"He is asleep, I dare say."
"If he were sleeping his breast would rise and fall; but he is perfectly
still."
Marie rose, and hastened to the screen. The smoking wick in the
night-lamp near Cambray's head illumined his ghastly face. Marie had
already seen one such pallid countenance--that of the old servant Henry
when he lay dead on his bier.
She shuddered, and retreated with trembling limbs, drawing the lad with
her.
"You may light the candle now," she whispered; "then we will go back to
Lisette."
Laczko lighted the candle, then shouldered his gun, and preceded his
young mistress down the staircase to the lower story.
They had almost reached the door of Lisette's room when Marie, who had
been peering sharply ahead, stopped abruptly, and exclaimed in a
startled tone:
"There is a man!"
Even as she spoke a dark form stepped from a doorway into the corridor
in front of them. Marie retreated several steps; but her little escort
proved that he was made of sterner stuff. He placed himself valiantly in
front of his young mistress, laid his gun against his cheek, and aiming
directly for the stranger's breast, said, in a brave tone:
"Halt, or I will shoot you."
"That's my brave lad," commented the stranger. "But don't shoot. It is
I, your father."
"Don't come any nearer, I tell you!" responded the lad, threateningly.
"Why, I am not moving a muscle, lad; don't be foolish."
"What do you want here?" demanded Laczko. "I will not let you do any
harm to my mistress."
Here Marie, who had recovered from her alarm, came forward, and laid her
hand over her small defender's eyes.
"Take down your gun, Laczko," she commanded. Then turning to the
stranger asked: "What do you want, my good man?"
For answer the man merely pronounced a name:
"Sophie Botta."
Without an instant's hesitation, and although she shuddered
involuntarily when her eyes fell on the stranger's repulsive
countenance, the young girl went close to his side, and said calmly:
"What do you wish me to do?"
Satan Laczi held the thumb-ring toward her, and said:
"The person who wears this sent me to fetch you away from here. Are you
ready to come with me at once?"
"I am," replied Marie, who seemed unable to remove her eyes from the
hideously ugly face before her.
"My master," continued the ex-robber, "also bade me fetch a little steel
casket. Do you know where it is hidden?"
"The person who had it in her care has already taken it to your master,"
was Marie's response.
"Ah, she has taken it to him?" repeated Satan Laczi. "Then it is all
right. I know now what I have to do. My master bade me convey you to a
place of concealment; but my face is not exactly the sort to win
anybody's confidence. Besides, I know some one who can perform this
errand as well as I. The way to Raab is clear. Instead of taking you
there myself, my wife will go with you. I think you would rather have
her for a companion?"
"Yes, I think I would rather go with a woman," diplomatically assented
Marie.
"As an additional protection, take this little lad with you." Here the
ex-robber laid his hand on his son's shoulder, and looked proudly down
on him. "His heart is already in the right place. And then he is not a
wicked rascal like his father."
He was silent a moment, then added: "But I intend to reform. When my
master has spoken with the woman to whom he intrusted his treasures, and
if she has not betrayed him, then I know where he will be to-morrow. And
Satan Laczi will be there, too! Then I and my comrades will show them
what we can do. But come, we must make haste, and get on as far as
possible while the moon is shining."
"But I am not properly clad for a journey," interposed Marie.
"My wife brought a nice warm _bunda_ to wrap you in; it is in the
carriage out yonder," returned the ex-robber.
"One word first: you are acquainted with the man who made the metal
screen in my apartments. Could you see him?"
"He is in Count Vavel's service, and I can see him when I return to the
camp."
"Then tell him to come to the Nameless Castle at once. He understands
the secret spring of the screen, behind which he will find a dead man.
This man was a very good friend, and I want him properly buried."
"I will give Master Matyas your order."
Marie now took leave of the Nameless Castle, feeling that she would
never again come back to it. But she had not the courage to enter her
apartments again.
The four-horse coach waited at the park gate. Marie entered it, wrapped
the warm sheep-skin around her, and tied a cotton kerchief over her head
in peasant fashion. Satan Laczi's wife took a seat by her side; the
little Laczko climbed to the coachman's box, where he sat with his gun
between his knees. Then the coachman cracked his whip, and the vehicle
rattled down the road amid a cloud of dust. Satan Laczi looked after the
coach until it disappeared around a turn in the road. Then he blew a
shrill blast on his whistle, whereupon a number of wild-looking men,
each armed to the teeth, emerged from the shrubbery and came toward him.
Whispered orders were given, then the men in a body moved toward the
willow-copse on the shore of the lake. Here were two flatboats drawn up
on the beach. These were pushed into the water; the men entered them,
each took an oar, and the unwieldy vessels were propelled along the
shore toward the marshes.
The Marquis de Fervlans had camped with his company of demons on the
shore of Neusiedl Lake. The marquis himself had taken quarters at the
inn in the nearest village, where, assisted by two companions of
questionable respectability but of undoubted valor, he was testing the
quality of the fiery wine of the region, when a peasant cart, drawn by
three horses, drew up before the inn, and Jocrisse, Baroness Katharina's
messenger, alighted.
"Ah, here comes a sensible fellow," exclaimed the marquis. "I wonder
what news he brings."
He was very soon enlightened.
"Hum! '_Io non posso!_'" he repeated, after reading the brief message
Jocrisse delivered to him. "Very well, madame, I think I shall know what
to do if you 'cannot'! Jocrisse, how is the country around Odenburg
garrisoned?"
"A division of militia cavalry occupies every town,"
"That is exasperating! Not that I fear these militiamen might give my
demons too much work; but I am afraid I may alarm them; then they will
scamper in all directions, and frighten the entire Neusiedl region, so
that when I arrive at Fertöszeg I shall find the birds flown and the
nest empty. We must take them by surprise. Have you ever before been in
this part of the country, Jocrisse?"
"I accompanied the county surveyor once as far as Frauenkirchen."
"Is the road practicable for wheels?"
"To Frauenkirchen it is good for wagons; but beyond the city it is in a
wretched condition."
"Very well. You will engage a post-chaise here, and follow us to
Frauenkirchen, where you will wait for further orders. What time did you
leave Fertöszeg?"
"About noon."
"Listen. I suspect that your mistress will try to escape with the maid.
If that is the case, we must bestir ourselves. But women are afraid to
travel by night; and even if they have already left the manor, they
cannot have gone very far. The water in the Danube was unusually high on
the day of the battle at Aspern; that would cause the Raab to rise, and
overflow the bridges crossing it. I shall doubtless overtake the
fugitives at Vitnyed."
"It will be rather risky crossing the Hansag at night," observed
Jocrisse, "and no amount of money would induce one of these natives
about here to act as guide. They are a peculiar folk."
"Yes; but I shall not need a guide. I have an excellent map of the
neighborhood, which I used when I was in garrison here. I used to hunt
all over this region after wild boars and turkeys, and never had any
difficulty finding my way, even at night."
De Fervlans now sent orders to his troop to break camp at once, with as
little stir as possible; and before twilight shadows fell upon the land,
the demons were riding toward the Hansag.
If we assume that Marie left the Nameless Castle in company with the
wife of Satan Laczi at midnight, we can easily see that she would have
but a few hours' advantage of the demons, who broke camp at sunset. If
the latter met with no hindrance on their way, they would overtake the
coach of the fugitives at the crossing of the Raab. As it was after
midnight when Ludwig Vavel learned of the danger which threatened Marie,
he could not, even if he had set out at once, have reached the Hansag
before noon of the following day, by which time De Fervlans and his
demons would have accomplished their errand. Therefore nothing short of
a miracle could save the maid.
