THE CHÂLET.
A few hours after Rudolf had gone, Hofer was standing at the door of
his hut, when he thought he saw a dark object stealthily moving among
the firs. At first he took it for some animal of prey, but his next
impression was that it was a human creature on all fours; and, as he
had certainly been himself seen, he thought he lost nothing by rushing
out on the intruder.
A man, creeping along under an ox-hide, started up, and proved to be
Franz.
"What do you here?" cried Hofer.
"Why, Sandwirth, can that be you?" said Franz, in seeming astonishment.
"Why, how you surprise me! How are you?--How altered you are, to be
sure!"
"Very likely, Franz; but the question is, what brought you here to seek
me?"
"Nothing brought me--how should I guess where you were?" returned
Franz, hardily. "I came to look for a strayed calf."
"Well--I've sought for a strayed calf too, in my time, but never up
this high in deep winter, nor yet on all fours with an ox-hide over me.
Franz!--now, don't tamper with an old friend. I've oft had dealings
with you, and I've done you many a kindness. You know, my lad, I'm in
jeopardy, and you know that if you say where I am, you will get me into
trouble--"
"What matter is it of mine?" grumbled Franz. "What good would it do me?"
"As to the _real_ good it would do you, I think you would get none; but
as to a handful of zwanzigers, I dare say they would give you so much,
for the price of your old friend's blood."
"Don't talk in that way, Sandwirth," said Franz, whiningly. "Poor as I
am,--and I'm very poor,--I hope I'm not so bad as you think me."
"Well, Franz, as to poor, you have made a good deal of money in your
time; and it has always been your way to be with full pockets one day
and empty ones the next--"
"But they're _always_ empty now, Sandwirth, for I can't do a stroke of
business, and my mother's dead, and my sister's married to Karl Hoven,
and Karl won't speak to me; so that I'm really what one may call _in
want_."
"Well, boy, well--the case is hard, I grant ye: but bad as it is,
you'll make it worse if you take to evil courses. Go to Nicolas Wagner
at Botzen--tell him that the last time you saw me, I bade you go to him
and say I hoped he would give you some employment. And be mum--do you
observe?--as to when that was. Stay, here are a couple of dollars--it's
but little I have myself, and I shall perhaps need them shortly, as
much as yourself; but you shall have them. Now, go; and forget where or
when you have seen me; and according as you are faithful to your old
comrade, may your worldly affairs prosper."
Franz looked sheepish, made a movement of his hand towards Hofer's,
drew it back, and crept off. Even his gait was that of a caitiff.
"How altered the Sandwirth is!" mused he--"his hair, that was raven
black, is now half grey; his beard looks as if it hadn't been trimmed
for a month. His face is full of lines and furrows, and he is very
thin. Why, he isn't half the bulk he was!--very likely, knows pretty
well what it is to want victuals. Well, so do I; and when a man wants
victuals, it makes him ready to do things that he wouldn't think of
doing when full fed. Why now, these two dollars will keep me four days,
I'll say--they won't keep me longer, because, this cold weather, I must
drink as well as eat. At the end of that time, I must starve, unless
through Father Donay; for, as to Nicolas Wagner of Botzen,--no, I
thank ye! I'm as good a fellow as he; I won't work under him! Still,
I can't be too hard upon the Sandwirth--I'll give him a fair start.
He dropped that perhaps he should soon be as much in want of dollars
as myself. Now, as he can't spend them on the mountain-top, that must
intimate that he means soon to leave it--very likely, now that he has
taken alarm at me, he'll steal off this very night. All the better for
us both, if he does. Because all I engaged for, to Father Donay, was to
find out where he was. I've done that, and I can lead to the spot; but
if, when they reach it, the steed is gone and the stable empty,--why,
that won't be _my_ fault, I say. Besides, they may soon make out his
track and follow it; but meanwhile, my part in the business will be
done. Well, but I won't do it while the Sandwirth's money is keeping
me in bread. No, no; I'll give him his chance while it lasts, and I'll
make it last four days--that will be hon ... hum!--I won't go a-near
Father Donay the while, or I shouldn't make it last so long, and he'd
get the secret out of me too soon--No, no."
At this instant, Franz--who, while his mind was thus pre-occupied,
had unwittingly followed the path by which Rudolf had gone to the
châlet instead of that by which he had returned from it--suddenly came
upon the two bears, who instantly pursued him; and in his hurry and
affright, he was precipitated down a steep acclivity, down which he
pitched over and over, till he found himself several hundred feet below
his shaggy enemies, bruised and breathless, but not seriously hurt.
The search which was being made for Speckbacher, all this time, was
quite as vigorous as for Hofer. Minute descriptions of his person and
dress were published, large rewards offered for his apprehension; and
every nook and corner eagerly searched for him by cruel and greedy
enemies.
