went up for
examination I was conscious of ignorance with regard to various
branches of secular knowledge. I was afraid of being plucked, but the
Herr Director encouraged me. He told me to trust in the Lord, who would
not forsake the most faithful of His servants. So I went up for
examination, and passed, although all my fellow-students predicted my
failure. Immediately afterwards, through the influence of the Herr
Director, I obtained a position as private teacher in Wilhelmshagen. I
was delighted to receive my first employment in my old home. My uncle
had left the place for a better parish in Wennersdorf, in Silesia, and
I was quite free. Never have I felt so happy as then. I never dreamed
that the Lord was about to try me beyond my strength,--poor, sinful man
that I am. I had hitherto lived with the greatest economy. I had never
had a penny in my pocket. My comrades at the public school and in
college cared nothing for me,--they called me a hypocrite, laughed at
me when I failed in my lessons, and would have nothing to do with me.
Now I suddenly found myself freed from all restraint. I had a position,
and moreover, as I was of age, the rest of my patrimony amounting to
five hundred thalers was paid over to me. I had money and friends. The
sons of the wealthiest peasants made much of me; formerly they took no
notice of me, now they felt it an honour to have me join them at the
village inn and drink a glass or play a game of cards with them, which
last I was only too glad to do. I never could resist the sight of a
card. Often, when I returned home at night after having lost my money
at play, I repented with tears and vowed never again to touch a card. I
prayed to the Lord for strength to keep my vow, and resolved never to
go near the inn again; but the next Saturday evening the temptation was
sure to be too strong for me. I could not resist it.
"The Schulze had received me with great cordiality upon my return to
Wilhelmshagen, and Annemarie had fallen upon my neck and given me an
honest kiss. I was always welcome at the Schulzenhof. I loved my dear
Annemarie, and she returned my love."
The young man, who lying stretched upon the grass had hitherto listened
quietly, only interrupting the narrative now and then with a word of
warning when Gottlieb Pigglewitch's discourse grew too unctional,
started and sat upright when the speaker uttered the word love. He
stared in amazement at the forlorn, bedraggled figure perched on the
stone before him. Could it be? That caricature of humanity was talking
of love, and there was a girl in the world who returned the affection
of a Gottlieb Pigglewitch!
The young man's surprise was so evident that Gottlieb became
embarrassed. "What is the matter?" he asked timidly.
"My worthy Pigglewitch, you have converted me to a belief in miracles.
Seriously I begin to have faith in them. In fact is it not a miracle
that I am actually interested in you and your history? I thought that
nothing in this tedious world could entertain me; you have shown me
that I was mistaken. Go on with your story. You had just come to where
you loved and were loved in return."
"Yes, so it was. It was a brief period of bliss," Gottlieb Pigglewitch
went on, with a deep-drawn sigh. "I trifled away my happiness by my own
folly. The Schulze, who had received me so kindly, altered his
treatment of me after a while. He remonstrated with me once or twice,
telling me that it was not the thing for a teacher to sit until
midnight of a Saturday drinking and playing cards with the young
fellows of the village, such conduct was, at all events, quite beneath
the son of a pastor, who, as such, ought to stand upon his dignity. I
promised him then to shun the inn, but when Saturday came I could not
withstand the burning desire for play. I dreamed of the cards and of
the gains they might bring me, I had to go whether I would or not.
