Dr. Putzer yawned and stretched his huge limbs as he left Herwarth's
room and the door was closed behind him. In a sick-room and in
intercourse with strangers he was a different man from the Dr. Putzer
of private life. Towards a patient and with those whose rank in life
was superior to his own and with whom he had not yet become familiar,
he displayed a gentle courtesy which was entirely foreign to his usual
manner, and which was quite attractive. Whenever he pleased he could
thus assume the air and bearing of a man of refinement and culture; but
as soon as he was left to himself, or to his daily associates, he threw
off all such self-restraint and took no pains to conceal his innate
coarseness of nature.
He descended the stairs, which creaked beneath his heavy tread, and
opening the door of the parlour, called, in thundering tones, "Nannerl!
Where the deuce is the lazy hussy! A half-measure of red!" he added, as
the maid came hurrying from the kitchen. "And send the landlord here. I
have something to say to him."
As he finished he pinched the girl's red cheek with an ugly leer
and laughed coarsely as she recoiled from his familiarity. Then
turning into the parlour he settled himself comfortably in his usual
position,--leaning back in one of the large strong chairs, with his
feet on another of them.
Nannerl soon appeared with the wine, which she placed upon the table,
carefully avoiding, as she did so, any contact with the man whose
coarse familiarity she dreaded.
While she was thus setting out the wine Hansel entered the room, and
observing her annoyance, said angrily, "Let Nannerl alone, Herr Doctor;
your old head ought to teach you better than to tease a poor girl."
The doctor was not at all offended by the rough rebuke, but with a
laugh, offered a glass of wine to the postmaster. "That's right.
Hansel," he said. "Keep strict watch over your maid's virtue. Take a
sip to cool your anger, and then we'll have a gossip. Fine doings here.
Hansel! Two four-horse carriages have not been seen together for many a
year in Tausens; and a couple of strangers into the bargain. I have
just left one of them, who has sprained his ankle."
"I know it. Herr Delmar asked me where you lived."
"Exactly; Herr Delmar came for me. Do you know Herr Delmar? where he
comes from? who he is?"
"No, I don't, but I know his face, although I can't remember where I
have seen it."
"Do you remember Count Menotti, Hansel?"
Scarcely had the doctor uttered this name when Hansel struck the table
with his fist and exclaimed, "That's the man! The Count Menotti! Yes,
yes; just so he looked with his black eyes and yellow face! Now I see!
He may call himself Delmar if he will; he's a Count Menotti for all
that. That's why he wanted me to tell him all those old stories,--about
Herr von Heydeck, and his first wife, and Count Menotti, and the child
that died of smallpox."
The doctor suddenly started from his reclining posture and frowned
furiously at the postmaster. "And you told him all that, you cursed old
blab!" he exclaimed angrily.
"It's no secret. Herr Delmar may as well know what everybody else
knows," Hansel replied stoutly.
The doctor's wrath was not at all appeased, but he made an effort to
control any further expression of it, and rejoined, "True, Hansel, it
is no secret, but where's the use of raking up such old forgotten
tales? Well, it can't be helped,--only I should really like to know
what you did tell him."
The postmaster was not perfectly comfortable at this request. When he
called to mind his long conversation with the strangers, and the
extraordinary eagerness that Herr Delmar had shown in inducing him to
tell all that he knew of the life at the castle and of Herr von
Heydeck, he could not help thinking that the stranger who was so very
like Count Menotti had cross-examined him very skilfully, and the
doctor's request strengthened him in this conviction.
Why had the doctor been so vexed to learn that Hansel had told of Herr
von Heydeck's dead child? Try as he would to seem composed the Herr
Doctor could not conceal his agitation. He was evidently afraid that
the postmaster had told too much, and honest Hansel began to share this
fear himself.
The poor fellow found himself in a very disagreeable situation; if he
refused to tell what he had told the strangers, the doctor would
suspect matters of being worse than they really were, and yet if he
informed him of all that he had said, matters were bad enough, for he
had told enough to make the doctor his bitter enemy. It was very hard
to give the right answer, but something must be done, and Hansel did
his best, extricating himself from his dilemma with greater cunning
than would have been thought possible for him. He told the doctor
faithfully of all he had said to Herr Delmar about Herr von Heydeck,
the life at the castle, about the first mistress, and her relations
with Count Menotti. He reported also that he had spoken of the report
that Herr von Heydeck was by no means sorry for his child's death, but
he never hinted that he had once made mention in the narrative of the
doctor or his wife.
Hansel had the reputation in Tausens of being so honest and
simple-minded a fellow that it never occurred to the doctor to doubt
his frankness, and his mind was set at rest with regard to the extent
of Hansel's revelations; not so, however, as to the stranger's motive
in questioning the postmaster. It could not, the doctor was convinced,
have been ordinary curiosity.
