The road to Castle Reifenstein, upon which the three friends had
started, ran through the village of Tausens and the isolated dwellings
of the peasants on the bank of the Schwarzenbach. After passing the
last of these it left the broad beaten valley road, turned to the
right, and passed around the mountain crowned by the castle, gradually
ascending on the northern more gentle slope until, after many windings,
it reached a bridge leading across a broad, deep chasm in the rocks to
the ancient portals of the castle.
Before the invention of gunpowder Castle Reifenstein had been an
impregnable fortress, although it owed little of its impregnability to
art. Nature had provided for the discomfiture of any possible besiegers
by the inaccessibility of the steep rocks that formed its base on the
southern side.
If the ancient Counts of Tausens, whose nest it was, raised the
drawbridge they were secure from any attack, for on one side it was as
impossible to climb the smooth, straight wall of rock, on the summit of
which stood the castle, as it was to spring across the broad and ugly
chasm, several hundred feet deep, across which the bridge was flung,
and which cut off the rock from the gentle declivity of the mountain on
its northern side. Thus a few archers, placed behind the walls and in
the round tower, could command the entire road up from the valley.
On the eastern side alone the rock was connected with the mountain. A
green meadow, which had latterly been converted into a garden, extended
from the forest upwards to the wall. Art had here contributed towards
rendering the fortress impregnable. A single huge door opened out of
the castle courtyard upon this garden. At either end of the wall had
stood a huge round tower; of one of these nothing remained but the base
in ruins, while the other, in good preservation, stood proudly erect in
close vicinity to the inhabited wing of the castle.
The two towers and the wall of the court-yard formed a more than
sufficient protection for this eastern side of the castle, for only a
few besiegers at a time could approach it through the irregular and
broken masses of rock that covered this part of the mountain. Even the
peasants seldom ventured to approach the castle on this side. They used
the broad road from Tausens almost exclusively, and only a few stout
mountaineers preferred the narrow foot-path that left the broad road
just behind the last house in Tausens and led straight up the mountain,
then turning to the left cut off many of the windings of the road until
it joined it again on the summit at the bridge.
Paul paused at the spot where this foot-path left the road. "Is there
anything more tiresome in the world than a broad, well-kept road like
this?" he said. "All the world can use it,--any fool may walk along it
and go dreaming on to his destination. I hate the smooth white dusty
thing! Look at this inviting foot-path, Leo; it is wonderfully
attractive. Suppose we leave the stupid road?"
"The landlord warned us against it," Leo replied. "He said we should
surely lose our way if we took it."
"Bah, nonsense! These peasants always think that city men will lose
their way; we have the castle always in sight, how can we go astray?
Noble Knight von Herwarth, what do you think?"
"I am for the foot-path."
"Forwards, then! The majority carries the day."
Paul struck into the foot-path which, leading through thick alders, was
too narrow to allow of the friends walking abreast. Leo followed Paul,
and Herwarth came last, but he had hardly gone a few steps before he
stepped upon a loose stone and almost fell. He recovered himself
instantly, but when he attempted to proceed he felt a violent pain in
his ankle. He stood still for a moment and then tried again to walk,
but the pain was too severe: he could not go on.
"What is the matter, noble knight?" Delmar called back to him.
"I do not know: I must stop a moment; my foot pains me. I hope it will
pass away in a moment."
But it did not pass away. The pain, on the contrary, increased with
every attempt to walk. Herwarth had to sit down upon a fallen tree: he
could not go on.
This was a most unpleasant interruption to their expedition. They
consulted what had best be done. Paul proposed to go back immediately
to the village to procure surgical aid, but this Kuno would not listen
to; he was sure that rest would bring him relief; it would be quite
time enough to consult a Tyrolean village doctor when the hurt was
proved to be serious, which he was quite certain was not the case. He
begged his friends to proceed quietly without him, and he would wait
here a couple of hours until Paul should return, after having
accompanied Leo to the castle-gate. By that time the pain would have
abated sufficiently to allow of his walking back the short distance
they had come. It certainly was no misfortune to lie on the soft moss
for a couple of hours and enjoy the lovely landscape.
At first Paul and Leo refused to agree to Kuno's plan, but after they
had examined his ankle, and convinced themselves as far as was possible
for the uninitiated in the science of surgery that the leg was neither
broken nor seriously injured, they consented to do as he desired. They
left him lying comfortably on the grass lighting a cigar, and once more
Leo advised Paul to pursue the road where they could not go wrong.
This, however, the latter was less inclined to do than before.
"Can I leave our wounded knight alone in the desert for so long?" he
asked. "The foot-path is much shorter than the worthy postmaster said.
As soon as I have delivered you safely to your uncle I shall return by
the same path to Kuno."
The shortest road! Many a one among the mountains has found that the
shortest road to his destination has proved the longest for him in the
end. Thus it was with Delmar and Leo.
As long as the foot-path led through the bushes it was easy to trace;
it was evidently not much frequented, but the grass was worn upon it
and it could not be missed; the case, however, was different when it
emerged upon a steep, stony waste,--here it suddenly vanished, and even
Leo's practised eye could find no signs of it over the stones.
"I think it would be better to go back to the road," said Leo, after
vainly searching about.
"Then we must retrace our steps, for we cannot turn to the left, where
it lies, because of that deep chasm."
"Better go all the way back than lose our time and our way, as the
landlord warned us we should among these stones."
"We have come a quarter of a mile at least, and as we have been
always ascending we must be half-way up. I cannot see how we can go
wrong,--there is the castle always before us to point the way. The
nearest way is the best. Let us scramble directly up over these stones,
and we must reach the castle."
Leo was not convinced, but he yielded and followed Paul, who began to
clamber sturdily over the stones.
It was a wearisome ascent. At first the stones were small, often
slipping and turning beneath the feet; but gradually they grew larger,
until they became huge blocks, between which it was often very
difficult to find a way.
It was no longer a stony waste which they were trying to traverse, but
a chaos of immense masses of rock piled one upon another. There was not
the slightest trace of a path; and Delmar, who went first, had to turn
to the right and left continually to advance a single step upwards.
"Leo," he said at last, stopping to wipe his heated brow, "I see now
that you were right, and that I am an ass,--a discovery, by the way,
which I have made frequently during my life. This climbing is the very
devil!"
"If it only led somewhere!" Leo replied; "but I am afraid we are among
the rocks against which our host warned us. I cannot see the castle any
longer."
In fact the castle had vanished. In vain did Paul look in all
directions for its massive proportions. He had forgotten to keep it in
view lately, absorbed as he had been in the difficulties that beset
their progress, and now he noticed for the first time that it was
nowhere to be seen.
In the direction in which Delmar had thought to find it there arose
perpendicularly from among the chaos of rough blocks of stone, a smooth
wall of rock. It might be that the castle was upon its summit, but they
were too near to it to decide this question.
"We're in a deuce of a scrape!" Delmar exclaimed in irritation. "We are
positively lost. I can see no way forwards or backwards. The enchanted
castle has vanished, and I have no idea where it is. I believe the evil
fairy Hilda has conjured it away."
A clear, merry laugh answered this outburst of irritation. Leo and Paul
looked startled in the direction whence it proceeded; but in vain: no
human being was to be seen. So melodious a peal of laughter could have
come only from the throat of a young girl, and she must be hidden by
some one of the giant masses of rock that barred both way and vision on
every side.
Paul thought he knew exactly whence the sound came. His curiosity was
strongly excited, and without reflecting he left the spot where he was
standing with Leo and began forthwith to climb a huge rock upon his
right, from the top of which he hoped to have a more extended view. It
was a difficult undertaking, and not without peril; but Paul's frame
was lithe and his muscles steeled by constant gymnastic exercise. He
succeeded in gaining the summit, and the result amply rewarded his
exertions; for not only could he see far and wide over the chaos of
rocks, but he found himself face to face with the girl whose gleeful
laughter had just resounded in his ears,--she was sitting on this very
rock, a little beneath the summit, on the other side. As she looked up
at the young man there was evident in her eyes an admiration of his
strength and agility which did not escape him and which flattered his
vanity.