Then, when I went the next evening to the Schulzenhof, Annemarie would
receive me with tearful eyes, and her father with hard words. I was no
longer welcome there, and I knew why. A hundred times I vowed
improvement, but in vain. In short, I went on playing,--I could not
help it,--and because I almost always lost, I drank too much in my
despair. Several times my companions had to take me home drunk. I was
most unfortunate. After living three years in Wilhelmshagen, I had to
leave it. I had lost my entire patrimony at play, and with only twenty
thalers in my pocket I had to look for another situation. When I bade
farewell to Annemarie, I thought I should have died, only the hope of
seeing her again sustained me. I knew that the Herr Director in town
would befriend me and procure me another situation. I told the Schulze
this, and since I was on the subject of my hopes, I confessed my love
for Annemarie, and declared my intention of returning to ask for her
hand so soon as I had found another situation. I should not have had
the courage to say this to him had I not just bidden good-by to my
comrades in the inn parlor, where I had taken a glass more than was
good for me. The Schulze did not let me finish my sentence, he called
me a vagabond, a gambler, and a drunkard, who had squandered his
patrimony, and who never should marry his child. If I ever became a
respectable man once more, and could save up from my earnings the five
hundred thalers I had lost, I might come to see them again, but not
until then. And he thrust me from his door without even letting me give
my Annemarie a farewell kiss. With despair in my heart I left
Wilhelmshagen. My patron, the Herr Director, to whom I first applied,
received me with a severe reproof; but when I had described with many
tears my struggles, my agony, and my firm resolve to do better, he took
pity upon me, and got me a situation in Berlin with a salary of twenty
thalers a month."
"You could not possibly live in Berlin upon twenty thalers a month!"
his hearer exclaimed.
"But I did do so. Of course I had to practise strict economy, and I
could not lay by anything; but, as I had no acquaintances there to
tempt me to drink or play, I got along. I had been more than a year in
Berlin, when just three weeks ago to-day I received a letter from my
patron, the Herr Director. He wrote me that he had heard with pleasure
from my principal that I had become a respectable, industrious man. As
there is more joy in heaven over one sinner----"
"Pigglewitch!"
"Well, the Herr Director wrote me that he had recommended me for a very
advantageous situation to a Frau von Osternau, of Osternau, in Silesia,
who had applied to him for a tutor for her son, a boy six years of age.
I was to reside with the family and receive three hundred thalers
yearly. I could enter upon my duties immediately. He enclosed a letter
of introduction to Frau von Osternau, and another to my Principal
requesting him to put no obstacle in the way of my good fortune, but to
release me immediately from my engagement to him. I was supremely
happy. Three hundred thalers and my board! I could save up two hundred
thalers a year, and in two years and a half at the latest I should have
my five hundred thalers again. I went instantly to my Principal, who,
however, declared that he could not possibly spare me before the 3d of
July. This I wrote to the Herr Director, and in a few days heard from
him in reply that Frau von Osternau was willing to wait, and that she
would expect me on the 6th of July."
"The 6th of July? Why, that is the day after tomorrow."
"Precisely. The day after to-morrow. I left my situation yesterday,--a
day of misery which has ruined my life forever. So soon as I received
from the Herr Director the letter which confirmed my hopes of the
situation at Osternau I wrote to my Annemarie and told her of my good
luck, in three years at the furthest, I wrote her, we should be
married. I had written several letters to her during the year, and had
received no reply from her; now I had an answer by return of mail. Her
father had forbidden her, she told me, to reply before, but now that he
had hopes of my becoming a respectable man once more, he had permitted
her to write. She would be true to me, and surely wait the three years
for me, but she was nevertheless afraid that we never should be man and
wife, for she was forced to go with her father across the sea to
America. They had been very unfortunate,--their farm-house had been
burned down just after harvest, before the crops had been insured, and
her father had therefore resolved to dispose of his farm and to try his
fortune in America. Everything was prepared for their departure. Her
father was to bring her to Berlin on the 1st of July, that he might
receive the last payment of the purchase-money of his estate, and on
the 3d they were to leave for Bremen, whence their passage to America
was taken. I might expect them at the railway-station on the evening of
the 1st, and we could at least spend a few hours together. It was a
dear, good letter, as good and kind as my Annemarie herself. I wept as
I read it, so transported was I with delight. She would be true to me.
In three years I should have enough to follow her to America. Perhaps I
could buy a small farm there with my five hundred thalers, and become a
farmer. The world lies open to the man who has money, he can purchase
every conceivable delight."