What could have interested the strangers in Herr von Heydeck? Delmar's
striking resemblance to Count Menotti could be no mere chance freak of
nature. Such resemblances between strangers in blood do occur, it is
true, but they are very exceptional, and Delmar's curiosity regarding
matters connected with Castle Reifenstein showed plainly that this was
not one of the exceptions.
But if Delmar were related to Count Menotti, and had not come by chance
to Tausens, what could he want there?
A sudden suspicion flashed upon the doctor's mind, but he rejected it
immediately,--it was so wild and improbable; still, Delmar's presence
made him excessively uncomfortable. To conceal this discomfort from the
postmaster, he talked and drank incessantly. The measure of wine was
emptied and refilled several times, while the doctor's bloated face
grew redder and redder, his eyes more watery, and his speech thicker.
He tried to learn more of the strangers from Hansel, but in vain; the
postmaster knew nothing of them except what he had heard from their
guides from the Zillerthal, and this he freely imparted without in the
least satisfying the other's curiosity. In his good humour the
innkeeper was recounting every particular for the fourth time, although
he could not conceive what interest it could have for the doctor, when
he was interrupted by a message from the doctor's wife.
A servant reported that her mistress was very much annoyed that the
doctor was staying so long from home, and that she begged he would
return thither immediately, since a message from the castle was
awaiting him.
The doctor started up and, pouring down a last glassful of wine, set
out for his home, but his progress thitherward was not of the swiftest,
for his gait was unsteady and his head was confused,--he could not
collect his senses when he tried to divine whether this message from
the castle had any connection with Herr Delmar's arrival at Tausens.
The doctor's wife awaited her husband in the arbour, where she had been
ever since his departure. She was standing at the entrance looking out
for him; but as she saw him approach with a heavy, unsteady gait, she
received him with anything but a smile of welcome, and the words,
spoken in a tone of profound contempt, "The brute is drunk again!"
The doctor was perhaps not entirely unaccustomed to such tender
addresses, at all events he did not resent her words, but replied quite
humbly, "No, Rosy dear, sober,--perfectly sober,--s'help me God," the
thickness of his utterance belying his words.
His wife took no notice of his reply, but, with the expression of
contempt upon her face intensified, she ordered him harshly, "Go to the
brook this instant, and when you are fit to hear it I have a message
for you."
The doctor ventured no word of remonstrance; with wavering steps
he went towards the spot where, to the left of the arbour, a
mountain-brook was pouring through a hollow tree into a stone basin in
the grass. He held his hot hand under the icy stream and hesitated for
a moment, but at the sound of a sharp 'make haste' from the arbour he
delayed no longer, but stooped and let the water pour over his head.
His breath came in quick, loud pants, his face grew dark purple in hue,
and his limbs trembled,--it was a hard ordeal, but he bore the shock
bravely, and let the icy water stream over his brow and temples for
several minutes. Then he stood erect, and shaking his dishevelled shock
of hair like a dog emerging from the water, dried his face with his
cotton pocket-handkerchief, and went back to his affectionate wife in
the arbour. The cold bath had produced its effect,--his gait was
steadier and his head clearer.
"Are you sober enough now to understand what is said to you?"
"Sober enough; but I shall have a stroke one of these days."
"Drink less then, and you will not have to resort to such violent
measures to make yourself sober. You are to go to the castle. Herr von
Heydeck has sent for you."
"I am not his slave; let him wait."
"You'd better go to the brook again,--you can't be sober yet."
"I am sober, I tell you; but I can't see why I should always dance to
his piping. Let him come to me if he wants to talk with me."
"You'll never be anything but a blockhead in spite of all your
book-learning. Don't you see that we must keep straight with the old
man? We are all in the same danger, and must stand together."
"What danger?"
"What danger, stupid? Have you no grain of understanding? Don't you
know who this man is who calls himself Delmar, and what he wants here
in Tausens? You recognized him at once as the son of Count Menotti!"
"Yes; but I can't for the life of me see----"
"Of course not,--but I can tell you! He is the son of Count Menotti and
the noble Frau von Heydeck, the heir of Castle Reifenstein, and he has
come for his inheritance!"
His wife's words did not surprise the doctor; the same idea had
occurred to him, but he had rejected it as impossible. Now the uttered
words gave it distinct form in his mind, and he began to yield it
credence. "I thought of that," he said, reflectively; "but it is
impossible. The boy died long since."