CHAPTER II
The miracle happened--a true miracle, like the one of the biblical
legend, when the Red Sea obstructed the way of the persecutor Pharaoh.
Those who may doubt this assertion are referred to the "Monograph on
Lake Neusiedl," in which may be read a description of the phenomenon. In
the last years Lake Neusiedl had been drained, and where it had joined
the lakes of the Hansag, a stout dam had been built. When the waters of
the Hansag chain rose, the muddy undercurrent threw up great mounds of
earth, like enormous excrescences on a diseased body. One of these huge
mounds burst open at the top and emitted a black, slimy mud that
inundated the surrounding morass for a considerable distance.
Already in the neighborhood of St. Andras this slimy ooze was noticeable
when the troop of demons galloped over the plantain-covered flats which
here and there bent under the weight of the horsemen. As they proceeded,
the enormous numbers of frogs became surprising, as if this host of
amphibia had leagued against the invading demons. Then flocks of
water-fowl, with clamorous cries and rustling wings, rose here and
there, startled from their quiet nests by the approaching inundation,
which by this time had completely hidden what was called in that region
the public road. De Fervlans, at a loss what to make of this singular
freak of nature, sent a horseman to the right, and one to the left, to
examine the ground, and learn whence came the sea of slime, and how it
might be avoided. Each of his messengers returned with the information
that the slime was flowing in the direction he had ridden. The source,
then, must be near where they had halted.
"This is bad," said De Fervlans, impatiently. "This eruption of mud will
hinder our progress. We can't run a race with it. We must look up
another route, and this will delay us perhaps for hours. But we can make
that up when on a hard road again."
De Fervlans, who was familiar with the neighborhood, now led his troop
in the direction of the path which ran through the morass toward the
village of Banfalva, hoping thus to gain the excellent highway of
Eszterhaza. Here and there from the swamp rose slight elevations of dry
earth which were overgrown with alders and willows. On one of these
"hills" De Fervlans concluded to halt for a rest, as both men and horses
were weary with the toilsome journey over the wretched roads.
Very soon enough dry wood was collected for a fire. There was no need to
fear that the light might attract attention; the camp was far enough
from human habitation, and neither man nor beast ever spent the night in
the morass of the Hansag. Besides, they could have seen, from the top of
a tree, if any one were approaching. They could see in the bright
moonlight the long poplar avenue which led to Eszterhaza; and even a
gilded steeple might be seen gleaming in the Hungarian Versailles, which
was perhaps a two hours' ride distant.
Suddenly the sharp call, "_Qui vive?_" was heard. It was answered by a
sort of grunt, half-brute, half-human. Again the challenging call broke
the silence, and was followed in a few seconds by a gunshot. Then a wild
laugh was heard at some distance from the hill. De Fervlans hurried
toward the guard.
"What was it?" he asked.
"I don't know whether it was a wild beast or a devil in human form," was
the reply. "It was a strange-looking monster with a large head and
pointed ears."
"I 'll wager it is my runaway fish-boy!" exclaimed the marquis.
"When I challenged the creature he stood up on his feet, and barked, or
grunted, or whatever you might call it; and when I called out the second
time he seemed to strike fire with something; at any rate, he did not
act in the proper manner, so I fired at him. But I did n't hit him."
"I should be sorry if you had," responded the marquis. "I am convinced
that it was my little monster. I taught him to strike fire; and he was
evidently attracted by the light of our camp-fire."
Perhaps it would have been better had the guard shot the amphibious
dwarf. Hardly had De Fervlans returned to his seat when the adjutant
called his attention to a suspicious flashing in the morass a short
distance from the hill on which they were resting. Suddenly, while they
were watching the flashes of light, a column of flame rose toward the
sky, then another, and another--the morass was on fire in a dozen
places.
"Hell, and all devils!" shouted De Fervlans, springing toward his horse.
"The little monster has set the marsh-grass on fire, and it was I who
taught the devil's spawn how to use touchwood! Give chase to the
creature!"
But the order for a chase came too late. In ten minutes the reeds
growing about the hill were burning, and the demons were compelled to
use their spurs in order to speed their horses from the dangerous
conflagration.
They did not stop until they had reached the Valla plain--driven to
their mad gallop by the caricature of the "militiaman"!
"This is a pretty state of affairs!" grumbled De Fervlans. "Mire first,
then flames, bar our way. _Quis quid peccat, in eo punitur_--he who sins
will be punished by his sin! I sinned in teaching that monster to strike
fire. It has made us lose four more hours."
The four hours were of some consequence to the fugitive maid and Ludwig
Vavel.
Dawn broke before the demons found the road between the groups of hills,
and when they reached it, they still had before them that half of the
Hansag which is formed by a series of small lakes.
De Fervlans now became anxious to shorten their route. A lakelet of
fifty or sixty paces in width is not an impassable hindrance for a
horseman. Therefore it was not necessary to ride perhaps a thousand
paces in making a detour of the lakelets--the demons must ride through
them. How often had he, when following a deer, swam with his horse
through just such a body of water. Only then it was autumn, and now it
was spring.
The flora of this marsh country has many species which hide underneath
the water, and in the springtime send their long stems and tendrils
toward the surface. De Fervlans was yet to learn that even plants may
become foes. Those of his demons who were the first to plunge into the
water suddenly began to call for help. Neither man nor beast can swim
through a network of growing plants; at every movement they become
entangled among the clinging tendrils and swaying stems, and sink to the
bottom unless promptly rescued. The men on shore were obliged to grasp
the tails of the struggling horses and draw them back to land. De
Fervlans, who could not be convinced that it was impossible to swim
across the narrow stretch of water, came very near losing his life among
the aquatic growths. There was now no likelihood of their reaching the
highway before sunrise.
There was still another hindrance. The fire in the morass had alarmed
the entire neighborhood, and the inhabitants were out, to a man,
fighting the flames which threatened their meadows. Therefore De
Fervlans, who wished to avoid attracting attention to his troop, was
obliged to make his way through thickets and over rough byways, which
was very tedious work.
It was noon when they arrived at the bridge which crossed the Raab half
a mile from Pomogy. At the farther end of this bridge was the
custom-house, which was also a public inn.
"We must rest there," said De Fervlans, "or our worn-out beasts will
drop under us."
Just as the troop rode on to the bridge, two men ran swiftly from the
custom-house toward the swampy lowland. Before they entered the marsh
they stopped, and bound long wooden stilts to their feet; and, thus
equipped, stepped without difficulty from one earth-clod to another. No
horseman could have followed them across the treacherous ground. De
Fervlans's adjutant became uneasy when he saw these two men, whose
actions seemed suspicious to him; but the marquis assured him that they
were only shepherds whose herds pastured in the marshes.
The troop dismounted at the inn, and demanded of the host whatever he
had of victuals and drinks. He could offer them nothing better than sour
cider, mead, and wild ducks' eggs. But when a demon is hungry and
thirsty, even these will satisfy him. De Fervlans, who had not for one
instant doubted that his expedition would be successful, spread out his
map and planned their further march. General Guillaume would have
received one of his letters at least,--he had sent two, with two
different couriers in different directions,--and would now be waiting at
Friedberg for the arrival of the demons and their distinguished captive.