"Do you think so?" the listener drawled, contemptuously. "But go on; I
beg pardon for interrupting you."
"On the evening of the 1st I received the Schulze and Annemarie at the
railway-station, and went with them to the little inn where they were
to lodge. Annemarie was unchanged, and the Schulze was as cordial to me
as he had been formerly. He read my patron's letter carefully, as also
the testimonial which my Principal had given me. He expressed his
satisfaction with my plans for the future, and promised that he would
give me Annemarie so soon as I could show him five hundred thalers of
my own. His confidence in me was entirely restored, as was shown me the
next day, when, after he had received all the purchase-money for his
estate, he intrusted to me twelve hundred and seventy-two marks to hand
over to my uncle in Wennersdorf. Many years ago my uncle had loaned
this money upon interest to the Schulze, and had always objected to its
repayment, but now, upon the eve of his departure for America, the
Schulze as an honest man insisted upon returning it. On my way to
Osternau in Silesia, it would be very easy for me to turn a little
aside and visit my uncle Widman, at Wennersdorf. The Schulze impressed
it upon me to get a receipt for the money and transmit it to him. I had
a delightful day with my Annemarie and her father, and yesterday
morning I accompanied them to the railway-station, where I took leave
of them. At noon I was to leave for Wennersdorf, whence, after leaving
the money with my uncle Widman, I could continue my journey to
Osternau. Everything was ready for my departure.
"When Annemarie and her father had left me, and I turned away from the
railway-station, my heart was so heavy that I could hardly bear it. I
felt so weak, so forlorn, that I needed something to strengthen me, and
I turned into a small restaurant to get a glass of beer. I seated
myself at a table, and I had hardly done so before three men, who had
entered the house just after me, took their places at my elbow. In the
early morning we four were the only people in the room. The men talked
for a while, and then began to play cards,--lansquenet,--taking no
notice of me. I looked on, not thinking of playing; but when I saw the
thalers passing from hand to hand, as the game grew more absorbing, my
interest grew keen, and the wretched passion for play was again aroused
within me. I was seized with an uncontrollable desire to join the game.
The Evil One had me in his clutches once more----"
"Go on, Pigglewitch, go on!"
"Forgive me; I could not help it. I was, indeed, possessed by a demon.
I asked the gentlemen if I might take part in the game, they assented,
and in an instant I had joined them. I had not played for more than a
year, but the passion for gambling had got hold of me. I lost, doubled
the stakes, lost again, and went on increasing the stakes in hopes of
winning back my money. Still I went on losing, in my desperation I
drank glass after glass, everything reeled before my eyes, and when at
the end of an hour I had staked my last piece of money, I suddenly
became conscious that I had gambled away my life. I was a thief
condemned to jail, for I had lost not only my own money, but the sum
intrusted to me for my uncle. I sat alone at the table, the gentlemen
had left me, finding I had nothing more to lose, and I had not noticed
their departure. The last hour seemed to me like an evil dream. I laid
my head upon the table and wept. After a while a waiter roused me and
requested me to leave, my score had been paid by my friends. I
staggered out of the place. How I reached my lodgings I do not know. I
lay in a feverish stupor all day long, in the evening I came to myself.
How terrible was my awaking! I now saw clearly what I had done. I knew
that I was lost. My uncle would demand his money of me. I should be
handed over to the authorities as a thief. I should be sent to jail. I
was lost,--lost past rescue. But I would die sooner than be sent to
jail.
"Suddenly there arose in my memory the picture of the lake of
Wandelitz. How often in my boyhood had I wandered away from
Wilhelmshagen to this quiet lake in the forest, and, seated upon the
bank yonder, passed hours in dreaming and gazing down into the green
depths of water! The thought of it came to me like an inspiration.
