A MAN OF THE MOUNTAINS
“Count Paul found Christine insensible upon the road, excellency, and
called at once to his steward, who followed him on horseback:
“‘Hans, do you know this woman?’
“‘I, Herr Count--_donnerwetter_, that I should know her! And yet----’
“‘Hans, you are a fool! I asked you if you knew the woman. Get down at
once and lift her from the ground.’
“The steward lumbered off his horse and raised the girl in his arms.
She lay with her white face hidden by the rushes at the roadside; but
now the Count could see it, pale as it was, and pinched and wan, yet
the face of Christine, unalterable in its sweetness.
“‘Herr Count,’ said the steward, ‘this is no woman from Jajce; she has
the clothes of a peasant of Zara. And, Herr Count, I think that she is
dead.’
“He spoke, they tell me, as if he had taken some dumb thing in his
hands. That his master should be concerned because a peasant girl lay
dying in the road was beyond his comprehension. He had seen them die
by scores, for he had lived forty years in the mountains. One more or
less--what matter? Oh, life is very cheap in Bosnia, excellency.
“The Count waited until his steward had raised Christine up; but no
sooner had he looked upon her face than he sprang from his horse to
bend over her and listen for a beat of the heart or a sign of breathing
in the body. They laugh now when they tell the story in Jajce,
excellency, for that was the first time their master had held a woman
in his arms.
“He knelt at her side, and holding his hand upon her breast, he spoke
again to his steward:
“‘Dip this handkerchief in the lake and bring water in the cup of the
flask. Quick--have you not seen a woman faint before?’
“The steward stared with increasing wonder.
“‘_Himmel_,’ he cried--‘a little brandy upon her lips, now.’
“‘Would you choke her, imbecile? Get the water, before I lay my whip
upon your shoulders!’
“The man ran to the brink of the lake, for they had just passed the
town of Jézero, and bringing the water and the wetted handkerchief,
he helped his master to bathe Christine’s forehead and to chafe her
hands. Count Paul had not followed the great war of the year ’70 for
nothing. There was no better surgeon in the State. So well did he treat
the patient whom God had put in his path that anon she opened her eyes,
and the name upon her lips was neither that of her lover nor of the
shepherd. Excellency, she spoke of me, crying for Father Andrea.
“‘Girl,’ said the Count in his brusque way, now wetting her lips with
the brandy, ‘how did you come here?’
“The question was repeated, but she had no strength to answer him, only
crying for me again, and then shutting her eyes as though she would
sleep.
“‘I am tired,’ she said; ‘oh, I sink through the ground. Let me rest,
Andrea; it is well with me here.’
“Her voice was weak when she spoke, yet it was sweet as of old time--a
plaintive, winning voice, captivating as the note of a bird. Count
Paul the recluse, accustomed to the grating tones of the native women,
thought it the prettiest voice he had heard.
“‘Well,’ said he, ‘you are right; this is no peasant woman. I am going
to carry her to the house. Let the white room be prepared--and hot
wine. Do you hear me--the white room and hot wine!’
“The steward’s eyes were very wide open when he heard these things,
signor, and he did not cease to mutter to himself while he raised the
girl from the ground and put her into the arms of his master--strong
arms, which made very light of the burden, yet bore it with much
tenderness. He himself rode on as he had been told, cantering over the
soft grass of the park to the great house which for five centuries has
been the home of the Zaloskis and the keystone of their fortunes.
“‘_Himmel_,’ he said as he rode, ‘that he should bring a woman to his
doors--he who has lived forty years without touching a woman’s hand--a
slut that he picks off the road. And in the white room, too! What a
thing to get abroad! He will be taking a wife next, and she will
be calling me “fool” also. God of Heaven! that I was born to such a
service.’
“He continued to mutter thus all the way to the great house; and when
he had come within call of it he bawled to the grooms and the men about
that they should run down the road and help their master. So great was
the din which he made that all the household presently was abroad in
the park, and only the maidservants and the priest were left to listen
to him. Not that they failed to be ready listeners, excellency, for a
woman could ever roll a scandal prettily in the mouth; and as for the
priest, Father Mark, he would have walked an hour any day to wag his
tongue with five minutes’ gossip.
“‘What,’ he cried now to the complaining steward, ‘the Herr Count
brings a guest to the white room? He has picked her up in the road, say
you? Out on you for a tale-bearer!’
“‘It is no tale, Father, as you may learn presently for yourself. He
is coming through the park now, and is cuddling the woman as you would
cuddle a bottle--that is to say, as I--sinner that I am----’
“The priest waited to hear no more. Hatless and without his cloak,
thinking nothing of the heat of the sun or the dignity of his office,
he strode over the grass with long strides on his journey to meet the
Count. That a woman was to be brought as a guest to the house of Paul
Zaloski was a thing he could not contemplate with equanimity. Yet he
had to contemplate it presently, when little Christine lay sleeping
in the white room of the château, and the servants were striving one
against the other to do her service.”