Therefore the most direct route to that point must be selected. It was
not likely that any militia troops would be idling about that cart of
the country; and if there were, the demons could very easily manage
them.
CHAPTER III
One of the two men who crossed the morass on stilts was Master Matyas,
whose distance marches during this campaign were something phenomenal.
Matyas found Count Vavel with his troop already at Eszterhaza, and
apprized him at once of De Fervlans's arrival at the bridge-inn. The
Volons had not yet rested, but they had traveled over passable roads,
and were not so exhausted. Their leader at once gave orders to mount.
When Ludwig saw that Katharina also prepared to accompany the troop, he
hurried to her side.
"Don't come any farther, Katharina," he begged. "Remain here, where you
will be perfectly safe. Something might happen to you when we meet the
enemy."
Katharina's smiling reply was:
"No, my dear friend. I have paid a very high entrance-fee to see this
tragedy, for that you will kill Barthelmy Fervlans I am as certain as
that there is a just God in heaven!"
"But _your_ presence will make me fear at a moment when I must not feel
afraid--afraid for your safety."
"Oh, don't trouble about yourself. I know you better. When you come in
sight of the enemy you will forget all about _me_. As for me, I am going
with you."
The troop now set out on the march through the poplar avenue. When they
drew near to Pomogy, Vavel sent a squad in advance to act as
skirmishers, while he, with the rest of his men, took possession of a
solitary elevation near the road, which was the work of human hands. It
was composed of the refuse from a soda-factory, and encircled on three
sides a low building. Vavel concealed his horsemen behind this
artificial hillock, then, accompanied by Katharina, he ascended to the
top to take a view of the surrounding country.
He could see through his field-glass the bridge across the Raab and the
inn at the farther end. The entire region was nothing but morass. A
trench ran from the highway toward Lake Neusiedl; it could be traced by
the dense growth of broom along its edges.
"You are my adjutant," jestingly remarked Vavel to Katharina. "I am
going down now; for if I should be seen here it will be known what is
behind me. You are a farmer's wife, and will not arouse suspicion; stop
here, therefore, and take observations with my glass, and keep me
informed of what happens."
The Marquis de Fervlans was enjoying a tankard of foaming mead when his
adjutant came hastily into the room with the announcement that some
troopers were approaching the bridge on the farther side of the river.
De Fervlans hurried from the inn and gave orders to mount. As yet only
the crimson hats of the troopers could be seen above the tall reeds on
the farther shore.
"Those are Vavel's Volons," said De Fervlans, taking a look through his
glass. "I recognize the uniform from Jocrisse's description. Madame
Themire has turned traitor, and sent the count to deal with me instead
of coming herself. Very good! We will show the gentleman that war and
star-gazing are different occupations. He was a soldier once; but I
don't think he paid much attention to military tactics, else he would
not have neglected to occupy yon hill, on which I see a peasant woman
with a red kerchief over her head. That is an old soda-factory--I know
the place well. I should n't wonder if Vavel had concealed some men
there after all! That small body coming this way is evidently bent on a
skirmishing errand. Well, our tactics will be to lure him from his
concealment."
He held a consultation with his subordinates; after which he turned
toward the waiting demons, and called:
"Signor Trentatrante!"
The man came forward--a true type of the gladiator of the Vatican.
"Dismount," ordered the marquis. "Take thirty men, and proceed on foot
to the farther side of yon thicket, where you will lie in ambush until I
have begun an assault on the soda-factory over yonder. The men in hiding
there will show up when we approach; I shall then pretend to retreat,
and lure them toward the thicket. You will know what to do then--fall
upon them in the rear. When you have arrived at the thicket let me know.
Set fire to that tallest clump of reeds near the willow-shrubs."
"All right!" returned the signor. Then he selected thirty of his
companions, who also dismounted, and they started at once to obey the
orders of their leader.
The "peasant woman with a red kerchief over her head," who was standing
on the soda-factory hill, called in a low, clear tone to Ludwig:
"De Fervlans is coming with his troop."
"Then we must prepare a greeting for him," responded Vavel. He ordered
his men into their saddles, then sallied forth with them to meet the
enemy.
The two bodies of soldiers moving toward each other were very nearly
alike in numbers. Neither seemed to be in a particular hurry to begin an
assault. Suddenly a column of smoke rose from the thicket near the
bridge--it was the signal De Fervlans was waiting for. He gave orders to
halt. The next instant there was a rattling salute from the demons'
carbines. The "peasant woman" on the hill covered her face with both
hands and shivered. The messengers of death flew about the head of her
lover, but left him unharmed.
Vavel now moved nearer to the attacking foe, and himself made straight
for the leader. One of De Fervlans's lieutenants, however, a thick-set,
sun-browned Sicilian, met the count's assault. There was a little
sword-play, then Vavel struck his adversary's blade from his hand with a
force that sent it whizzing through the air, and with his left hand
thrust the Sicilian, who was reaching for his pistols, from the saddle.
Nor had Vavel's companions been idle the while. The first assault was a
success for the count's troop. De Fervlans now ordered a retreat. The
death-heads looked upon this as a victory, and eagerly pursued the
retreating foe. But the woman on the hill had already perceived that the
retreat was but a feint. She saw the demons crouching among the reeds in
the thicket, and guessed their intention.
"Vavel!" she shouted at the top of her voice, "Vavel, take care! Look to
your rear!"
She imagined that her lover would hear her amid the tumult of the fight.
But Vavel had ears and eyes only for what was in front of him. Nearer
and nearer he approached to the trap De Fervlans had laid for him. He
was in it! The trench was behind him now, and the demons in ambush were
preparing to spring upon their prey.
Katharina could look no longer. She ran down the hill, sprang on her
mule, and galloped after her lover.
De Fervlans's retreat was conducted in proper order, step by step, from
earth-clod to earth-clod.
Suddenly Katharina discovered that a mule was an obstinate beast. The
one she was riding stopped abruptly, and would not advance another step.
In vain she urged and coaxed. At last she sprang from the saddle, and on
foot made her way toward the scene of the fray.
At this moment the demons creeping steathily along the trench sprang
from their concealment, their bayonets ready for action. They were on
the point of firing a volley into the black backs of the Volons, when a
rattling fire in their own rear brought down half of them dead and
wounded. The uninjured on turning found themselves confronted by Satan
Laczi and his comrades, who, black and slimy from their passage through
the morass, sprang like tigers upon the foe.
"Strike for their heads!" commanded Satan Laczi, as, with sabers drawn,
the ex-robbers rushed upon the bewildered demons, who had at last met
their match.
When De Fervlans heard the firing in the neighborhood of the trench, he
believed it to come from the muskets of his own men, and quickly sounded
an attack. The demons, who had been feigning to retreat, now turned and
met their pursuers, and a hand-to-hand conflict began.
Vavel also had heard the firing behind him, and believed himself
surrounded by the enemy. He beckoned to his trumpeter, to whom he wished
to give orders to sound a retreat, but the man's horse unfortunately
stumbled, and threw his rider to the earth. Three demons, at once sprang
to capture the fallen trumpeter; but Vavel, who knew how necessary the
man was to him, hastened to his assistance.
De Fervlans in amazement watched this unequal encounter. A masterly
conflict arouses admiration even in an enemy; and Vavel certainly
proved himself a master in the art of fighting.