"Excellently done. Cousin Leo!" she said, laughing. "You have atoned
for your blunder in losing your way among the Reifenstein rocks by your
agility in climbing them."
Paul was startled by the frank, fearless tone of this address. 'Cousin
Leo!' Hilda von Heydeck then was sitting at his feet, and she took him
for the expected cousin whom she thus familiarly accosted. Even had she
not spoken he would have recognized her, remembering the postmaster's
description, by the masses of golden curls beneath her picturesque
straw hat, only she was far more charming and lovely than he had
anticipated. He had smiled when Hansel, in his enthusiasm, had compared
Hilda to an angel; now he thought the comparison admirable. There was a
rare and wondrous charm in the expression that animated the young
girl's lovely features; and nevertheless the merry, unrestrained
laughter became her well, and did not disturb the truly feminine grace
of her whole bearing.
For the first moment Paul was so surprised by the girl's extraordinary
beauty that he, usually so ready with an answer, could not find a word
to say in reply. His amazement, so evident in his face, increased
Hilda's merriment. She sprang up lightly from where she was sitting and
made a profound courtesy, saying, "I see I must introduce myself, or my
cousin Leo will not deign to say one word to me. Fraeulein Hilda von
Heydeck has the honour to receive her cousin among the Reifenstein
rocks. In her own distinguished person she has descended from the
enchanted castle to guide her bewildered cousin into the right path.
And now give me your hand, Leo; we shall soon be the best of friends,
if you are only half as delightful as papa says you are."
She held out her hand to Paul, who took it and kissed it, whereupon she
withdrew it hastily, saying, with a blush, "That is not the custom with
us, cousin!"
"In Germany a man has a right to kiss his lovely cousin's cheek," Paul
replied, having quickly recovered from his first surprise; "but I dare
not lay claim to such a privilege, since I am not the happy man you
think me, but only his poor friend, Paul Delmar."
Hilda blushed crimson. "You are not my cousin Leo?" she asked, in great
confusion.
"No, unfortunately not; I wish I were. My friend Leo is down below
somewhere trying to find a path out of this rocky labyrinth. Leo! Leo!
where are you?"
"Here!" Leo's voice replied, from a considerable distance. He had
mistaken the direction whence the sound of Hilda's laugh was heard, and
had consequently plunged more deeply into the bewildering labyrinth.
Paul's repeated call told him where his friend was to be found; he
scrambled over several rocks and finally reached the foot of the huge
mass upon which Paul and Hilda were standing.
"Most fortunate of mortals!" Delmar called down to him, "come up here.
I will give you a hand, that you may display all the grace you are
master of in ascending. Here you will find the lovely fairy who reigns
in the enchanted Castle Reifenstein, and who has descended to aid us
miserable mortals."
With no less astonishment than Delmar had experienced Leo now looked up
at Hilda, who was standing beside his friend; he, too, recognized her
from the postmaster's description, and he, too, thought her extremely
beautiful. Still her beauty made no extraordinary impression upon him;
he thought the worthy innkeeper's enthusiastic comparison of her to an
angel rather exaggerated; nevertheless he was most pleasantly surprised
by this encounter with his cousin.
Before Paul could hold out a hand to help her she sprang lightly down
from rock to rock until she stood beside Leo, to whom she held out her
hand with the same easy grace with which she had offered it to his
friend. This time, however, although it was grasped cordially, it was
not kissed, and was instantly relinquished.
Leo had anticipated with a certain anxiety his first meeting with the
cousin whose hand had been destined by the will of her father and of
his own to be bestowed upon him. He now stood face to face with the
destined bride whom he had made up his mind never to marry, without any
of the embarrassment he had expected to feel when he should first see
her. No; any uncomfortable sensation of the kind was entirely dispelled
by Hilda's easy frank reception of him as a near relative. She
evidently saw in him, not a future lover, but simply her cousin Leo, to
whom she was ready and pleased to show all the familiar kindness
warranted by their close relationship, and he was instantly as much at
his ease with her as if they had known each other for years.
"It is a very extraordinary but none the less delightful chance. Cousin
Hilda, that led you here to us in the midst of this rocky waste, where,
of all places in the world, I least expected to meet you."
"It is no chance," she replied, looking with a smile at Delmar, who had
just made his descent from the rock. "Papa and I have been expecting
you for some days; a letter from your father told us that you and one
of your friends were coming to the Tyrol. When a little while ago I saw
from my window two strangers coming up to the castle, I instantly
divined that you were one of them, and when I saw you go astray among
the Reifenstein rocks I made haste to join you to show you the path,
which it is impossible that any stranger should find. I had just
climbed this rock to see where you were when I heard voices close by. I
sat down instantly I confess to play the part of eavesdropper, and when
I heard that the 'evil fairy Hilda' had 'conjured away' the castle I
could not help laughing aloud."
As she spoke Hilda gave Paul an arch smile. "To be sure, the 'evil
fairy' afterwards became a 'lovely fairy,' but she will always remember
the first adjective bestowed upon her."
"Be merciful to a poor sinner," Paul begged, "and do not reckon against
him words wrung from his despair in finding himself lost in such a
labyrinth."
"We shall see hereafter whether I can exercise mercy for justice; first
of all I must guide these two erring wanderers up the mountain and into
the foot-path."
"Did you not come down from the castle by some other way, Fraeulein
Hilda?" Delmar asked.
"I did, it is true, come by another and a much shorter way," Hilda
replied; "but it is fit only for the feet of the evil mountain-fairy of
an enchanted castle, and not for two fashionable men from the city; I
cannot show you that way."
"Do you suppose that a path you can use will be too difficult for us?
You show very little confidence in our powers. Pray show us the nearest
path."
"I will do so in punishment for your presumption, but upon one
condition. Promise me that the instant you are dizzy you will say so,
that we may turn back; the path lies along the very brink of an abyss."
"I promise; but I shall not have to redeem my word."
"Will you promise too, Cousin Leo?"
"Yes; but you need have no fear, neither Delmar nor I know what it is
to have vertigo."
"Then follow me."
Hilda walked on before. In perfect security, and with an airy grace
that enchanted Delmar, she sprang from stone to stone, and in a few
minutes they had reached the base of the wall of rock, which here
ascended nearly perpendicularly several hundred feet. Here she paused.
"There is still time to turn back," she said, seriously, "and I beg
you, Herr Delmar, and you, Cousin Leo, to do so; I ought not to show
you the path up the rock, an accident might so easily happen for which
I never should forgive myself."
"You shall have no cause for self-reproach," Paul replied, "for I see
the path clearly now. You do not show it to me, I choose it myself. It
leads up the rock just here; it has been worn by the goats, and is just
what I like,--perfectly easy to follow."
The path was certainly plain to be seen by any one who chose to follow
it. It was scarcely a foot broad, and went directly up the side of the
mountain; on one hand was the perpendicular wall of rock, and on the
other the abyss, and the higher it went the steeper and dizzier the
path became.
Paul had taken in at a glance the difficulty and danger of the ascent;
but he did not hesitate a moment to begin it, nor would he have done so
had the path been twice as steep and giddy as it was.
"Herr Delmar, I pray you turn back!" Hilda exclaimed, anxiously; but he
continued to advance fearlessly.
"Let us follow him, cousin," Leo said, with a smile. "Make your mind
easy about Paul; he will carry through whatever he attempts; no power
on earth can stay him. I am convinced that he would take that path even
although he knew that he should fall into the abyss. But he will not
fall; he has no fear, and he is never dizzy."
"And you, Cousin Leo?"
"I? Why should I fear? Only those who love life fear to lose it."
"What can you mean, cousin?" There was a genuine compassion and ready
sympathy in her words that soothed Leo. Hilda looked at him very
reproachfully. Did she know that her father had destined her to be his
bride, and was she wounded that he could speak thus?
"Well, Leo, are you going to stay down there?" asked Paul, who had
already ascended about fifty feet of the path, and who now turned and
looked down at the two cousins. As he looked he leaned forwards so far
over the abyss that Hilda experienced a sudden vertigo. Hitherto she
had never known the sensation even when looking from the dizziest
heights; but when she saw how carelessly Delmar leaned forwards so far
that it seemed as if he must fall, she fairly trembled. "For God's
sake, Herr Delmar, turn away!" she exclaimed.