"The old fellow invented that tale for us. Rely upon it he is alive,
and has come to claim his own. It is for this the old man wishes to see
you, and you must go to him, but take care what you say. You must make
him confess that he lied to us. You must threaten him,--you can do
anything with such a coward. But you must not break with him, for we
are all alike in danger. You wrote the certificate of death,--the man
will revenge himself upon you as well as upon the old scoundrel at the
castle. Try to get as much money as you can out of the old fellow. If
the worst comes to the worst we must leave Tausens,--I have no mind to
end my days in a jail."
"It wouldn't be as bad as that."
"It would be bad enough. That man will have no pity for us. I saw that
in his bold black eyes. And you in your stupidity made matters as
desperate as you could by letting him see that you recognized him at
once."
"I was so startled----"
"That's no excuse. But that's over, and we can't help it; we must do as
well as we can. If you are really sober, go immediately to the castle.
Speak as little as possible, and get all that you can out of the old
man's cowardice. I wish I were going in your stead, for it's likely
you'll spoil all. Now go!"
The doctor's wife thus dismissed her liege lord, who did as he was
bidden, although he had but little inclination at present for an
interview with Herr von Heydeck. The fumes of the wine he had drunk
were still clouding his intellect; he could not collect his thoughts as
he wished, and the way to the castle was long and steep.
The warm July day had hardly grown cooler at its close. The sun, it is
true, had already set behind the mountains, but the air of the valley
was heavy and sultry, and made every step a weariness to Dr. Putzer's
massive frame.
He was frequently obliged to rest while on the way, and heat and
fatigue combined to increase his irritation against the lord of the
castle. When at last he gained the bridge leading across the chasm, old
Melcher met him, and in the broken babble which few could understand,
but which was perfectly intelligible to the doctor's accustomed ears,
gave him to understand that his master had been impatiently awaiting
him for more than an hour.
A savage oath was the doctor's only reply, but he hastened his steps,
and passed directly across the court-yard to Melcher's quarters. He
well knew the most direct way to Herr von Heydeck's study; he had been
familiar enough with it in years long gone by. By the winding staircase
from Melcher's room he mounted to the master's study, which he entered
without knocking.
"Here you are at last!" the lord of the castle exclaimed. He had been
pacing the room to and fro for a long while in extreme impatience.
"Could you not come sooner? I sent for you more than two hours ago!"
The imperious tone in which Herr von Heydeck spoke irritated the doctor
still more deeply. "Am I your slave?" he asked angrily. "I ought not to
have come at all in obedience to a command which should have been a
request. A pretty reception you give me! I've more than half a mind to
turn round and go home again."
These words, spoken in a coarse, loud voice, had a strange effect upon
Herr von Heydeck. He recoiled timidly from the angry man; his wrinkled
features twitched nervously, and it was not until he had moved, so as
to place the heavy round table, covered with books, between himself and
his visitor, that he said in a changed and gentle tone, "You need not
be offended, doctor. I did not mean to be cross. You must not take it
amiss that I am a little impatient. I have waited more than an hour,
and have very important matters to discuss with you. Pray be seated."
The doctor threw himself into an arm-chair, that creaked in every joint
with his weight. "I know what you want," he said sullenly; "but get me
some wine first. My tongue fairly rattles in my mouth."
Herr von Heydeck rang a bell, and old Melcher, who answered the
summons, was sent for 'a measure of red' for the doctor. When it was
placed upon the table, Putzer poured out a glassful, emptied it at a
draught, and then, after settling himself comfortably in his chair,
said, "Now I am ready to listen. What do you want of me?"
Herr von Heydeck did not reply. He had waited for the doctor with the
greatest impatience, but now that he had come he could not find words
in which to tell him of what was weighing upon his mind. Startled and
terrified by Delmar's appearance at Castle Reifenstein, Leo's narrative
had banished his fears but for a short time. As soon as he was alone in
his room they returned to torture him. While he gazed into his nephew's
frank, honest eyes, he gave him full credence, but when left to himself
to review the dark past, he was haunted by suspicion lest other reasons
besides friendship for Leo had brought Delmar hither. He felt himself
suddenly menaced by a peril which he had indeed dreaded many years
before, but which had long since ceased to trouble him.
What should he do to avert disaster? He was helpless; a terrible future
was present to his excited imagination. He saw himself driven forth a
dishonoured beggar from the castle which he had for so long considered
his own; saw the gates of a prison open to receive him, condemned to a
disgraceful punishment for a deed which he hoped and believed had been
buried in oblivion.
And there was no one to aid him in this extremity! Suddenly he thought
of Putzer, the accomplice in his schemes,--the man who must suffer with
himself if their secret was discovered,--and he despatched a messenger
to Tausens to require his immediate presence at the castle. The doctor
alone could advise and assist him. But now, when the man sat opposite
to him, and he looked into the bloated face, the leering, watery eyes,
he lost all hope of any support or aid from such a source, and
hesitated to ask him for advice, since in doing so he must confess that
for years he had deceived him.