He fought in cold blood; he was not in the least excited. He made no
unnecessary thrusts, but wounded his three adversaries in the hand, the
elbow, the forearm, whereby he rendered them incapable of further
combat. De Fervlans saw how his skilled demons gave way before Vavel's
masterly thrusts, while the Volons drew their unfortunate trumpeter from
beneath his horse, and assisted him to mount again, after they had also
helped the horse to his feet.
But the trumpet was now useless; it was filled with mud. Consequently a
signal for retreat could not be sounded.
A dense mass of wild-hop vines inclosed the eastern side of the scene of
action. De Fervlans glanced impatiently toward this green wall. The
armed men who should penetrate it would decide the victory.
Even as the thought flashed through his brain, the tangle of vines began
to shake violently; but the first man to appear therefrom was not Signor
Trentatrante, as De Fervlans had expected, but Satan Laczi, with his
ferocious followers.
The attack from this point was so unexpected that De Fervlans for a
moment seemed stupefied; then quickly recovering himself, he dashed into
the thick of the fight, Vavel following his example. By this time the
trumpet had been cleansed, but no orders were received for a retreat
signal; instead, the sound it shrilled above the fearful turmoil was:
"Forward! forward!"
With the blood pouring from a gaping wound in his head, Satan Laczi,
swinging a saber he had captured from a foe, now rushed to meet De
Fervlans, who at once recognized the former robber.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, preparing to meet the furious onslaught, "you have
not yet found your way to the gallows!"
"No; here in Hungary only traitors are hanged," retorted Satan Laczi, in
a loud voice, as, with a mighty leap that would have done credit to a
horse, he sprang toward the marquis, caught the reins from his hands,
and with true robber-wit called: "Surrender, brother-rascal!"
De Fervlans raised himself in his stirrups and brought his saber
savagely down on the robber's head. This was the second serious cut
Satan Laczi had received that day, and was evidently enough to calm his
enthusiasm. He staggered to one side, made several vain attempts to
straighten himself, then fell suddenly to the earth. His own blade,
however, remained in the breast of De Fervlans's horse, where he had
thrust it to the hilt.
The marquis hardly had time to leap from the saddle before the poor
beast fell under him.
All seemed lost now. His men were confused and thrown into disorder. In
desperation he tore his pistols from the saddle of his fallen horse.
Only a single shrub separated him from his enemy,--twenty paces,--and De
Fervlans was a celebrated shot.
Count Vavel saw what was coming, and he too drew his pistol.
"Good night, Chevalier Vavel!" in a mocking tone called De Fervlans, as
his finger pressed the trigger. There was a sharp report, the ball
whistled through the air--but Vavel did not fall.
"Accept _my_ greeting, marquis!" responded Vavel, He raised his pistol,
and fired without taking aim. De Fervlans fell backward to the ground.
CHAPTER IV
When De Fervlans's men saw that their leader had fallen they retreated
toward the bridge, where a portion of the troop alighted and held at bay
their pursuers, while the rest tore up and flung into the stream the
planks of the bridge. Then the men who had prevented the Volons from
following crossed on foot the narrow lengthwise beam to the opposite
shore--a feat impossible for a man on horseback.
The spot where the fiercest fighting had occurred was already cleared
when Katharina arrived upon it. She shuddered with horror, and staggered
like one who walks in his sleep as she moved about the desert place.
Suddenly she came upon a large wild-rose bush covered with bloom. Close
by it lay a horse with the hilt of a sword protruding from his breast.
Near the dead animal lay a metal helmet ornamented with the gilded
imperial eagle, and a little farther on lay a mud-stained form in a
uniform of coarse gray cloth, with a gaping wound in his head; his left
hand clutched the rushes among which he had fallen. As Katharina, in her
peasant gown, moved timidly across the open space, she heard a voice say
faintly in Hungarian:
"For God's sake, good woman, give me a drink of water."
Without stopping to question whether he was friend or foe, Katharina
caught up the metal helmet to fetch the water.
There was water everywhere about her, but it was the filthy water of
the morass.
Katharina remembered having heard that the shepherds of the Hansag, when
they were thirsty, cut a reed and thrust it deep into the swampy earth,
when clear, drinkable water would rise from the lower soil. She
therefore thrust a long cane into the moist earth, then put her lips to
it, and sucked up the water. On removing her lips a clear stream shot
upward from the cane. She held the helmet under this improvised fountain
until it was full, then returned with it to the rose-bush.
The wounded man was lying on his back, his bloodstained face upturned
toward the sky. Katharina knelt by his side, and held the helmet to his
lips.
"Themire!" gasped the wounded man.
At sound of the name a sudden fury seemed to seize the woman.
"De Fervlans!" she cried, in a hoarse voice. "_You!_ you, the accursed
destroyer of my daughter! May God refuse to forgive you for making of me
the wretched creature I am!"
As she spoke she raised the helmet, of water above her head, as if she
would dash it upon the dying man's face; but he turned his head away
from her furious gaze, and did not stir again.
Slowly Katharina lowered the helmet, and struggled with her excited
feelings. She looked about her, and saw another motionless form lying
across a clump of turf. Perhaps he was still alive. Perhaps she might
help him.
She stepped quickly to his side with the helmet of water and washed the
blood and mud-stains from his face. Ah, what a hideous face it was! All
the same, she carefully washed it, then bathed the gaping wounds in his
head. They were horribly deep, and she was almost overcome by the
fearful sight. But she looked upward for a moment, and it seemed to her
as if she recognized amid the fleecy clouds a snow-white form, and heard
an encouraging voice say:
"That is right, mother. I, too, performed such work."
Then she took her handkerchief and bound it around the wounded man's
head. While so doing her eyes fell on the steel ring on his thumb.
"Satan Laczi!" she exclaimed.
She put her arms around him, and lifted him to a more comfortable
position, wondering the while how he came to be there. Had he failed to
find Marie, whom he was to accompany to Raab? Had Cambray, perhaps,
prevented her from leaving the castle?
She bent over the wounded man and said:
"Satan Laczi, awake! Look up--come back to life!"
And Satan Laczi was such an obedient fellow, he opened his eyes and saw
the lady kneeling by his side.
Then he opened his lips, and said in a very weak voice:
"I should like a drink of water."
Katharina made haste to fill the helmet again at her fountain.
"Thank you, sister."
"Look at me, Laczi bácsi;" commanded Katharina, in a cheerful tone.
"Don't you know me? I am the woman who gave shelter to your wife and
child. I am little Laczko's foster-mother."
The wounded man smiled faintly, and murmured: "Yes, yes--Laczko--Laczko
is a fine lad! He came near--shooting me because--because of the maid."
"Tell me what you know about the maid," eagerly questioned Katharina.
"Where is she?"
The wounded man opened his eyes, and seemed to be trying to recall
something. After a pause, he said slowly, and with evident difficulty:
"You need n't--trouble about the--pretty maid. Laczko is a brave
lad--and my wife--my wife is--an honest woman."
"Yes, yes, I know," returned Katharina. "A good lad, and an honest
woman. But tell me, in heaven's name, where is the maid?"
"The maid--Sophie Botta went with--my wife to Raab--they are there
now--and Laczko too."
How gently the lady bathed the wounded man's face and hands! How
carefully she renewed the bandages on the horrible wounds!
Ludwig Vavel, who hart approached noiselessly, stood and watched her
perform the labor of love. He saw, heard, and admired. Then he came
close to the kneeling woman, and clasped his arms around her.