"Have no fear, lovely fairy!" was the reply. "'Tis true that a magic
power draws me towards you, but I will not choose the direct way to
reach you at present. Indeed, you have calumniated this path,--it is as
easy as possible, and commands a glorious view. Well, Leo, are you not
coming? Do you not like it?"
"I am coming," Leo cried, and quietly walked on after his friend.
Hilda followed him up the height. How often she had ascended the rock
by this path! how often, when, only the hardiest mountaineer could
follow her, had she descended by it into the valley, and never before
to day had she thought of its danger! Now she was fairly tormented by
anxiety.
Not upon Leo's account; he walked on before her with as firm and even a
step as if he had been upon level ground. He, however, neglected no
necessary precaution, testing the firmness of the stony soil, as Hilda
saw, at every step; for him the path had no danger, but it was full of
peril for Delmar, who seemed to challenge it in the wildest fashion.
Where the path was so narrow that there was almost none at all, and the
greatest caution was necessary at every step, Delmar walked as
carelessly as if he were upon a broad road, and at the very most
perilous point he stopped, coolly relighted his cigar, and then walked
on, not even looking down to pick his way, but with his gaze riveted
upon the distant view.
Hilda's heart throbbed as she observed his careless demeanour; she had
warned him, but she did not venture to call to him again. The ascent of
the rocks had never seemed to her half so long, and only when she saw
that Paul had reached in safety the small but secure strip of
meadowland that intervened between the old castle-wall and the edge of
the precipice, did she once more breathe freely and with an easy mind
follow Leo, with whom she soon joined his friend.
Paul received her with a laugh. "Thanks, charming fairy," he said,
again advancing to the edge of the precipice and leaning forwards so as
to overlook the entire path up the rock; "thanks for the greatest
enjoyment I have had in our mountain tour. I delight in a path like
this; it is inspiriting to climb the rocks by it. One false step is
certain death. Life is the meed only of strength and sureness of foot.
Let fear once assail the climber, vertigo is sure to follow and he is
lost; but for a steady brain and strong muscles there is no danger; and
what a glorious prospect we have had over the fertile valleys to the
snowy peaks that bound the horizon on the south! If I lived at Castle
Reifenstein I should choose no other path save this by which to reach
the valley, and I am sure that you also. Leo, will visit us in Tausens
by no other."
"You are much mistaken," Leo quietly replied. "I have come once by this
path, and I shall not again pass over it, least of all in descending to
the valley. I shall take the safer footpath or the road, even although
it be somewhat longer."
"How can an artist be so terrible a Philistine!" Paul exclaimed,
indignantly.
"If not to run into unnecessary peril is to be a Philistine, I
certainly am one. You will admit, I know, that I am not backward in
facing danger when any good end is to be gained thereby."
"I should be the last to dispute that. Do I not know that you, my
unattainable model and example, are all compact of the strongest and
loftiest principles? Do I even try to emulate you? I should be the most
tiresome fellow in the world if but the half of your virtues were mine,
although I confess that they suit you remarkably well; so keep them
all, I pray. Trust one who knows, lovely fairy; your excellent cousin
is the embodiment of pure principles and strong good sense; he has only
one fault: he chooses his friends very foolishly."
"Are you not one of them?" asked Hilda.
"Exactly; that is just it. His reputation suffers from my friendship. I
am principled against principle. My aim in life is to do what I like. I
am a thorough egotist, who has no idol but self. Now is such a man a
fit companion for Leo von Heydeck? He should blush to own such a
friend, by whom he may be judged by others. But here we are safely
arrived at the castle, and I will take my leave. I must bid you
farewell, Fraeulein von Heydeck, only asking permission to return and
visit my friend Leo at Castle Reifenstein."
They had, in fact, reached the garden, which lay on the eastern
declivity of the mountain, and before them was the colossal old pile.
"You are not going to leave us, Herr Delmar?" Hilda asked, in surprise.
"You cannot be in earnest. Rooms were arranged for you and Leo two days
ago. Of course you will stay at Castle Reifenstein with my cousin?"
"A most kind and amiable invitation, and so tempting from such lovely
lips that I should not perhaps be able to refuse it had I not promised
to return immediately to Tausens. As, unfortunately, I have so
promised, there is nothing for me to do except to thank you most
sincerely for the hospitality, which, to my regret, I cannot accept."
"To whom can you possibly have made such a promise?"
"To a third friend, the noble knight Kuno von Herwarth, who, but for a
slight accident upon the way, would have accompanied us to the castle.
I promised him that I would return to him as soon as possible, and hard
as it is, I must keep my word."
"Paul is right," Leo added. "Kuno expects him, and I know that his
peculiar egotism would make all persuasion to stay useless. His
selfishness will not permit him to allow Herwarth to wait for him
longer than is absolutely necessary."
"Not at all; you have no comprehension of good sensible selfishness. I
don't trouble myself about Herwarth one whit; but it gives me an
uncomfortable sensation to know that he is lying down below there upon
the grass, looking up at the castle, pulling out his watch every few
minutes, and thinking I might have returned long since. And so for my
own sake--what is Herwarth to me?--I shall hurry back to him."
"Exactly; that is the very kind of egotism in which you excel
particularly."
"If you suppose your sneer will have any effect in detaining me, you
are mistaken. It only confirms my purpose. The delightful goat's track
will take me to our unfortunate friend in half an hour."
Hilda's heart beat afresh as she heard Delmar announce this intention;
she knew how much more dangerous was the descent than the ascent of the
steep path. True, she had fearlessly tripped up and down by it many a
time; but then she knew every stone, every dangerous spot, and was,
besides, accustomed to mountain-climbing. The peril was twice as great
for a stranger, and she trembled at the thought that if his foot should
slip he was lost. She had known Delmar but one half-hour; but his odd
talk and manner interested her much, and he was her cousin's friend.
Surely she might treat him with some degree of familiarity. So when
Paul lifted his hat by way of farewell, she held out her hand to him
with a slight blush at the remembrance of the kiss bestowed upon it
half an hour before. The blush made her look lovelier than ever, and
Paul absolutely lost his heart as he slightly pressed the little hand
thus graciously offered.
"I cannot ask you to break your promise to your friend, Herr Delmar,"
the girl said, not without a shade of embarrassment. "I can only hope
that both you and my cousin Leo's other friend will consent to be my
father's guests at Castle Reifenstein. This I trust my cousin will
arrange with you and your friend to-morrow morning. In the mean time I
have a request to make of you. Perhaps your selfishness will allow you
to grant it."
"Oh, my selfishness is a very convenient selfishness; of course it
allows me to do whatever gives me pleasure, and nothing, I am sure,
could give me greater pleasure than to fulfil any request of yours,
Fraeulein von Heydeck."
"It is certainly a most courteous selfishness," Hilda said, with such a
bewitchingly merry glance that Paul registered a silent vow upon the
spot to bring her the moon from the skies if she asked for it.
"Only tell me what you desire, Fraeulein von Heydeck," he exclaimed,
"and I will make impossibilities easy!"
"I am not quite so exacting," Hilda replied. "My desire can be easily
complied with: it is only that you should return to Tausens by the
usual way. Since you are such an admirable mountaineer, I will allow
you to take the common foot-path, and show you myself where it is; you
cannot miss your way by it in descending the mountain. Will you do as I
ask, Herr Delmar?"
"Ah, here I recognize the lovely but evil fairy who has already cast
her spells upon me! Nevertheless, a promise is a promise, and must be
kept."
Hilda thanked him merrily, especially for the title of "evil fairy,"
and declared herself quite ready to act as his guide to the foot-path
down the mountain, the shortest way to which was through the garden and
court-yard of the castle. She went first, Leo and Paul following.