Speckbacher, on separating from his comrades, had first concealed
himself in the little mountain hamlet of Dux; but his retreat being
discovered, he was obliged to retire from the haunts of man, and was
hunted from place to place, till at length he found refuge in heights
hitherto deemed inaccessible save to the eagle and vulture. Here he
underwent incredible sufferings from cold, hunger, and fatigue; but his
indomitable nature made him prefer it to submission to the enemy.
When Hofer returned to his châlet after the encounter with Franz, his
wife observed, "I really do think, Anderl, it is now time you should
cut off your beard. It makes you unlike everybody else; and, therefore,
easily recognisable at a distance; whereas, should a spy to whom you
were personally unknown, find his way up here, you, without your beard,
might easily persuade him you were somebody else."
"No, that would be the hardest thing in the world to me," said Hofer.
"He might deceive himself about me; but I could not deceive him.
Whenever a man has put to me the question, 'Are you Hofer?' I have
never yet said 'No;' and I cannot begin now."
Anna was going to remonstrate; but he smiled rather sadly at her and
said--
"It would be to little good, dear--we are already discovered by Franz."
Here Johann burst into a loud fit of crying, and flung himself on the
straw; while Anna stood speechless.
"We had better go somewhere else, then," said she, after a moment.
"Where? We dare not descend into the valleys; and if we stray about the
mountains, Rudolf will not know where to find us, and we shall perish
with hunger. Patience, dear wife! Rudolf may come again in a few days,
and we can then concert fresh measures with him; or the emperor's
safeguard may arrive in the meantime, and we can then avail ourselves
of it."
"Ah, I hope we shall!"
"No doubt of it. Cheer up, Johann! Perhaps you will be staring at the
pretty things in the shop-windows of Vienna in another fortnight. Come
here, and see me carve this horn, and I'll tell you a story about what
I used to do when I was a little boy."
While Hofer amused this wayward little son with one story after
another, rewarded therein by beguiling himself of his own heavy
thoughts, Anna stood musing, with her eyes wistfully fixed on her
husband's rifle.
"It has brought down many a man in battle," thought she; "and why not
now, if spies come lurking about him to make a prey of him? He would
not do it, I know; but, I declare, if I espy any one prowling about
that has no business here, I'll see if I can't manage to hit him
myself!"
Just four evenings after his previous visit, Rudolf reappeared. He did
not think their provisions could fall short yet; but he was anxious
about Franz, and he thought Hofer and his wife wanted cheering up, and
would be glad to know the message to the emperor was already on its
way; so he started with a fresh-filled basket.
This time he met with no interruptions, and had a prosperous journey;
he had also the comfort of finding his friends cheerful and hopeful.
They talked about his marriage with Theresa in the spring; the
household goods they would start with and those which they must
provide; and many a sage maxim of thrifty housewifery did Anna repeat
and Hofer laugh at, and Rudolf promise to bear faithfully in mind. The
evening, as usual, concluded with prayer. Hofer was now in the habit of
praying extempore and with great fervour, after the usual offices of
the church; and Anna was wont to go over her beads very devoutly, after
which they all joined in singing several simple hymns of a great many
verses, and then lay down for the night.
Rudolf, as usual, slept with Johann in the loft. He was tired with his
journey, and the evening had altogether been more satisfactory than he
expected; yet, somehow, he could not settle to sleep. The conversation
respecting his marriage had been too interesting and exciting to enable
him to compose himself; add to which, he had a vague fear of some evil
impending over the Sandwirth, for which he seemed to have no need.
When he slept by snatches, it was to dream painfully: of Theresa being
borne from him by Franz over crackling ice, beneath which they both
disappeared--of bears growling over her remains--of the emperor's
escort coming too late--of Hofer's hut being attacked at dead of
night--of the air ringing with the sharp reports of rifles--of his
throwing himself between Hofer and Franz. Rudolf awoke with a start;
and smiled to hear Johann talking in his sleep and saying, "Some more
soup, mother." Then he lay wakeful, but still, till day began to break,
when his quick ear became aware of the measured tread of many men over
the snow. Springing to his feet, he shouted to Hofer below,--"The enemy
are on us!" and leapt from the loft-window to the ground, followed
by the dizzy Johann, when both were immediately seized and bound.
The châlet was encircled by sixteen hundred French soldiers, come to
capture one unfortunate man.
The next instant, the châlet-door was opened from within; and there
stood the mild Hofer, in his red waistcoat and green jacket, with the
medal round his neck; his dark eye calmly looking around. His was the
first voice that broke the thrilling silence.
"Speaks any one among you German?"