"My Katharina! Oh, what a woman art thou!"
PART X
CONCLUSION
CHAPTER I
When Count Vavel returned from his skirmish with De Fervlans's demons,
he sent his betrothed at once to Raab, with instructions not to separate
herself again from Marie.
He had not been able to accompany Katharina on her journey, as he had
received marching orders immediately on his return to camp. On parting
with his betrothed, however, he had promised to pay a visit to her and
Marie at an early day, and to write to both of them daily.
The first part of his promise he had not been able to fulfil; his time
was too fully occupied with the duties of the field. But he sent
frequent messages to his loved ones; while every day, no matter where he
might be, he would be sure to receive his letter from Raab--one sheet
covered to the edges with Katharina's writing, and the other with
Marie's.
Their letters were always cheerful, and filled with hope and confidence
for the future. Ludwig fancied he could see the scene as Katharina
described it, when Marie had opened the steel casket.
He knew just how delighted the young girl had been when she beheld
nothing but ashes instead of the little garments, the documents, the
portraits, the bank-notes; and he could hear her joyous laugh on finding
herself relieved of the burden of her greatness. But what he could not
hear was Katharina reciting his brave exploits during the fierce
struggle on the Hansag, a recital Marie insisted on hearing every day.
Then the two, Marie and Katharina, would go every morning to church, to
pray for Ludwig, to ask God to protect him, and bring him safely back to
them. This was their daily pleasure and consolation.
Then came the bloody days of Karako, Papa, Raab, and Acs. The militia
troops took active part in all these battles, and proved themselves
valiant warriors.
Vavel with his Volons had been assigned to Mesko's brigade, and had
shared its adventurous march from Abda, around Lake Balaton to Veszprim.
Here he found his spy and scout, Master Matyas, awaiting him.
For weeks he had not had a word from his loved ones. When he had sent
them to Raab he believed he had selected a secure haven for them, but
the course which events had taken proved that he had made a mistake in
his calculations. Katharina and Marie were now surrounded on all sides
by the enemy.
It was while he was oppressed with these gloomy thoughts that his spy
and scout suddenly appeared before him. Noah in his ark had not looked
more longingly for the dove than had he for his brave Matyas.
"Well, Master Matyas, what news?"
"All sorts, Herr Count."
"Good or bad?"
"Well, mixed. Both good and bad. I will leave the good till the last. To
begin: Poor Satan Laczi was buried yesterday--may God have mercy on his
sinful soul! They fired three salvos over his grave, and the primate
himself said the prayers for his soul. If Satan Laczi himself could have
seen it all, he could hardly have believed that so much honor would be
shown to his dead body. Poor Laczi! His last words were a greeting to
his kind patron."
"His life closed well!" observed the count. "He got what he longed
for--a soldier's death. But tell me what you know about Raab."
"I know all about it. I come from there."
"Ah, did you see them? Has not the enemy besieged the city?"
"Yes; the city as well as the fortress is in the hands of the enemy, and
the baroness and the princess are both in it."
"Who told you to call her a princess?" demanded Count Vavel, his face
darkening.
"I will come to that all in good time," composedly replied Matyas, who
was not to be hurried. "Colonel Pechy," he went on, "bravely defended
the fortress for ten days against the Frenchmen; but he had to yield at
last--"
"Where are Katharina and Marie?" impatiently interrupted Vavel. "What
became of them when the city capitulated?"
"All in good time, Herr Count, all in good time! I can tell you all
about them, for I am just come from them."
"Were they in any danger?"
"Danger? No, indeed! When the city surrendered they were concealed in a
house where they passed as the nieces of the Herr Vice-palatine
Görömbölyi."
"Is the vice-palatine with them now?"
"Certainly. He has surrendered, too."
"Excellent man! Who commands the Frenchmen at Raab?"
"General Guillaume--"
"General Guillaume?" excitedly interrupted Vavel.
"Yes, certainly; Guillaume--that is his name. And he is a very polite
gentleman. He does not ill-treat the citizens; on the contrary, the very
next day after he entered the city he gave a ball in the large hotel,
and invited all the distinguished citizens with their wives and
daughters. The Herr Count's dear ones also received an invitation."
"As the nieces of the vice-palatine, of course?"
"Not exactly! I saw the invitation-card, and it was to 'Madame la
Comtesse de Alba, avec la Princesse Marie.'"
"Princess Marie?" echoed Vavel.
"As I tell you; and that is how I come to know she is a princess."
Vavel's brain seemed paralyzed. He could not even think.
"The vice-palatine," nonchalantly continued Matyas, "protested that a
mistake had been made; but the French general replied that he knew very
well who the ladies were, and that he had received instructions how to
treat them. From that day, two French grenadiers began to guard the
baroness's door, day and night, just exactly as if they were standing
guard over a potentate."
Vavel paced the floor, mute with rage and fear.
"Why did I desert them!" he exclaimed at last, in desperation. "Why did
I not do as Marie wished--flee with her and Katharina into the wide
world--we three alone!"
"Well, you see you did n't, and this is the way matters stand now,"
responded Master Matyas. "The general's adjutant visits the house twice
every day to inquire after the ladies; then he reports to his superior."
"If only Cambray had not died!" ejaculated the count.
"Yes, but I helped to bury him, too," added Matyas, shaking his head.
"Yes, so I was told. How did you manage to get the body from behind the
metal screen?"
"Oh, that was easy enough. You know the spring is connected with the
bell in your study; when the screen unrolled, the bell rang. It was only
necessary to reverse the operation: by pulling the bell-wire in the
Herr Count's study the screen was rolled up."
"A very simple arrangement, indeed," observed Count Vavel, smiling in
spite of his gloom. "Ah, Master Matyas, if only you were clever enough
to open for me the locks which now imprison my dear ones! That would be
a masterpiece, indeed!"
"I can do that easily enough," was the confident rejoinder.
"You can? How?"
"Did n't I say I would leave the good news until the last?"
"Yes, yes. Tell me what you have in view."
"I must whisper the secret in your ear; I have often overheard important
secrets listening at the keyhole or while hiding under a bed, and what I
have done another may be doing."
Vavel bent his head so that Master Matyas might whisper the important
information in his ear.
The words were few, but they served to restore Vavel to a cheerful mood.
He laughed heartily, slapped Master Matyas on the shoulder, and
exclaimed:
"You are truly a wonderful fellow!" Then he took a roll of bank-notes
from his pocket, and pressed it into Matyas's hand. "Here--take these,
and buy what is necessary. We will make the attempt at once."
Master Matyas thrust the money into his own pocket, and darted from the
room as if he had stolen it. Ludwig hastened to his general, to beg for
leave of absence.
CHAPTER II
"Everything is ready," said Master Matyas to Vavel, pointing toward
three covered luggage-wagons, which the Volons had captured from the
Frenchmen at Klein-Zell.
The "Death-head troop," as Vavel's Volons were designated, marched in
the rear of the brigade; consequently they could drop out from it any
time without attracting special notice.