Paul could see nothing but his lovely guide; he had no eyes for the
beauty of the garden through which they were passing, and he scarcely
noticed that as they entered a shady walk an old gentleman appeared
walking towards them. Only when Hilda paused and, addressing the old
man, cried joyously, "Papa! here is Cousin Leo with his friend!" did he
turn to scrutinize with a certain curiosity the man of whom he had
heard so much.
The old gentleman was evidently not prepared for the encounter: he had
a book in his hand, and was walking in the garden, reading; apparently
he never would have noticed the strangers if Hilda's exclamation had
not called his attention to them.
When he heard the name of Leo a smile passed over his withered face,
but it vanished in an instant as, with an expression of positive
horror, his eyes opened to their utmost extent, he gazed at Paul, who
approached and, lifting his hat, bowed courteously.
This was an extraordinary reception. For a minute the old man seemed
incapable of speech; he gazed silently at Delmar, whom he waved off
with his hand, retreating a step at his approach. He never even looked
at Leo: Paul absorbed his entire attention.
"Oh, papa, what is the matter?" Hilda asked, in surprise.
But her father did not seem to hear her; the longer he looked at Paul
the more intense was the expression of terror upon his face and in his
eyes; several seconds passed before he could so far control himself as
to stammer in broken words, "What do you want of me?--How did you come
here?--Who are you?"
Delmar had, it is true, cherished no expectation of any particularly
kind or courteous reception at the hands of "uncle monster," and the
picture formed of him in his imagination had not been very flattering,
but what he now saw and heard transcended his expectations: he had not
believed in such a monster as this.
Herr von Heydeck, once tall and handsome, was now a sickly, emaciated
old man, his tall figure was bent, his withered features showed no
trace of their former beauty, and were entirely wanting in the
expression of dignified repose which makes an aged face attractive. The
working of the lips, the protruding light-gray eyes the uncertain
glance of which always avoided your own, made the spare wrinkled
countenance positively ugly.
Paul experienced actual repulsion at first sight of this old man, and
the sensation was heightened by the strange broken questions addressed
to him.
It was not Delmar's habit to show much consideration towards those whom
he disliked, and a sharp reply to the inhospitable queries was upon his
lips, when his glance fell upon Hilda; he saw in her face the terror
and surprise which her father's reception of him was causing her. Could
he wound her? However ugly and unpleasant this old man might be, he was
nevertheless the father of the lovely fairy, and Leo's uncle. In
consideration of this he suppressed the angry retort upon his lips and
replied quietly, "My name is Delmar; I am a friend of your nephew Leo,
whom I have accompanied upon his journey to the Tyrol. I do not know
what further particulars I can give you with regard to myself at
present, Herr von Heydeck."
The old man did not hear his last words, the name alone riveted his
attention. "Delmar! Paul Delmar!" he muttered to himself "I knew it
must be he! What do you want of me?" he continued, aloud. "I must know
what you want. Do not imagine that I am afraid of you! It was only the
first shock of surprise; but I am not in the least afraid of you, not
in the least. Speak! what do you want of me?"
Paul listened with increasing astonishment to these unconnected,
unmeaning words. Had the old man a sudden attack of insanity? It must
be so, else how could he thus receive his nephew's friend? Such a
reception was utterly inexplicable, and least of all could Paul
conceive how Herr von Heydeck had got hold of the name Paul, which he
had muttered to himself. He did not trouble himself, however, to ponder
this, but, seeing Hilda's distress, resolved to cut short so
disagreeable a scene.
"I want nothing of you, Herr von Heydeck," he replied, courteously; "on
the contrary, I bring you something in the person of your nephew
Leo,--my dearest friend. And now I must beg your permission to leave
you, as I must immediately return to Tausens to a friend who awaits me
there."
This quiet reply had the effect of partially allaying the horror that
had filled the old man's mind, and with a degree of self-control he
recovered the consciousness which had nearly forsaken him. He still
regarded Paul with a strange, scrutinizing look, without venturing to
meet his eye. But his composure returned by degrees; his glance fell
upon Leo, and remembering Hilda's words and Delmar's explanation, he
was conscious that he had been guilty of discourtesy and had not yet
spoken to his nephew. "Welcome, Leo!" he said, offering him his hand.
"Yes, I should know you anywhere, you look so like your father, my
Hans. Welcome to Castle Reifenstein. And you, sir, are Leo's friend?
Yes, I remember my brother's letter mentioned that Leo was coming to
the Tyrol with a friend. You, then, are Leo's friend? Herr Delmar? Herr
Delmar? Is that your name?"
"It is; my name is Paul Delmar."
"Paul Delmar; exactly, I knew it; and it is only as Leo's friend that
you come here? you have no further intentions?"
"What further intentions could I possibly have?"
"Of course, of course! What further intentions could you have? Forgive
me for my strange reception of you: my mind sometimes wanders; you must
not take it ill of a feeble old man. I hope, Hilda, that you have the
rooms ready for Leo, and Herr Delmar, Leo's friend?"
"Certainly, papa; they were all ready two days ago; but Herr Delmar
refuses to stay with us, and says he must return to the Post at
Tausens."
"Indeed? I am very sorry."
The 'very sorry' did not sound genuine. The old man's mind was
evidently relieved when he heard that Paul had declined to be his guest
at the castle. Apparently the coldness of his expression of regret
struck him also, for he hastened to atone for it by a request that Paul
would reconsider the refusal. But upon receiving Paul's courteous
excuse for not complying with this request, he forbore to urge it, and
when Delmar expressed his regret in being obliged to return immediately
to Tausens, he did not press him to remain, but gave him his hand in
token of farewell, and expressed, although with some hesitation, a hope
that he would frequently visit his friend Leo at the castle.
Hilda fulfilled her promise; she accompanied Paul through the garden,
the castle court-yard, and the large gateway, across the bridge to the
foot-path, which, lying to the left of the road, passed down the
mountain at some distance from the steep rocky side. She walked beside
Delmar in silence; her father's strange conduct had filled her with
vague anxiety. She felt that there must be some relation which she did
not understand existing between him and Herr Delmar, and she vainly
wondered what it could be. She knew that her father was misanthropic
and inhospitable, but with regard to Leo and his friend he had not been
in the least so until a few moments previously, but had given express
orders that everything should be done to make the young men's stay at
Castle Reifenstein agreeable to them.
What reason could he have for such terror at sight of a stranger, and
for receiving him so disagreeably? She longed to say some word to
Delmar in excuse: she was afraid that he was offended; but what could
she say? In vain she tried to find words suitable to the occasion, and
while she was trying they had crossed the bridge, and she had
accompanied the young man as far as was fitting, and not one word had
she uttered.
Paul, too, who was not often at a loss for words, had been vainly
searching for something to say during their short walk; and thus both
went on together in silence until Hilda held out her hand to him by way
of farewell, when he asked, "Has the lovely fairy no word for me that I
may take as a permission to return?"
Hilda blushed. Why should the words 'lovely fairy' move her strangely
at this moment? She had heard them and laughed at them repeatedly in
the last hour, but now she could not laugh,--she was confused,--for the
tone of Delmar's voice was far more serious than before. She did not
reply directly, but asked in her turn, "Oh, Herr Delmar, what will you
think of us? I do not know what papa had in his mind, but I am sure he
did not mean to offend you. I beg you not to be angry with us!"
"How could I be angry? Your father was under some mistake with regard
to me. What puzzles me is how he should have known that my name is
Paul. Perhaps Colonel von Heydeck mentioned it in his letter."
"No; he wrote only a few words to say that my cousin Leo had gone to
the Tyrol accompanied by a friend, whose name he did not mention, and
that in a few days he would arrive at Castle Reifenstein."
"And yet your father knew my first name, Paul, although I only told him
of my family name."
"I cannot understand it!" Hilda said, dejectedly.
"A riddle indeed. But time will surely bring its solution, and of one
thing I am sure: that I have never given your father any reason to be
angry with me."
"Most certainly not; and I entreat you not to be vexed with papa for
his unkind reception; the next time you come he will be kinder."
"May I come again? Will you allow me?"
"Assuredly; Cousin Leo will be delighted to see you often at the
castle."
"And the lovely fairy?"
"Will never be an evil fairy for you. Adieu, and come soon."