I gathered myself together. On the chair beside my bed lay my
travelling-bag, I packed it early in the morning for my noon-day
departure, and it contained, as I now remembered, ten silver thalers,
every penny I possessed in the world. It was enough to purchase a
ticket for Wilhelmshagen, whither I might go by the night train. I
scarcely know what followed,--how I set out, how I arrived here. I only
remember that I sang a hymn, and then--well, you know the rest. I am an
unfortunate, miserable wretch!"
"You're a very queer fellow, friend Pigglewitch," the other declared,
in answer to Gottlieb's last desperate exclamation. "You are a compound
of contradictions. I do not understand you, and least of all can I
comprehend how a fellow can be so overwhelmed by despair at losing a
paltry twelve hundred marks at cards. Such a trifle!"
"I was horrified at the prison which awaited me," Pigglewitch declared.
"Oh, I am lost,--lost beyond all hope!"
For a while his companion made no reply, but sat looking dreamily
across the lake, while he mechanically plucked to pieces a tiny
wild-flower. His face, rather handsome than otherwise, suddenly lost
its habitual expression of weary indifference, a smile played about the
lips, the dreamy eyes sparkled.
"Friend Pigglewitch," he said, scrutinizing keenly the odd figure
before him, "an idea has suddenly occurred to me,--an original, some
sensible people might call it an insane, idea! You, friend Pigglewitch,
play an important part in the development of this idea. You please me,
you interest me, and that is saying a great deal, for I assure you that
it is years since I have taken any interest in anything, or any
pleasure in a living creature with the exception of my Bello, an
abominable mongrel pug, whose intense ugliness pleased me. But, as I
said, you too please me. It would be no end of a pity if so magnificent
a sample of humanity should be early snatched from this world by
despicable suicide. I now rejoice that I pulled you out of the water.
You must live!"
"Why do you jeer at me?" Pigglewitch asked, in a doleful tone of
reproach. "I have done you no harm, and have told you all my story."
"In return for which you shall have mine, with but some trifling
reservations. It is but reasonable that you, in return for this recital
of your life and its woes, should listen to mine. It will be much
shorter than yours, for I really have had no experiences. My name
is--but why need you know my name? you cannot care for it, and I am
quite sure you will find it easier not to mention it if you do not know
it. Since from my earliest infancy Fortune has showered upon me her
choicest gifts, I will call myself Fritz Fortune. Yes, Fritz Fortune
had from his birth everything that mankind considers a means of
happiness. His health was perfect, they say he was a very handsome boy,
he had quick powers of mind, a lively intelligence which enabled him to
learn without trouble; he was the only son of an immensely wealthy
father, his every desire was fulfilled before it was expressed. He had
everything, everything, except one mere trifle of no real consequence
in life,--affection. The stupid fellow, however, thought he wanted it.
He loved his kind, and longed for love in return, but he did not find
it. His mother had no time to bestow upon him. She was wonderfully
lovely, and always surrounded by a crowd of adorers. There was not a
moment of her day not given to society or to dressing for some grand
entertainment, how could she possibly find a moment to devote to the
boy, who was, besides, admirably cared for by a most expensive tutor
and an excellent housekeeper? When Fritz Fortune was ten years old his
mother died suddenly of disease of the heart. He did not miss her, for
he scarcely knew her. His father was a model parent, he was willing to
make any sacrifice for the child, upon whom he lavished enormous sums
of money, save one,--the sacrifice of his time, which was devoted
partly to business, but mostly to pleasure. Weeks passed continually
without the boy's even seeing his father, but then no toy was too
expensive to be purchased for him so soon as he expressed a wish for it
to the housekeeper, there was no delicacy upon which he might not feed
until it disgusted him. Everything, everything save affection was
lavished upon him. Was he not the silliest of lads in that so far from
being contented he sometimes shed bitter tears over his lot? He had
soon done with tears, however. His tutor did just as the boy told him
to, and the housekeeper and all the servants followed his example.