To-day the brigade marched toward Palota, and the Volons turned into the
road which led to Zircz. They seemed, however, to have been swallowed up
by the Bakonye forest, for nothing was seen again of them after they
entered it. The inhabitants of Ratota still repeat tales of the handsome
troopers--every man of them a true Magyar!--who rode through their
village to the sound of the trumpet, nodding to the pretty girls, and
paying gold coin for their refreshment at the inn. But the dwellers in
Zircz complained that, instead of Magyar troopers, a squad of hostile
cavalry passed through their village--Frenchmen in blue mantles, with
cocks' feathers in their helmets, with a commandant who had given all
sorts of orders that no one could understand. Luckily, the prior of the
Premonstrants could speak French, and he acted as interpreter for the
French commandant. And everybody felt relieved when he marched farther
with his troop.
These were the transformed Volons. They had exchanged their crimson
shakos in the dense forest for the French helmets, and wrapped
themselves in the blue mantles taken from the luggage-wagons. No one
would have doubted that they were French _chasseurs_--even the trumpeter
sounded the calls according to the regulations in the armies of France.
Master Matyas hurried on in advance of the troop to learn if the way was
clear. It would have been equally unpleasant to have met either
Hungarian or French soldiery. They encountered neither, however; and at
daybreak on the second day arrived at the village of Börcs, on the
Rabcza, where is an interesting monument of times long past--a redoubt
of considerable extent, in the center of which stands the village
church.
Vavel's troop camped within this redoubt, where they could escape
attracting attention. The country about them, for a long distance, was
occupied by French troops.
The highway which led to Raab might be seen from the steeple of the
church, and here Vavel took up his station with a field-glass.
He had not been long in his tower of observation when he saw a heavy
cloud of dust moving along the highway, and very soon was able to
distinguish a body of horsemen. It was a company of cuirassiers, whose
polished breastplates glittered in the sunlight like stars. The company
was divided into two squads: one rode in front of a four-horse
traveling-coach, the other in the rear of it.
There were two ladies in the coach. The elder of the two shielded her
face from the dust with a heavy veil; the younger lady wore no veil over
her pale face, but held in front of it a fan, from behind which she took
an occasional look at the variegated plain, where the ripening grain,
blended with the green of the meadows, formed a rich, carpet on either
side of the road.
The young officer riding beside the coach sought to entertain the elder
lady with observations on the country through which they were passing,
and from time to time exchanged tender glances with the younger. These
ladies were the wife and daughter of General Guillaume. They were on
their way to Raab, where they expected an addition to their party in the
person of _la Princesse Marie_, whom they were going to accompany to
Paris. The troop of cuirassiers was their escort.
"There come some _chasseurs_ on a foraging expedition," observed the
young officer, pointing toward a body of horsemen that was approaching
across the green plain.
And, judging from the appearance of the riders, he was right; for the
Volons, in order to deceive the Frenchmen, were bringing with them a
couple of loaded hay-wagons, which they were dragging through the middle
of the highway.
While yet a considerable distance away from the approaching _chasseurs_,
the postilions began to blow their horns for a clear way.
The hay-wagons were turned, in obedience to the signal, but, in turning,
the second one ran into the one in advance with such force that the pole
was broken clean off.
In front of the barricade thus formed Vavel halted his men, and
commanded them to throw off their French cloaks and helmets. In a second
the order was obeyed; the crimson shakos with their grim death-heads
were donned, and the troop dashed forward upon the escort accompanying
the coach.
The astonished cuirassiers, who were wholly unprepared for the assault,
were soon overpowered by the Volons, who also outnumbered them.
The youthful leader had at once placed himself in front of the coach,
ready for combat with the leader of the attacking foe, and Vavel was
obliged to exercise all his skill to disarm without injuring him.
At the moment when the young French champion's sword flew from his hand,
the younger lady, forgetting all ceremony, cried in terror:
"_Oh mon Dieu, ne tuez pas Arthur!_"
Ludwig Vavel turned toward her, bowed courteously, and said in Talma's
most exquisite French:
"Do not be alarmed, ladies. You are perfectly safe. We are Hungarian
gentlemen!"
"But what do you want of us?" demanded the elder lady, haughtily
surveying the count. "What business have we with you? We do not belong
to the combatants."
"I will tell this brave young chevalier what I want," replied Vavel,
turning toward the youthful leader. "First, let me restore your sword,
monsieur. You handle it admirably, only you need to grasp it more
firmly. Then, let me beg of you to mount your horse--a beautiful animal!
And third, I beg you to ride as quickly as possible to Raab, and give
General Guillaume this message: 'I, Count Vavel de Versay, have this day
taken captive the wife and daughter of General Guillaume. The general
holds as prisoners my betrothed wife, Countess Themire Dealba, and my
adopted daughter, Sophie Botta, or, if he prefers, _la Princess Marie_.
I demand my loved ones in exchange for Madame and Mademoiselle
Guillaume.' I have no further demands, monsieur, and the sooner you
return the better. I shall await you in yonder redoubt, where you see
the church-steeple. Adieu."
The younger lady, with hands clasped pleadingly, mutely besought the
youthful officer to assent. As if he would not do everything in his
power to urge the general to consent to the exchange! The young
Frenchman galloped down the road toward Raab. Count Vavel took his place
beside the coach, and ordered the postilions to drive to Börcs. At
first, the general's wife heaped reproaches on her captor.
"This is a violation of national courtesies," she exclaimed irately. "It
is brigandage, to waylay and take as prisoners two distinguished women."
"Madame's husband has also detained as prisoners two distinguished
women," in a respectful tone responded Vavel.
"But my daughter is so nervous."
"There is not a more timid creature in the world than my poor little
Marie."
"At all events, monsieur, you are a Frenchman, and know what is due to
ladies of our station."
"In that respect, madame, I shall follow General Guillaume's example."
They were now among the gardens of Börcs, where the cherry-trees,
heavily laden with fruit, rose above the tall hedges; and very soon they
turned into a beautiful street shaded by walnut-trees, which led to the
redoubt. The parsonage was the only house of importance in the village.
The pastor was standing at his door when Vavel ordered the coach to
stop. He assisted the ladies to alight, and begged the pastor to grant
them the hospitality of his roof. The request was not refused, and the
ladies were made as comfortable as possible.
"Do you care to see the sights of the village, madame?" asked Vavel of
the mother, after they had partaken of the lunch prepared by the
pastor's housekeeper. The young lady, who was exhausted by the journey,
had gone to her room. "There is a very old church here which is
interesting."
"Are there any fine pictures in it?" inquired madame.
"There is one,--a very touching scene,--'The Samaritan.'"
"Ancient or modern?" queried the lady.
"The subject is old--it dates back to the first years of Christianity,
madame. The execution is modern."
"Is it the work of a celebrated artist?"
"No; it is the work of our clerical host."
The lady shook her head; she was uncertain whether Count Vavel was
making sport of her or of the pastor.
But she understood him when she entered the church. The house
consecrated to the service of God had become a hospital, and was crowded
with wounded French soldiers. The women of the village, as volunteer
nurses, were taking care of them, and performed the task as faithfully
as if the invalids were their own sons and brothers. The pastor himself
supplied the necessary medicines from his own cupboard; for no army
surgeon came here at a time when twenty thousand wounded Frenchmen lay
at Aspern, and twenty-two thousand at Wagram.
"Is it not an affecting tableau, madame?" said Count Vavel. "It would be
a suitable altar-piece for Notre Dame--and the name of its creator
deserves perpetuation!"
CHAPTER III
Monsieur le Capitaine Descourcelles rode an excellent horse, was a
capital rider, and was plainly very much in love. These three
circumstances combined brought back the gallant soldier from Raab by
five o'clock in the afternoon.