She nodded smiling, and hurried back to the castle much lighter of
heart than she had been a few minutes before.
While Hilda was acting as guide to his friend, Leo had remained in the
castle garden with his uncle. The strange scene of which he had been a
witness had made a disagreeable impression upon him also. While it
lasted he had observed his uncle narrowly, the profound horror he had
testified at sight of Delmar, a horror increased by hearing his name,
and the effort it had cost him to regain his composure. At last the
morbid interest with which the old man watched Paul while he was
present, and with which he followed his retreating figure until it
disappeared behind the wall of the courtyard, vanished. For the first
time Herr von Heydeck seemed to breathe freely, although his mind was
apparently still occupied with Paul alone; he did not turn to welcome
the nephew who had come upon his pressing invitation to visit him from
distant Germany; he did not ask after the brother whom he had not seen
for thirty years; his first words were of Paul.
"This Herr Paul Delmar is your friend?" he asked Leo, with a keen,
suspicious glance.
"My dearest friend from my childhood."
"Ah? from your childhood? You have known him, then, a long while?"
"We were playmates and schoolfellows; we grew up together. He is a few
years older than I, but the slight difference in our ages never
interfered with our friendship."
Again the old man shot a sharp glance of suspicion at his nephew; but
seeing that Leo met his gaze freely and frankly, he shyly averted his
eyes. Lost in thought, he walked silently by Leo's side, forgetting
that the duties of hospitality demanded that he should conduct his
nephew to the castle; he was lost to the present and buried in
recollection of a time long past. Tormenting memories which he had long
laboured to forget, but which would not be forgotten, arose within him
more distinctly and more tormentingly than ever: they filled his mind;
his nephew was forgotten.
Leo did not disturb his uncle's revery, and was very glad not to be
expected to converse. He watched keenly the varying expression in the
features of the old man, who was all unconscious that a scrutinizing
eye was endeavouring to read his very soul. He would else have put a
force upon himself; his hand would not have been clenched, nor would so
gloomy a frown have appeared upon his brow. And certainly he would have
controlled the angry twitching of the thin lips that gave so hateful an
expression to the wrinkled face.
What was going on in this man's soul? Leo asked himself. He no longer
inclined, as he had hitherto, to excuse his uncle's faults, to think
more kindly of him than his knowledge of the past would warrant.
Although he could not divine the mystery that enveloped the old man's
reception of Paul, although he had no conception of what cause his
uncle had to hate Delmar, Leo nevertheless felt that he did hate him
with a fierce hatred that he strove in vain to conceal. The ugly face
was animated by an expression of such savage malice, that Leo could no
longer be in doubt as to the character of this his nearest relative.
The man had no heart; he could not love: he could only hate,--hate with
all his soul!
But no; Leo was wrong! Suddenly there flitted over the sullen, wrinkled
face a smile like a ray of sunshine,--a gentle, loving smile that
transfigured it. Leo, startled by such a contradiction to his thoughts,
looked up to see what had caused such a transformation. The cause was
plain: Hilda was coming quickly towards them.
"But, dearest papa," she called out from some distance, "why are you
and Leo still in the garden? I could not believe you were here when old
Melcher told me. Cousin Leo must be hungry and tired, and you keep him
walking in the garden!"
Herr von Heydeck passed his hand across his forehead as if to smooth
away the ugly frown, and really he almost succeeded in doing so. He
could hardly look kind, but he looked far less sullen and angry, as he
said, in a tone meant to be amiable and gay, "Forgive me, Leo; the
child reminds me of my duty; I was wrong not to take you into the
castle to your room. I am a feeble old man and very forgetful. I have
so much sometimes to confuse me, you must not take it amiss if I have
sinned against hospitality; my Hilda will atone for my omissions."
And Hilda did so; with graceful cordiality she conducted Leo into the
castle and to the rooms that had been prepared for himself and his
friend, her charming face lit up by a happy smile as she saw his
pleased surprise.
Leo was indeed no less surprised than pleased at sight of the bright,
cheerful room they reached after traversing various rooms and a long
dark corridor, and of the glorious view, through open windows, of the
wooded Schwarzenbach valley and its magnificent background of glaciers.
A careful, feminine hand had evidently been busy here in providing
every luxury that could make the expected guest comfortable. Leo was
most touched, however, at seeing a new easel set up by one of the
windows, and beside it, leaning against the wall, a couple of canvases
ready stretched.
"Ah, how kind!" he exclaimed. "A northern room with a glorious
view,--an easel and canvases all ready! I am indeed surprised. How
could you know of my love of painting, my dear Hilda?"
"I know you better than you think, Leo," Hilda replied, gayly. "I have
long known that you were an artist, and I look forward with delight to
overlooking your work. I draw a little, and you must give me some
lessons; my father has told me all about you. Although he shuns all
personal contact with strangers, he is in constant correspondence with
the principal naturalists in all the larger European cities. He has
long made use of his extensive acquaintance among scientific men in
K---- to procure tidings of you and of Uncle Hans. In every letter he
sent there he asked about you both, and nothing pleased him so much as
to receive good news of his only brother and of his nephew. His friends
faithfully replied to him, and thus he has followed your career, even
all through the war; and when I came home from school to live here in
this lonely castle with him, he told me everything that he knew of his
dear relatives. Now you understand how I know that you are not only a
brave officer, but an excellent artist."
"I am no longer an officer, and I only wish I were an artist," Leo
rejoined.
"You are no longer an officer?" Hilda asked, in surprise. "We had not
heard of that."
"Very naturally; I only sent in my resignation a few days ago. My
reasons for doing so I will shortly give to yourself and your father. I
hope he will find them sufficient."
Hilda gave a little nod of assent. She had no doubt that his reasons
for resigning were good, and it never entered her head to imagine that
he had been forced into it by any fault of his own. Desirous as she
naturally was to know what had induced him to quit a career in which,
as her father had informed her, a brilliant future awaited him, her
sense of delicacy prevented her from all further question.
Once more she cast a glance around the room to see that nothing was
wanting, and then took her leave, begging Leo to establish himself
thoroughly in his new home, and assuring him that his luggage would
arrive from Tausens in less than an hour, since she would instantly
despatch a messenger for it. After which, she added, she would await
him in the garden, where the table would be spread in the large
summer-house, and whither she begged he would come to partake of some
refreshment.
Leo was now left alone to occupy himself with a careful examination of
the apartment which was for some time to be his. Everywhere he observed
proofs of kindly loving care. By one window stood a writing-table,
provided with everything that he could require in that line. A
paint-box filled with water-colors and pencils and brushes of all sizes
lay open upon it, and two vases of mountain-flowers adorned a shelf in
the corner of the room.
In a bookcase he found a fine collection of German authors, and the
preponderance of historical works showed that Hilda and his uncle had
been aware of his preference for the study of history.
This regard for his peculiar inclinations, this evident desire to make
his stay in Castle Reifenstein pleasant to him, awakened in Leo a
feeling of remorse. He remembered how unwillingly he had complied with
his father's imperious desire that he should visit these relatives who
received him with such affection. How charming had been the kindly
familiarity of Hilda's manner to him! How evident her desire, by her
care for his comfort, that he should feel at home beneath her father's
roof!
But this father! Leo had never met a human being who had impressed him
so disagreeably at first sight; and yet had not this very uncle given
convincing proof of his friendly interest in his nephew? Would Hilda
ever have been able so to minister to her cousin's tastes and
inclinations if her father had not first taken the trouble to ascertain
what those tastes and inclinations were? Leo reflected that,
disagreeably impressed though he were by his uncle's conduct, the
strange harshness of his first words had borne reference to Paul, and
not to his nephew. What cause the old man could have to hate Delmar Leo
could not guess, but it was none the less certain that, in the sudden
terror caused by Paul's appearance, he had given vent to his hatred in
those first few broken words. The coldness of his uncle's reception of
himself was due entirely to his hatred of Paul, and Leo had no right to
be aggrieved by it,--he had reason to be grateful to the old man for
the kindness shown in the provisions made for his comfort.