Fritz Fortune's will was never gainsaid, if he had not chosen of his
own accord to go to school, he never would have been sent there, but he
was tired of his home, and hoped to be better entertained at school,
consequently to school he went. There too luck pursued him. As he
was clever enough and studied diligently, not from love of books
but to beguile the time, he learned readily. He outstripped his
school-fellows, and they consequently hated him, but as his pockets
were always filled with money and school-boy dainties which he
scattered with a lavish hand, the young rogues took care to conceal
their dislike of him. They flattered the son of the wealthy banker, and
for a short time the boy was really happy, for he thought himself
beloved by his school-mates, for whom he had a sincere affection.
Chance opened his eyes. He accidentally overheard a conversation
between two boys whom he thought his best friends. Every word then
spoken revealed their hatred, their mean envy of their comrade. It was
enough. Fritz Fortune no longer lavished either gifts or affection upon
his school-fellows, and they no longer concealed the true nature of
their feelings towards him. They pursued him with falsehoods and
calumny. There was a fresh battle to be fought at every recess, he was
agile and strong, and declined none of them. Since he returned every
blow with interest, and in addition had the teachers on his side, so
that after a fight his opponents were the ones selected for punishment,
he came out of all these contests victorious. He continued to be
Fortune's favourite, but he was not happy, he was solitary and alone
among his fellows.
"When only sixteen years old he passed a brilliant examination and
entered the university, where he studied,--that is to say, he fluttered
about from one science to another. There was no need of his pursuing
any laborious course of study: he was wealthy in his own right by
inheritance from his mother, and was, besides, the only son of an
immensely wealthy father, who gave him everything save affection. His
career at the university was as successful as at school. Whatever he
attempted was a success. He was a capital boxer, an untiring swimmer, a
bold rider,--he was an object of admiration and envy.
"He had learned somewhat at school, his bitter experiences there had
not been lost upon him. Again he scattered his money with a lavish
hand, he was surrounded by flatterers and friends, but he now knew what
they were worth. He despised the rabble of young men as he had despised
their childish prototypes, but he was too wise to let this be seen.
Solitude was too tedious. He wanted to enjoy life. To do this he needed
jolly companions, his money bought him these. He drank deep of all
these delights of student life, he was always surrounded by a merry
throng of so-called good friends, but he was often wretchedly forlorn
and unhappy.
"The wild, gay life that he led filled him with disgust, he forced
himself to seem carelessly merry when he was constantly a prey to
mortal ennui. Of course Fritz Fortune was a favourite with women. He
had not in appearance fulfilled, it is true, the promise of his
boyhood, but he was by no means an ugly fellow, and, what was far more
to the point, he was rich, very rich. He was everywhere received with
distinction,--the mothers flattered his vanity, the daughters met his
advances far more than half-way. Once or twice, when a pair of blue
eyes looked innocently into his own, when a rosy cheek blushed rosier
still at his words, he thought the glance and the blush due to his real
self, his heart beat high, hope dawned within him, but he was sure to
be cruelly undeceived. Some skilled coquette behind a mask of maidenly
innocence had been speculating upon his wealth, but Fortune still
befriended him in that he discovered in time the net in which he was to
have been caught. He escaped, it is true, but every vestige of his
faith in mankind was left behind him in the toils that had been spread
for him.
"When he left the university he had not decided upon a career. Should
he take part in his father's business? He had no inclination to do so.