The captain of the cuirassiers was not a little surprised to find the
general's wife playing cards with the hostile leader.
"General Guillaume agrees to everything," he announced immediately, on
entering the room. "He will release the ladies he has been holding as
prisoners."
Vavel hastened to shake hands with the bearer of these glad tidings, who
was, however, more eager to kiss the hand of Vavel's partner, and to
inquire:
"I hope I find the ladies perfectly comfortable?"
"Very comfortable indeed," replied madame. "_Messieurs les Cannibales_
are very polite, and _leur Catzique_ plays an excellent hand at piquet."
"And where is mademoiselle? I trust she is not suffering from the
fatigue of the journey?"
"Oh, no; she is very well. She is making her toilet, and will soon join
us. I hope we shall leave here very soon."
Madame now rose, and left the two soldiers alone in the room.
"Here," observed the French captain, handing Vavel a paper, "is the
_sauf conduit_."
The pass contained the information that "Vavel de Versay, expatriated
French nobleman and magnate of Hungary, together with the Countess
Themire Dealba (alias Baroness Katharina Landsknechtsschild) and Sophie
Botta (pretended Princess Marie Charlotte Capet), with attendants, were
to be allowed to travel unmolested by any French troops they might
chance to meet."
Ludwig Vavel looked at this document a long time.
"Do you doubt the assurance of a French officer, monsieur?" asked the
captain.
"No; I was just unable to understand why a word had been used here. I
dare say it is a mistake. But no matter. I am greatly obliged to you."
"Pray don't speak of it," responded the Frenchman, cordially shaking the
hand Vavel extended toward him. "I must not forget to tell you that a
four weeks' armistice was agreed upon to-day."
The ladies now entered the room, prepared to continue their journey. The
face of the younger one wore a more cheerful expression than on her
arrival at the parsonage. Madame thanked Vavel for his courtesy, then,
with her daughter, entered the carriage and drove away.
Madame Guillaume was forgetful: she neglected to take leave of her host
the pastor, and of her wounded countrymen in the church.
Vavel communicated the news of the armistice to his adjutant, and
commanded him to return at once with the Volons to Fertöszeg, there to
quarter themselves in the Nameless Castle, and await further orders.
Then he mounted his horse, and, accompanied by Master Matyas, galloped
out of the village.
Twilight had deepened into night when the two men arrived at Raab. The
clocks were striking eight, and the French trumpets were sounding the
retreat at every gate. Vavel, therefore, would not be allowed to enter
the city until the next morning; but Master Matyas, who did not stop to
inquire which was the proper way when he wanted to go anywhere, knew of
a little garden that belonged to a certain tanner, and very soon found
an entrance along a rather circuitous route among the tan-vats.
Vavel had already seen battered walls, and dwellings ruined by bombs and
flames, yet the thought that he should find his loved ones amid these
smoke-blackened ruins oppressed his heart.
The two men attracted no attention. In the last days there had been many
strangers in the city, deputations from the militia camps, to assist in
establishing the line of demarcation. Master Matyas, without difficulty,
led the way among the ruins to the neat little abode where the worthy
vice-palatine had established his protégés. When they came within sight
of the house Matyas observed:
"The two Frenchmen with their bearskin caps are not on guard to-day. The
vice-palatine's servant seems to be doing sentry-duty."
Vavel applied his spurs and cantered briskly toward the house, but
moderated his speed when he came nearer. He remembered how easily Marie
was frightened by the clatter of horse-hoofs.
At the corner of the street he alighted, and cautioning Matyas to
exercise slowly the fatigued horses, proceeded on foot to the house.
The servant on guard at the door saluted in military fashion with drawn
sword. Ludwig hurried into the house. In the hall he encountered the
little Laczko, who, at sight of the visitor, dropped the boot and brush
he held in his hands, and disappeared through a door at the end of the
hall. Vavel followed him, and found himself in the kitchen, where the
widow of Satan Laczi also dropped to the floor the cooking-utensil she
had in her hand.
The count did not stop to question her, but went on into the adjoining
room, whence proceeded the sound of voices, and here he found three
acquaintances--the vice-palatine, Dr. Tromfszky, and the surveyor, Herr
Doboka. The three started in alarm when they beheld Vavel. The doctor
even made as if he would rush from the room--as when in the Nameless
Castle the furious invalid had seized his groom by the throat.
The expressions on the three startled countenances brought a sudden fear
to Ludwig's heart.
"Is any one ill here?" he asked.
The vice-palatine and the doctor looked at each other, but did not
speak; the surveyor began to stammer:
"I say--I say that--"
"Is Marie ill?" interrupted Vavel, excitedly.
Herr Bernat silently nodded assent, and pointed toward the door leading
into the next room.
Vavel did not stop to inquire further, but strode into the adjoining
chamber.
What a familiar little room it was, another fairy-like retreat like that
of the Nameless Castle! Here were Marie's toys, her furniture; the four
cats were purring in the window-seat, and the two pugs lay dozing on the
sofa.
A canopy-bed stood in the alcove, and among the pillows lay Marie.
Katharina was sitting by the bedside.
"Oh, God!" cried Vavel, in a tone so full of anguish that every one who
heard it, man, woman, and child, burst into tears. The invalid among the
pillows alone laughed--laughed aloud for joy.
And had she not cause to rejoice? Ludwig--_her_ Ludwig--did not hasten
first to embrace and kiss his betrothed wife. No, _she_, his little
Marie, was the first!
He flung himself on his knees by the bed and covered the pale face with
kisses and tears.
"Oh, my dearest! My adored saint! My idol!" he sobbed, while Marie's
face glowed with the purest earthly happiness.
She pressed Ludwig's head to her breast and whispered soothingly:
"Don't grieve, Ludwig; I am not going to die. I have not got that horrid
influenza poor papa Cambray brought with him from Paris. I took a little
cold the night we ran away from the bombs; but I shall soon be well
again, now that you are come. I want to live, Ludwig, and you, who
rescued me from death once before, will know how to do it again."
Katharina laid her hand tenderly on the maid's head, and said gently:
"Don't talk any more now, dearest; you know you must not excite
yourself."
Marie grasped the white hand and drew it down to Ludwig's lips.
"Kiss it, Liadwig; kiss this dear, good hand. Oh, she has been a good
little mother to me! She has wept so much because of me. If only you
knew what she had planned to do when they were going to tear me away
from her! But that danger is past, and now that you are come everything
will be well. We have been reading about you, Ludwig. What a hero you
are--our knight, St. George! I have n't been really ill, you know,
Ludwig; it was only anxiety about you. I shall soon be well again.
Please tell the doctor I don't need any more medicine. I want to get
up--I feel strong already. I want to put on my gown; then I will take
your arm and Katharina's, and we three will promenade to the window. I
want to see the evening star. Please send Frau Satan to me; she can lift
me more easily than Katharina, for I am very heavy. Ludwig, take
Katharina into the next room while I am dressing. I know you have much
to say to each other."
Frau Satan now entered in answer to the summons. The doctor had ordered
that the invalid's wishes must be obeyed.
Ludwig and Katharina went into the next room. They looked long into each
other's eyes, and in the gaze lay many of the thoughts which, if they
cannot be told to the one person on earth, are never heard by any one
else. Suddenly Katharina, without word of warning, dropped on her knees
at her lover's feet, seized his hand, and laid her face against it.