True to the principle which forbade his yielding undue influence to
first impressions, Leo was no sooner convinced that he had no cause for
resentment towards his uncle than he exerted himself to conquer all
feeling of repulsion for the old man, or rather to transform any such
feeling into gratitude for the kindness shown him. Although he could
not comply with his wishes in regard to a union between Hilda and
himself, he could at least do his part towards establishing friendly
relations between his nearest of kin and himself, and pave the way for
his father to be reconciled to his only brother.
Filled with this resolve as the result of his short season of
reflection, Leo went into the comfortable sleeping-room adjoining his
sitting-room to remove from his dress all traces of his dusty walk
among the Reifenstein rocks. After which he set out to join his cousin
and uncle in the garden, in compliance with Hilda's invitation.
The way thither, however, after he had left his rooms, was not so easy
to find. He remembered passing through numerous apartments, decorated
partly in mediaeval style and partly according to modern ideas, but how
many he had seen of these, or in what direction he had come after
reaching a large central room into which numerous doors opened, he
could not say. He trusted to his luck, however, and from this central
apartment, which he easily reached, he entered a small room, which he
thought he remembered. The beautiful old wainscoting on the walls had
struck his artistic eye, and he now paused to examine it more
leisurely. The work must have dated from the end of the fourteenth or
the beginning of the fifteenth century, and the carving had evidently
been executed by a master's hand. Around the wall, directly under the
ceiling, ran a long inscription cut into the wood-work. Leo tried to
decipher it, but it baffled him, and he determined to devote himself to
the task when he should be less hurried; at present he would not keep
his cousin waiting for him.
He wandered through a long range of rooms. In each he found interesting
and extremely valuable relics of mediaeval splendour, and many precious
works of art, upon each of which he would have gladly bestowed
attention had he had the time. One room in especial interested him
greatly: it was Herr von Heydeck's study; a large, gloomy apartment,
into which the narrow windows admitted so little light that a dim
twilight reigned in its remote corners although the sun outside was
shining brightly. Its rays could not penetrate the thick octagonal
panes of glass, set in leaden frames, which had apparently not been
cleaned for years and were hardly transparent any longer. All the walls
were covered with wide shelves filled partly with old books, partly
with boxes and bundles of papers, and partly with bottles; these
bottles, containing all sorts of snakes, lizards, and fish, preserved
in spirits, might well have inspired the uninitiated with disgust.
Close by a window, in a deep embrasure of the wall, stood Herr von
Heydeck's writing-table. It was half covered with open books,
and a microscope placed just against the window and several
magnifying-glasses bore witness to the industry of their possessor.
Leo would have greatly enjoyed a thorough examination of the various
objects of interest that made this old room the very ideal of the
magician's den of an enchanted castle, but he preferred to do so in his
uncle's society, and at present what he most desired was to find the
way to the court-yard. He opened a door in this room, and discovered a
dark, steep winding staircase, which he descended, quite sure that it
would lead him into the open air; but when he reached the bottom he
found himself in a dim, deserted kitchen, only so far lighted by a
window high up in the wall as to enable him to distinguish where he
was. Opening an opposite door, he was disappointed to find, not another
room or hall of entrance from the court-yard, but a narrow, dim
passage, which evidently did not lead out to light and air. Probably
this was the way to the round tower of which the postmaster had had so
much to tell.
Leo's curiosity was now excited. He could not withstand the temptation
to go on and have a look at the haunted tower, especially as he found
that the passage was only a few feet long in the thickness of the old
wall, and that a door at the other end was secured only by a large
bolt. This bolt, although as rusty as such old bolts are sure to be, he
managed to slip quite easily, with a noise that sounded ghostly enough
in the dim, low passage, and the door opened without any difficulty,
but his hopes of finding any interesting mediaeval relics here were
disappointed. He had entered a huge round room, evidently occupying the
entire basement of the tower, which must have served in former times
for the dwelling of the warder of the castle, although it had
apparently not been inhabited for many years. The room was lighted by
the old loop-holes, that had been glazed in modern times, and were high
up near the ceiling of the apartment.
Several old pieces of furniture, a dilapidated table, and a child's
crib, in which there were still some dirty pieces of bedding, were
standing in disorder about the room. The thick coating of dust that lay
everywhere upon everything was evidence that for years no one had used
the apartment.
Leo made haste to leave so uninteresting a spot; he closed the door
behind him, producing, as he bolted it again, the same unearthly creak
that had startled the echoes a moment previously, and soon found
himself once more in the spacious deserted kitchen. Here he now
discovered a second door unbolted, by which he entered a large room
with windows opening upon the court-yard. The coarse furniture and
arrangement of this room bore evidence to Leo's mind that it was
probably the abode of the old servant of whom the postmaster had made
mention in his narrative. He would have passed through it to reach the
court-yard by the opposite door, when this was suddenly opened from
without, and an old man appeared upon the threshold with features
inflamed with rage. He shouted out several words in utterly
unintelligible German, and then threw himself upon the young man,
clutching his throat with both hands with a strength and ferocity which
could never have been looked for from his age and appearance. As he did
so he uttered a shriek of rage that sounded more like the howl of a
wild beast than any sound from human lungs.
For a moment Leo was confused by so unexpected an attack. He recoiled
as the man rushed upon him with the evident intention of throttling
him; but in the next instant he freed himself from the griping fingers
at his throat, and threw off his assailant, exclaiming, "Take care!
What do you mean?" words which received no reply save the same
unmeaning howl and a second attack on the part of the old man. This
time however Leo was prepared, and he repulsed his assailant with such
vigour that he staggered backwards and fell on the floor.
Nothing daunted however, the furious creature was on his feet in
an instant, and looking wildly about him, found what he sought,--a
broad-bladed knife that lay upon the window-ledge. This he seized, and
with another cry, rushed once more upon the young man.
It was a struggle for life. Hitherto Leo had only acted in
self-defence; he could no longer spare his assailant. He avoided his
savage thrust by stepping aside, and felled him to the floor with a
blow on the side of his head. He fell headlong and for a moment lost
his hold of the knife; it was but for a moment however: he had not lost
consciousness; and again he would have imperilled Leo's life, when,
"What is the matter here? Melcher, are you crazy?" was heard in a deep
voice, and Herr von Heydeck appeared at the open door. The old man's
hand, raised to strike, fell by his side, and the knife dropped from
his grasp.
Left at liberty by his furious assailant, Leo could see what manner of
man he was. The vacant, animal expression of the old fellow's coarse
features placed it beyond all doubt that he had been attacked by a
maniac. Leo remembered now that when he heard the name 'Melcher' the
Tausens landlord had spoken of this son of old Stoffel's as a
'Troddel,' a name synonymous in the Tyrol with idiot.
Yes, old Melcher was an idiot; the vacant face and the protruding,
watery blue eyes were idiotic; the sudden change in the countenance so
lately animated by bestial rage, and now smiling a dull, unmeaning
smile, was idiotic, and so also was the unintelligible, stammering
speech in which he replied to Herr von Heydeck.
Was there any sense in what he said? Leo could not understand a single
word, but he saw Herr von Heydeck's face grow dark, and noticed that he
glanced anxiously towards the door of the old kitchen and then keenly
at his nephew.
It was evident that his anger was roused by the old man's words; he
turned hastily to Leo with, "What are you prying about here for? Why
should you intrude here?"
"I do not understand you, sir," Leo replied, haughtily. "What possible
motive could I have for 'prying'? Accident led me hither. I was seeking
some means of egress into the court-yard when this old maniac assaulted
me."
"Accident? Melcher tells me he heard the bolt creak."
"He did. I found a door in that deserted kitchen leading to the old
tower. Curiosity prompted me to penetrate its depths, as I would have
explored any other mediaeval dungeon. I had no idea you could be angry
about it or I should not have done so."
Herr von Heydeck grew pale as he heard that Leo had penetrated to the
room in the tower. He paid no heed to his apology, the only thing that
interested him was the fact that Leo had seen this room. "And what did
you find there?" he asked in a trembling voice.
"A wretched, uninteresting, deserted peasant-room, which you however
must know far better than I do, and I cannot conceive why my harmless
curiosity should have so vexed you."