Why should he devote himself to the accumulation of wealth? The
business was in trustworthy, competent hands; his father, it is true,
was at the head of it, but he paid little attention to its details;
more as a pastime than as a necessity he spent a couple of hours in his
counting-room every day, all the rest of his time was devoted to
pleasure. He had no desire that his son should apply himself to
business. He was so tender a father that he gladly fulfilled his son's
every wish, only asking in return that his son should not interfere
with him or with his little amusements. Could a son ask more of a
parent? Certainly Fritz Fortune's was a most enviable lot. He was
surrounded by young men of rank who called themselves his devoted
friends, and he was an idol among women. Wherever he went he was
treated with distinction, he drained every delight of the German
capital to the dregs, there was no necessity for his denying himself a
single pleasure. Whatever money could procure might be his, for his
father's cashier stood ready to honour his drafts to any amount. What
could he desire more? And yet the foolish fellow was absolutely
wretched; he had but one wish, and to fulfil it money was of no
avail,--he wished to be relieved from the mortal tedium of an
insufferable existence. The amusements of the capital disgusted him,
society bored him, he had no interest in any pursuit, he could not
decide to pursue any particular branch of study; even music, which had
formerly helped him to pass many a lonely hour, no longer attracted
him. In glowing physical health, his weary mind was 'sickening of a
vague disease,' his only wish being to close his eyes never to open
them again.
"It was some time before it occurred to him that it was within his
power to gratify this wish by a firm resolve. He had become too
indolent even to think, but yesterday this brilliant idea occurred to
him. It was suggested by his reading in the morning's paper that a
young banker of his acquaintance had shot himself. What in this case
had been done in despair might also be done to put an end to the tedium
of existence. His spirits improved on the instant, the mere thought
that he could rid himself of his burden dissipated his weariness for a
while.
"He pondered upon what his numerous dear friends would say if he should
suddenly vanish from Berlin, leaving no trace of his whereabouts. His
fancy was excited. He made all sorts of plans for best putting an end
to his wretched existence without causing an immediate report of his
death to be spread abroad in Berlin.
"For the first time for years he was really entertained for a couple of
hours, so great was his interest in the different schemes thus
contemplated. Forthwith he proceeded to the carrying out of his
resolve. He drew from his father's bank a considerable sum of money,
that his friends might be led quite astray as to his disappearance,
called upon several acquaintances, showed himself at the theatre, and
left Berlin by the night-train.
"Some years previously, in a summer excursion, he had noticed a
charming forest in the neighbourhood of Wilhelmshagen. He remembered
that one might wander there for hours and find no thoroughfare.
"In this forest he determined to search out a secluded spot, where his
body might lie undiscovered for weeks. This plan he pursued. Was he not
Fortune's favourite? He saw no one whom he knew at the railway-station.
He made his journey entirely alone, in a first-class carriage, and,
reaching Wilhelmshagen in the early morning, entered the forest without
meeting a human being. Every trace of him was lost, no one could
surmise what had become of him. For some hours he wandered about until
he found a spot suitable for his purpose. Here he lay down upon the
grass, and once more passed in mental review his entire wearisome,
frustrated existence, it seemed to him so forlorn and pitiable that he
was but confirmed in his resolution. He was about to carry it into
effect, he had in fact raised his revolver for the purpose, when he
heard a hymn sung near at hand. He dropped his hand, and--the rest you
know. This is the history of Fritz Fortune. How do you like it, my
worthy Pigglewitch?"
Gottlieb stared at the narrator with unutterable astonishment in his
prominent eyes. "And is that all?" he asked, thinking it impossible
that he had heard the end of the tale.
"Do you wish for more? As I told you, my story is brief, but edifying."
"Were you then going to shoot yourself out of mere _ennui_, Herr
Fortune? It is inconceivable, impossible! I am almost always bored,
especially when I am alone, but it never occurred to me to shoot myself
upon that account. How can such an idea enter the head of any one who
has money?"
A bitter smile hovered about Fortune's lips. "That precisely the view
of the mass of mankind," he said. "Whoever has money must be happy, and
the silly fools rush after wealth, never perceiving that there is no
greater misery than what they call happiness. If I were poor, if I had
to strive and contrive for a pittance for my daily bread, if I had a
single aim in life worth attaining, I too might perhaps endure
existence. This thought occurred to me while you were telling your
story, and I suddenly fancied that I should like to try whether
existence under your circumstances could make the burden of life
supportable. Should it prove as devoid of interest, as tiresome and
insufferable as my former existence, I can always have recourse to my
faithful revolver. I will make you an offer, friend Pigglewitch. If you
accept it, it will help us both, you perhaps forever, myself at least
for a while, but that is not your affair. The dearest wish of your
heart at present is to be able to pay your uncle his money, and to gain
as quickly as possible the five hundred thalers to enable you to follow
your Annemarie to America. Are you willing to make a sacrifice to
accomplish this end?"