"You are my guardian angel," she whispered (the invalid in the next room
must not be disturbed by the sound of voices); "you have rescued that
saint from her enemies and saved me from perdition. Oh, Ludwig, if only
you knew what I have suffered! Marie's every sigh, the feverish words
uttered in her delirium, have been so many accusations oppressing my
heart. These have been terrible days! To be compelled hourly to dread
either of two horrible blows, and to have to pray to God that, if both
could not be averted, to let the milder one fall! Death would have been
welcome, indeed, compared to the other one. To listen tremblingly, hour
after hour, for the knock at the door which would announce the messenger
sent to bear Marie to Paris, or death with his scythe to bear her to the
grave! And then to have to look on her sufferings, and hear her pray for
her betrayer! Oh, it was terrible, terrible! Ludwig, you are just--as
God is just. I have suffered as any woman in the Bible suffered. You
have taken my load of sorrow from me, have released my heart from the
tortures of perdition. All the evil I have done, you have made good.
Therefore, do you pronounce judgment on me. Condemn me or forgive me. I
deserve both; I will accept either at your hands."
Without a word Ludwig Vavel raised the woman to her feet, clasped her in
his arms, and pressed his lips to hers in a long, long kiss. In it were
forgiveness, love, union.
* * * * *
From the adjoining room came the sounds of a piano. Some one was playing
the hymn of the Hungarian militia.
Ludwig and Katharina hurried into the room. Marie was seated at the
piano, arrayed in her favorite blue gown. Her transparent hands hovered
over the ivory keys, and lured from them the melancholy air, to which
she sang, in a voice that seemed to come from the distant clouds:
"Was kleinliche Bosheit ausgedacht,
Hat unserer Liebe ein Ende gemacht."
At the last word her arms sank to her sides; the exertion had completely
exhausted her. But she struggled bravely to overcome her weakness. She
smiled brightly at Ludwig and Katharina, and said:
"This melancholy song was not intended for you two. It was only to show
Ludwig how I have improved. You two will love each other very dearly,
won't you? And you will go far, far away from here, and leave 'Marie'
buried in her tomb. I don't mean myself; I mean the troublesome girl who
has made so much ill feeling in the world, because of whom so many
people have suffered; the girl whose ashes rest there in the steel
casket, and whose life was so sad that she had no desire to live longer.
But 'Sophie' is going with you out into the world. She will see how
happy you two can be. And now, help me to the window; I want to look at
the evening star,"
They rolled her arm-chair to the window, and Vavel opened the sash to
admit the fresh air from the garden.
Marie clasped Ludwig's and Katharina's hands in both her own, and
whispered in a faint voice:
"You will forget the past, will you not? or think of it only as a
dream--a disagreeable dream. And don't go back to the Nameless Castle.
The veiled woman, the locked doors, the silent man, the telescope, the
lonely promenades in the garden--all, all were dreams. Don't think of
them! Forget them all! The clanking swords, the thunder of cannons--all
these were not. We only dreamed it. We never lived under the shadow of a
throne. Who was Marie? A sovereign of cats, and crown princess in the
realm of little dogs and birds--a nursery tale to tell naughty little
children who will not go to sleep! But Sophie Botta will be here
to-morrow, and the next day, and always; she will be with you, the
silly, stupid little maid, who can do nothing but obey those whom she
loves with all her heart."
Vavel with difficulty refrained from giving voice to his overwhelming
grief.
"Just see," Marie continued in a gay tone, "how much better I am!
Heretofore, when the hour came for the evening star to appear, the fever
would come too, and to-day it has failed to come with the star. Joy has
cured me. Don't take your hands away from me, Ludwig--Katharina. They
will--hold me--hold me--fast."
But they did not "hold her fast."
And why should such a being remain on this earth--a being that could do
naught else but love and renounce, adoring her nation even when it
persecuted her?
* * * * *
A dark thunder-cloud rose above the horizon out over the Hansag. The sky
looked like a vaulted ceiling hung with mourning draperies. From time
to time a distant flash of lightning illumined the cloud-curtain, then
would be heard the rumbling of thunder, like the deep tones of a distant
organ.
Under the threatening sky lay the glittering lake. Its surface of
quicksilver was streaked here and there with black shadows--the track of
the wind-gusts racing across it. The trees were rustling in the wind,
making a sound like a distant choral.
On the shore of Lake Neusiedl stood the Volons in rank and file. They
were waiting for something that was coming from the farther shore of the
little cove.
Presently the glistening surface of the water was ruffled by a black
object that pushed out from the shore. It was a boat. Six men were
rowing, a seventh held the rudder. There was a coffin in the boat,
covered with a simple pall. No ostentatious trappings ornamented the
coffin; only a myrtle wreath lay on it. A woman, sat at the head of it,
another at the foot--the former a lady, the latter a peasant wife.
The six men, with even and powerful strokes, sent the craft through the
ripples which occasionally leaped into the boat, as if they would salute
her who had so often toyed with them.
At the moment the boat touched the shore the storm burst. Vivid
lightning illumined the heavy downpour of rain, and it seemed as if the
black-robed forms bore the coffin to its grave amid a flood of
harpstrings that reached from heaven to earth.
The two weeping women followed the coffin; at a little distance they
seemed two shadows. The helmsmen of the funeral boat now stepped to the
head of the grave and opened his lips to speak, but a heavy peal of
thunder drowned his voice. When it had ceased he said:
"My brave comrades, you are here to pay a last honor to your patroness.
There is nothing left for us to fight for. Peace has been proclaimed.
The conqueror takes from you a plot of ground twenty-four hundred square
miles in extent. The one lying here takes from you only six feet of
earth. To you remain your tattered flag and your wounds. Return to your
homes. My sword has finished its work, and will accompany the saint for
whom it was drawn!"
As he spoke he broke the keen blade in twain and cast the pieces into
the grave, adding impressively, "May God give us forgetfulness, and may
we be forgotten!"
The Volons fired three salvos over the grave, the reverberating thunder
and the flashing lightning mingling with the noise of the muskets.
When the storm had passed the moon rose in a cloudless sky. Only the
waves, which had been stirred by the tempest, continued to murmur to
their favorite who was sleeping peacefully in her grave on the shore.
Marie had asked to be buried on the grassy slope by the side of her old
friend the Marquis d'Avoncourt, and that no other monument should mark
her resting-place save the imperishable tree which turns to stone after
it dies.
And what could have been graven on her tomb? A name that was not hers? A
history that was not true?
Or would it have been well to carve on the marble her true life-history,
that those who would not believe it might wage a lawsuit against an
epitaph?
No; it was better so. No one would ever learn what had become of her.
Vavel had prayed for forgetfulness--that he might be forgotten.
His prayer was granted.
For a few years afterward tales were repeated about Sophie Botta, and
some of her kinsfolk came from a distance to claim the sum of money
Vavel had placed in the hands of the authorities for the young girl's
heirs. But none of the claimants could produce satisfactory proofs of
kinship, and after a while Sophie Botta was forgotten by all the world,
as were Count Vavel and Katharina.
The Nameless Castle as well vanished from the face of the earth, as have
entire villages which once stood on the treacherous shores of Lake
Neusiedl.
Gradually, imperceptibly, the castle disappeared; gradually,
imperceptibly, bastion after bastion vanished, until not even the stone
hand which held aloft the sword in the noble escutcheon, or the towering
weathervane, could be seen above the placid waters of the lake.