Leo's frank quiet explanation had its effect upon Herr von Heydeck; he
saw that he had been hasty with his nephew, and in a much more composed
manner "You are right," he said, "a wretched, uninteresting, deserted
peasant-room; Melcher used to sleep in that tower-room, but it was too
damp, and so it has not been used for years. There is nothing to see
there. There is indeed no reason for my being vexed, but I do not like
to have people ranging all over the castle, and I cannot see how you
came here, since your rooms are in the other wing."
"I lost my way in the labyrinth of rooms as I was looking for the
stairs leading to the court-yard, and I found myself in your study,
whence I thought to descend into the court-yard by the winding
staircase, which however brought me to the old kitchen. Thence I
penetrated to the tower-room."
"I see, I see. Any one not familiar with the castle will very likely
lose his way, but I advise you to be more careful in future. Melcher
will not suffer any man except myself in his quarters. He is an idiot,
but old as he is his muscles are iron; and if I had not chanced to come
into the courtyard to look after you, you might have had the worst of
it. It was fortunate that I came."
"It was indeed, for the old man and for myself, for I should have been
sorry to do him an injury, and yet I might have been forced into it.
How, sir, can you allow so dangerous a maniac to go at large in the
castle?"
"He is not dangerous; he is a harmless idiot. There is no need to mind
him, except when he is irritated and falls into a rage. Take no notice
of him, and be careful to avoid this part of the castle, and he will
not molest you. Look here, Melcher; this gentleman is my nephew; he
will not come here again; you must let him alone."
With a vacant smile Melcher nodded to his master, and picked up and
laid aside the knife, uttering, as he did so, some unmeaning sounds
which were entirely unintelligible to Leo, but which Herr von Heydeck,
acquainted with the Tyrolean patois, and used to the old man's
indistinct utterance, seemed to understand, for he replied to them,
"That's right, Melcher; only lock the door, and I will see you again by
and by."
Then turning to Leo his uncle continued: "The old fellow is afraid you
will intrude upon him again. Be careful not to do it, for it would
throw him into a rage in which he would be quite capable of murder."
"I am not afraid of him," Leo quietly replied; "but I shall certainly
not provoke him intentionally."
"Promise me that you will never try to open that door into the tower
again," Herr von Heydeck said to his nephew as they passed out into the
court-yard.
"Certainly; your wish is quite sufficient."
"Thank you. Then you will have nothing to fear from old Melcher. You
have had but a sorry reception in Castle Reifenstein, Leo, but I trust
you will forget it and yet feel yourself at home here. Now let us go
directly to Hilda, in the garden."
Leo followed his uncle through the court-yard to the shady
summer-house, where Hilda was awaiting them at the head of a
delicately-spread table. She reproached her cousin laughingly for
spending so long a time over his toilette,--her father had grown so
impatient that he had gone in search of him.
Leo's excuses gave his uncle a pretext for inquiring more closely into
the manner in which he had gone astray, and while Hilda poured out his
coffee, Leo described minutely the way he had taken upon leaving his
room. It appeared that instead of taking the door opening upon the
staircase from the large centre apartment he had left it by one leading
to the wing in which Herr von Heydeck had his study. This simple
explanation entirely banished the mistrust which had been evident in
his uncle's manner. The old man saw clearly that it had been with no
desire to pry, but from accident, that Leo had penetrated into the
hidden recesses of the castle. The frown on his brow disappeared, and
he became genial and cordial.
Hilda listened eagerly to her cousin's account of his error; and when
he told of reaching the deserted tower-room by the narrow passage from
the old kitchen, she was greatly amazed. She had never even heard of
such a room; she had been no farther than into Melcher's kitchen, and
had not gone even there since her return from school, for she could
perfectly remember, as a child, making the old servant very angry by
going once alone into his kitchen and looking about her. Why he should
be so jealous of the solitude of his kitchen, and why he should make
such a mystery of the tower-room, Hilda could not divine.
Herr von Heydeck showed uneasiness at the continuation of the
discussion with regard to Melcher and his tower-room, and he several
times tried to change the subject of conversation; but Hilda's
curiosity was excited, and she would recur to it. She was no less
surprised by Melcher's outburst of insane fury than by the existence
of the tower-room. She had always known the old servant as a
good-humoured, harmless old fellow, ready to fulfil her every wish, and
she asked so many questions about the attack he had made upon Leo, that
her father, after fruitless efforts to change the subject, at last lost
patience.
"Do not tease Leo with any more questions, my dear," he said. "The
disagreeable scene is over; do not let us discuss it further."
"But I cannot imagine, papa, why Melcher, who never does harm to any
one, should attack Leo with such fury just because he found him in his
room."
"Why should we try to imagine the motives that rule the actions of an
idiot?"
"But, papa, you know very well that Melcher is no idiot. He knows
perfectly what to do and what not to do, and he certainly would not
guard this tower-chamber, of which I never heard before, so jealously
if he had not some reason for it."
"Perhaps he hoards his savings there, and is afraid of being robbed;
perhaps he keeps some articles of special value to him hidden there.
Who can tell what fancies he may have in his feeble brain? If he is not
entirely idiotic, he is certainly not a responsible person: he has not
the usual amount of intellect. It would be impossible to conceive of
the workings of his small amount of mind. But indeed we have wasted too
much time upon him. I do not want to hear another word about him. We
have far other things to talk of with our Leo than of old Melcher, and
his deserted tower-chamber with which we certainly have nothing to do."
Hilda could not gainsay so determined an expression of her father's
will; she questioned Leo no further upon the forbidden topic, but
listened attentively to the conversation which her father skilfully led
to the subject which interested him most at the moment. Leo had to give
an account of his life in K----, of his father the old colonel, and of
his friends.
It was a matter of course that Delmar's name occurred frequently in his
discourse.
This was what Herr von Heydeck wanted. For good reasons he was very
anxious for exact intelligence concerning Paul's past life,
intelligence which he could procure nowhere so easily as from Paul's
most intimate friend, and to learn all possible particulars with regard
to Delmar he had given the conversation its present turn.
The old man now had his features under perfect control; his face
betrayed no emotion beyond a justifiable curiosity as he said, "Your
friend interests me; he is very like a man, now dead, with whom I had
relations at a most eventful period of my life. The memory of that time
always agitates me, and therefore the sudden appearance of the young
man was such a shock that I lost my self-control and transgressed the
duties of hospitality. I should like to know whether the resemblance
that so struck me is accidental, or whether your friend is really
distantly connected with my old acquaintance."
"Delmar has no relatives; he is alone in the world."
"But he certainly must once have had relatives. Where was he born and
educated? What are his circumstances? You would oblige me very much if
you would tell me all you know of him, for, as I said, I am greatly
interested in him."
Should Leo comply with this direct request? He called to mind the
expression of intense hatred and of horror with which his uncle had
regarded Paul. The quiet manner in which the old man now questioned him
with regard to his friend's past did not impose upon him; he divined
that the information he asked for had a deeper interest for his uncle
than that excited by a chance resemblance, and yet he saw no reasons
for concealing what he knew about Paul. Therefore he made up his mind
to accede to his uncle's desire. He told all that he knew of his
friend, and as he did so he involuntarily warmed with his topic; his
love for Paul, and the esteem in which he held him, lent glowing
colours to the picture that he drew. He observed with pleasure that not
only did his uncle listen to him with interest, but that Hilda's eyes
sparkled as she leaned forward in eager attention.
Leo had known Delmar from childhood; they had gone to the same school,
and as they were near neighbours at home, they had grown to be
inseparable playfellows, and afterwards loyal friends.
Paul's father had not been a wealthy man in the old schooldays. He had
come to K---- with his only son to invest a small capital in some
business. He lived only for this business, which he established and
conducted with great success. He was so engrossed by it that he had not
much time or attention to bestow upon little Paul, whose mother had
died a few hours after the birth of her child.
Thus the boy, who was full of talent, grew up in his father's house
over which an old housekeeper presided, left entirely to himself, and
his heart would have been fairly starved had he not found in Leo a
faithful friend upon whom he could lavish the tenderest affection.