The commandant, Captain Renouard, here stepped forward, accompanied by
a gendarme, and said, hurriedly--
"Are you Andreas Hofer?"
"I am."
The clear voice rang through the air. Turning to his wife, Johann, and
Rudolf, he said,--"These have offended in nothing; let them not be
bound."
Then, addressing those whom he loved so deeply, he said--
"Pray, and be steadfast. Suffer with patience: so will your sins be
forgiven."
Their bonds were not unloosed, and Hofer was heavily chained hand and
foot. Captain Renouard entered the châlet for a moment, looked around,
shrugged his shoulders, saw the noted rifle standing in the corner, and
brought it out.
"This is a clumsy piece, after all," said he, handing it to the
gendarme, after surveying it somewhat curiously. "Take care! it's
loaded!" dodging it in some alarm, as the gendarme handled it
carelessly. It would have been singular if he had been shot by Hofer's
rifle, after all--the rifle that Hofer would not fire in his own
defence.
The word of command was given; the troops closed around the prisoners,
and began to descend the mountain. Hofer trod as firmly as when the
master of Innsbruck. Anna's face was smeared with tears; but she was
too proud to sob, and chide Johann for crying. Rudolf's heart beat
wildly. He looked on every side for Franz; but Franz, having brought
the party to the verge of the hollow, had prudently decamped with
Father Donay, to enjoy such peace of mind as his conscience would
permit.
On approaching a village, the French band struck up a lively strain
of music, which nearly drove Anna out of her senses; and with loud
huzzas, they proclaimed to the people who came rushing from their
cottages, that they had captured the famous "General _Sanvird_; le
fameux _Birbone_." They were answered with tears, maledictions, and
lamentations. Though not permitted to approach the prisoners, the
villagers kept up with them, crying aloud in voices that the musicians
could not drown--
"Never mind, Sandwirth! They'll bring vengeance on their own heads,
Sandwirth! Keep a good heart! They won't dare to touch you! We'll
never, never forget you!"
And this in every town and village through which they passed.
On reaching Meran, they were joined by the weeping Theresa. She had
been seized and bound at _am Sand_, and the house plundered. The two
little girls had escaped and taken refuge with Rudolf's mother.
The only consolation of the unhappy family was that they were together;
but at Botzen they were sundered. Here they were received with more
courtesy and kindness by General Baraguay d'Hilliers than had yet been
accorded them. He would not triumph over a fallen foe, but received the
brave and unfortunate captive with a soldier's frankness. He affected
to be indignant at his chains, ordered them instantly to be struck
off, and appointed him and his family a tolerably commodious prison,
where they were treated with as little rigour as was consistent with
their safety. Here they enjoyed the last snatch of unrestrained family
intercourse they were destined to have on earth; it was embittered from
many sources, but yet it had its sweetness. Their friends also had
access to them; and many of the townspeople of Botzen came to express
their sympathy,--of whom Hofer asked forgiveness for anything they
might have to impute to him; but he was only answered by their tears.
The French officers, also, did all in their power to show, by their
attentions, their sense of the kindness exceeding mere humanity which
he had always shown his prisoners.
Some of them were surprised to behold the serenity of his countenance,
as he conversed with his family, and gave them various directions
concerning affairs small as well as great. There seemed no end to the
people to whom he charged them to give messages of kind remembrance;
often with some allusion to this one's wedding, or that one's illness,
which showed that his head was quite clear enough to keep in view their
minute affairs.
At length the hour of parting came, the last embrace was given, the
last kiss taken, though not the last tear wept, by many; when he
consigned his wife and children, in the companionship of Rudolf, to the
appointed escort of French soldiers who were to see them safely to _am
Sand_, and restore all the property that had been plundered.
"Sandwirth! I'll never forget you!--You'll soon be among us again!"
were the last words that burst from Rudolf, as he clasped his friend in
his arms, and then hurried away with tears streaming down his cheeks.
After the heart-breaking separation, one or two officers, with kindly
feelings, would have interrupted Hofer's solitude; but he mildly
requested to be left to himself. His guards said he prayed; whether he
wept, they did not say.
After a short interval of repose, he was sent, under a strong escort,
to Mantua, and confined in a prison near the Porta Molina, already
crowded by many Tyrolese.
He was speedily tried by a court-martial, which sat in the Palazzo
d'Arco. Its president was General Bisson, already embittered against
him and his cause by his own defeat. On comparing the votes, a great
difference of opinion was found as to the nature of his sentence. The
majority were for simple confinement: one or two had the courage to
vote for his complete acquittal; but a telegraph from Milan decided the
question by decreeing _death in twenty-four hours_,--thus putting the
mediation of Austria beyond his reach.
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