"Any, every sacrifice!" Pigglewitch cried, eagerly. "Ask what you will
of me, it shall be done."
"I will not ask much. You shall have the round sum of three thousand
five hundred marks--just enough to pay your uncle, replace your
patrimony, and take you to America--if you will give me, to dispose of
as I may see fit, your beautiful name of Gottlieb Pigglewitch, with the
necessary articles and documents thereto belonging,--to wit, your
testimonials, credentials, letter of introduction to Osternau, etc.,
and, above all, your beautiful black suit, which fits you so
admirably,--promising also to go direct from here to Wilhelmshagen,
whence you can send your uncle his money, and whence you promise to
take the next train, by way of Berlin, to Bremen, where you will embark
in the first vessel bound for America, and all this without revealing
to a living soul the occurrences of the last two days."
"You are making game of me, Herr Fortune," Pigglewitch said, in his
most lachrymose tones; "but I must endure it, for you have saved my
life."
"Don't mention it. That is a debit and credit affair. Had you not sung
your hymn I should be lying in the forest with a bullet in my brains,
and you would be reposing peacefully beneath the green, crystal waters
of the lake. You certainly owe me nothing, and need think of nothing
save your own advantage in deciding whether or not to accept the
bargain I offer you, for I am not jesting. I make you the serious offer
of three thousand five hundred marks cash, payable upon the receipt of
your name, your credentials, your clothes, which you can exchange for
mine,--and not a bad exchange either, it seems to me,--and lastly, of
your express promise to emigrate immediately to America."
"Are you really not joking? Three thousand five hundred marks----"
"Cash. I pay _en amateur_. I like the beautiful name of Pigglewitch,
and your black coat, with its long, pointed swallow-tail, enchants me.
I am sure it will become me admirably."
Pigglewitch looked doubtfully at the young man, who spoke so calmly,
but whom he was inclined to pronounce insane. "What do you want to do
with my name and my credentials?" he said.
"I have lived a long time as Fortune, and for the sake of variety I
should like to live and labour for a while as Pigglewitch. For how
long? I do not know; and besides that is not the question between you
and me. I shall go on living from day to day until the Pigglewitch
existence also becomes intolerable to me. Come, decide, friend
Pigglewitch; will you accept my proposal or not?"
Gottlieb reflected. Herr Fritz Fortune was evidently quite insane. Only
a madman would kill himself from _ennui_ when his pockets were full of
money. His offer was a crazy one, but what business was that of
Gottlieb Pigglewitch? The proposal was most tempting,--three thousand
five hundred marks. He might well sell his credentials, which would be
valueless in America, for such a sum. Why should he not in his need
accept an offer which would lay the foundations of his fortune? It
would be unpardonable folly not to seize with both hands so unexpected
a piece of luck.
"If you are really in earnest," he said, with a suspicious look at Herr
Fortune,--"I can hardly believe it,--but if your offer is made
seriously, I will accept it."
"Bravo, friend Pigglewitch! you are a delightful fellow!" cried
Fortune. "There's my hand, the bargain is concluded."
With some hesitation Pigglewitch took the offered hand. He was still in
some doubt, but this vanished when Fortune sprang up and led him up the
bank whence a short time previously each had thrown himself into the
lake. Here upon the short grass lay Fortune's coat and hat, with
Pigglewitch's tall beaver and travelling-bag. In the breast-pocket of
his coat Fortune found a pocket-book, which he opened, taking from it a
thick bundle of bank-notes of a thousand or five hundred marks each,
with here and there one for a hundred only. At this sight everything
glimmered before the astonished eyes of Pigglewitch, who had never
before seen so much money together. And the happy possessor of this
wealth, which seemed quite 'beyond the dreams of avarice,' had very
nearly killed himself voluntarily a short hour previously. Oh, the poor
fellow was evidently mad, quite mad!