During his school-life, however, a great change took place in his
circumstances. His father embarked in daring speculations, and they
were successful. Herr Delmar grew rich; the small business he had
founded became the greatest banking establishment in K----. The
merchant's time was more than ever absorbed by the cares of business in
his unceasing efforts to accumulate wealth; he saw his son only at
meal-times.
When Paul passed through his college examinations he devoted himself to
the study of history and philosophy. He had pursued these with ardour
for about a year, when his course of life suddenly changed. The young
student had noticed for some time that his father's manner had been
absent, and his air grave and even depressed; the reason of this was
explained to him in a conversation he held with the head book-keeper of
the banking-house. It appeared that Herr Delmar, with unequalled
daring, had, in the hope of doubling his wealth, embarked in a giant
speculation, involving not only his every penny, but also all the
credit that he possessed. If it was unsuccessful complete ruin was
unavoidable, and at present affairs looked gloomy. The money market was
uncertain; the credit of the house was shaken. Herr Delmar was
anxiously awaiting what the future might bring forth.
One day, as the banker was sitting, silent as usual, opposite his son
at the dinner-table, letters were brought to him so unfavourable in
their contents that he broke the silence to say to his son, with a
glance of irritation, "If you had turned your attention to business
instead of studying philosophy and such stuff, you might now have been
of some service to me!" He made no further remark, but arose from
table, leaving his untouched dinner, and shut himself up in his office.
The next morning when the office opened, Paul was standing behind a
desk,--he had applied himself to his father's business, and he then
received from Herr Delmar the first look and smile of affection that he
could remember in his life.
The young man was endowed with so keen an intellect, so excellent a
memory, and such power of ready comprehension, that he soon mastered
the difficulties of a commercial career. Under the skilful tuition of
the head book-keeper he soon became an admirable business man, and
when, a few weeks later, his father, oppressed with care, was stricken
down by illness, he was perfectly capable of conducting his affairs,
with the assistance of the faithful book-keeper.
This time of trial developed all the strength and intellectual vigour
of Paul's character. Under his prudent but brilliant direction the
great banking-house passed successfully through the dangerous crisis.
As bold, but not as venturous, as his father, he avoided all too daring
speculations: he established the business upon a firm basis; and when
Herr Delmar, though only half convalescent, was driven by anxiety to
leave his bed for his office, he found, to his astonishment, that all
peril was past. The great banking-house had emerged from the crisis
with greater wealth and firmer credit than ever.
But Herr Delmar had left his bed too soon. A relapse was the
consequence: recovery was impossible; although too feeble to take any
part in the conduct of his affairs, he lived on confined to his couch
for three years longer. At the end of this time, in the midst of a
night of intense suffering, he felt that his last hour was at hand. He
had Paul awakened and summoned to his bedside. He was in entire
possession of his faculties; his long illness had been powerless to
weaken his vigorous intellect and the conviction that he was dying
never for a moment disturbed the repose of his mind.
He smiled affectionately at Paul when he entered the room, and replied
to his inquiries by a cordial pressure of the hand. "I sent for you,"
he said, in a failing voice, "because I know I shall not live until
morning. I want to thank you for the filial affection you have always
shown me. To you I owe all that I possess; through you I have been
enabled to establish my house; your unselfish devotion preserved my
wealth for me when my previous good fortune threatened to leave me.
Your care and prudence have tripled my property during these years of
sickness when I have been unable to attend to business, and it is no
more than just and right that you should be the only heir to the
fortune you have so contributed to make. There is no one in the world
with any just claim upon my estate. While I was poor my distant
relatives took no notice of me, and since I have grown rich I have
treated them in the same manner. You alone therefore, my dear Paul,
will inherit my property, and with my lawyer's help, I have made a will
to confirm you in the possession of your inheritance if any
unjustifiable claims should be made upon my estate.
"I see that you do not comprehend why a will should be necessary when,
as my only son, you are legally my only heir. I could explain this to
you, but I beg you not to require me to do so. You have always honoured
and loved me as a father should be honoured and loved by a son. I thank
you for it from my very soul, and my last wish is that you should
retain the same affection for my memory."
Paul would indeed have liked some explanation of his father's strange
words, but he did not venture to ask for them, and a few more words of
gratitude for this forbearance were the last uttered by the dying man.
He soon after fell asleep with a smile upon his pale lips, and did not
wake again.
The day after his father's death Paul received a visit from one of the
best-known lawyers in K----, who came to read to him the will which he
had drawn up a year before at Herr Delmar's desire. To Paul's
disappointment it contained no explanation of his father's last words,
but on the contrary surprised all who were present at the opening. In
the introduction to the will Herr Delmar stated that Paul had always
performed all the duties of a son with the greatest self-forgetfulness;
that the maintenance and increase of his business were owing to the
young man's skill and devotion; and that therefore, and not because he
was his son, the testator declared him his sole heir. At the close of
the will Herr Delmar expressly mentioned that he left behind him no
relatives legally entitled to any portion of his estate or who could
have the slightest claim upon Paul.
The singular wording of the testament caused considerable talk in legal
circles in K----, and the lawyer who had drawn it up was of course
applied to by many people, and indeed by Paul himself, for an
explanation, but he assured every one that he knew nothing; he had
strictly followed Herr Delmar's instructions in drawing up the will,
the wording of which was the testator's own.
Why Herr Delmar should have taken such pains to secure his property to
a son who was legally his heir remained a mystery, since no one
appeared to put forward any claim to the young man's inheritance.
Thus Paul entered into undisputed possession of his father's immense
wealth. There was no longer any reason for his continuing to carry on a
business, in which he had never had the least interest, merely to
accumulate money. To the surprise of every one on 'Change, he disposed
of the entire business to a stock company at a very reasonable price,
and invested his capital in safe government securities, in bonds,
mortgages, and real estate. This done, he devoted all his energies to
scientific research.
He lived in K---- the life of a man of wealth. He filled his
magnificent villa with the finest paintings and statuary, and spent
enormous sums upon his library. The greater part of his income,
however, was expended in satisfying what he called his egotism,--his
love of self,--which prompted him to purchase whenever he could the
pleasure of assisting the poor in the quietest manner possible.
"And as an egotist to whom no sacrifice seems great in the interest of
a friend,--whose aid is always ready whenever aid is necessary,--Paul
Delmar lives in K----, where every one who knows him loves and respects
him. I am proud that he honours me with his friendship." Thus Leo
concluded his account of his friend.
Herr von Heydeck had listened to every word, and when his nephew had
finished he nodded in approval; his face wore a very different
expression from that which had animated it while he was questioning Leo
with regard to Paul. He even smiled quite gayly. "Your friend seems to
be an admirable fellow," he said. "I am very glad, doubly so, for I
think I have some reason for special interest in him. I will tell you
about it hereafter. Very rich you say he is,--a millionaire, eh?"
"I do not know the amount of his wealth; he never speaks of it, and
seems to value it but little. In K---- he is said to be worth four
million thalers at least. He is the wealthiest man there."
"Four millions!" exclaimed Herr von Heydeck. "That is enormous! I had
no idea of it! Four millions! Then he certainly does not need any more.
He would not care for a few hundred thousand guilders, and therefore
will not----"
Herr von Heydeck suddenly paused and cast a timid glance at Leo, who
looked inquiringly at him expecting the end of his remark. The old man
did not finish it, but arose and, half turning away, said without
meeting Leo's eyes, "But what nonsense I am talking! What is this Paul
Delmar to me? He is your friend, and as such shall be a welcome guest
at the castle; but don't ask me to interest myself about him. I am an
old man, often ill, and unaccustomed to social intercourse. My head
aches if I converse for any length of time, and then I grow very
confused. That is why I receive no visitors. My head aches to-day. You
must forgive me if I retire to my room. To-morrow we will talk more
together; to-day I must leave you to Hilda. Good-evening."
He waited for no reply, but nodded to Leo without looking at him, and
left the summer-house. Passing quickly through the garden, he was soon
lost to sight among the shrubbery.