Meanwhile, Fortune selected three bank-notes of a thousand marks each,
and ten hundred-mark notes. "Here, friend Pigglewitch," he said, "are
four thousand marks; our bargain was for three thousand five hundred,
but I add the rest and make the four thousand complete on condition
that you make over to me your travelling-bag and its contents. I should
like to begin my new life fully equipped as Pigglewitch. Do you agree?"
"Oh, certainly. You are most generous. I thank you from my soul,
but----"
"But? Go on; why do you hesitate?"
"If you really wish to assume the life of a poor man like myself you
must not carry about you so well filled, a pocket-book."
Fortune looked up in surprise. "You are cleverer than I thought," he
said; "you are right. It were best to throw the entire rubbish into the
lake, where it can do no mischief."
"For God's sake, take care what you do, Herr Fortune!" Pigglewitch
exclaimed, in dismay, seizing the young man by the arm as he was about
to toss the pocket-book into the water. "It is a sin to destroy all
that beautiful money. If you do not want it, give it to me."
Fortune's hand fell by his side, he reflected for a moment, and then
said as he looked at Pigglewitch with a smile, "The appetite grows with
eating. A moment ago four thousand marks seemed wealth to you, now you
would like to have more. No, friend Pigglewitch, four thousand marks is
enough. If you cannot begin life afresh with that sum, a larger one
would assuredly plunge you into misery. But you were right,
nevertheless, to prevent me from destroying this money, it would have
been folly. I always act foolishly when I follow the impulse of the
moment, and I thank you for hindering me. I will keep the pocketbook.
There is no danger for me in the money, I know its worthlessness. Give
me your travelling-bag. Is there a key to it? Yes? Thank you. I will
deposit the pocket-book here in this bag, where it shall remain
untouched. And now we will exchange clothes. I am longing to don your
charming black suit as a bride longs to deck herself in her veil. We
are about the same height, we shall have no difficulty in the matter."
He took off his cravat and waistcoat, and with a shake of the head
Pigglewitch followed his example. In a few minutes the transformation
was complete. Fritz Fortune in the wet black suit confronted its amazed
former possessor; the clothes, 'a world too wide' for his slender,
muscular figure, dangled and hung loosely about him, he clapped the
tall black hat upon his head and exclaimed with a laugh as he looked at
himself in a small pocket-mirror which he had taken from his own coat,
"Horrible! ugly beyond belief! Indeed I am worthy of you, friend
Pigglewitch. But my poor fellow, how you look! You have the worst of
the bargain. My new summer coat suits you about as well as does a
dress-coat a poodle. Look at yourself!"
He handed Pigglewitch the little mirror. Gottlieb contemplated his
image with much complacency. He thought he presented an aristocratic
appearance in his elegant attire, and said so.
"Are you pleased? So much the better," said Fortune. "Then we are both
satisfied. And now, friend Pigglewitch, let us take leave of each
other, but first swear to me by all that you hold sacred, by the very
salvation of your soul, that you never will reveal to a human being
what has taken place between us, and that you will sail for America as
soon as possible."
"I swear it, so help me God! Amen!" Pigglewitch rejoined, raising his
hand towards the skies.
"Farewell, my worthy other self, then. Farewell until we meet in
another world more pleasantly than we did in this. You are going
towards Wilhelmshagen. My way lies in an opposite direction. Farewell."
He shook Pigglewitch cordially by the hand, took up the travelling-bag
and hung it by the handle on the end of a stick, which he rested upon
his shoulder. Then, with an elastic step, he started for the forest.