The doctor waited for a while in vain expectation that Herr von Heydeck
would begin what he had to say. He divined what was passing in the old
man's mind, and inwardly exulted in the terror and embarrassment
plainly to be seen in his face. At last however he grew weary of
waiting, and bringing his fist down heavily upon the table, exclaimed
with brutal violence, "Well! are you going to speak or not? Did you
send for me to come here to be stared at? Tell me what you want of me."
The doctor knew perfectly well that it was only by brutal violence of
manner that anything could be done with Herr von Heydeck. Smooth words
had no effect upon him; but every violent gesture, every menacing word,
inspired him with fear, and fear made him docile. Cowardice was Herr
von Heydeck's distinguishing characteristic, and influenced all his
actions.
Thus the doctor's angry words did not now fail of their effect Herr von
Heydeck moved uneasily. "Why should you be so violent, doctor?" he
asked timidly. "I did not mean to offend you. I was only thinking how
best to put into words the important intelligence I have to
communicate."
"Have you not had time enough for that? If you are puzzling your brains
with the invention of fresh lies with which to impose upon me, you may
spare yourself the trouble. Do you suppose I don't know that you have
sent for me because you are afraid of this Herr Delmar?"
"How?--You know?" Herr von Heydeck asked, his anxiety increasing with
every word uttered by Putzer.
"I know more than you care to tell me. You are afraid of this fellow;
and well you may be, for he knows what he wants. Have you seen him?"
"Yes."
"Then there's no need to warn you. One look into his black eyes will
tell you that you've no mercy to look for there. I don't know whether I
can help you. You deceived me and lied to me; you told me your son had
died in Switzerland!"
"My son!" Herr von Heydeck exclaimed indignantly. "You know perfectly
well----"
"Well then, your wife's son. What is that to me? You needn't look so
furious,--I'm not afraid of you. Your cunning has overreached itself,
that's all. If you had been honest and open with me you would have had
nothing to fear now. I could have settled the boy so that you would
never have heard from him again."
"Perhaps that would have been best," Herr von Heydeck said humbly; "but
I could not make up my mind to it then, nor could I now. I hated the
boy whose undeniable resemblance to his father was a constant disgrace
to my name. My dearest wish was for his death, but by natural means,
not by poisonous drugs. If I had left him to you, as you advised, I
should never have had another peaceful moment. Murder!--the very sound
of the word freezes the blood in my veins! I should have been frenzied
by the thought that I had permitted the deed, even although I had not
caused it to be done."
"Who talks of murder? I forbid all such expressions as far as I am
concerned," the doctor rejoined angrily. "Do you imagine that to make
you a rich man I would have stained my soul with blood and put my neck
into a noose?"
"But you offered the first time I spoke to you of the boy----"
"I offered nothing except to relieve you from all anxiety. And that I
would have done if, after I had made out the certificate of the child's
death, you would have handed him over to me instead of keeping him here
in the basement of the tower, in care of Melcher, for a year, and then
carrying him off yourself. What is done should be done thoroughly. But
you are a coward, too timid to act decidedly. You were afraid of me,
and so you cheated me with the story that the boy died a year after you
had put him to board in Switzerland. Now, when he suddenly appears here
to claim his rights, you are trembling again in terror."
"He has really come then to claim his rights? Oh, what do you know
about him, doctor?" cried Herr von Heydeck, wringing his hands.
The doctor gazed with a scornful smile at the despair of the old man,
whom fear seemed to deprive of the capacity for thought. Putzer felt
vastly superior,--his blood was quickened by the wine, his pulses
throbbed feverishly, but his brain had regained more than its wonted
clearness. He had suddenly and advisedly uttered as fact what was only
suspicion, and thus won from Herr von Heydeck an indirect confession;
but this was not enough,--he must know the whole truth, and he was sure
that he could extort it by increasing to the uttermost the coward's
terror.
"Time enough by and by to tell what I know about Herr Delmar, as he
calls himself," Putzer continued. "You will find to your cost that I
know more than you ever meant I should. Perhaps I can devise a means of
getting you out of the scrape, although your affairs do look black
enough; but not one step will I take in the matter, rely upon it,
unless you treat me with entire frankness. You must tell me exactly
what you did with the boy, where you put him to board, and everything
else that you know of him."
"But if you know all about it----"
"That is no affair of yours. I want to hear it from you, and I advise
you not to try to deceive me. I have already meditated whether to offer
my services to Herr Delmar or to stick to you. If you lie to me you
will force me for my own sake to go over to the enemy's camp, and you
know best what that means!"
"For the love of heaven, doctor, you would not betray me?"
"Not unless you force me to it by lies or concealment. Come, begin!
Tell me all that you know of this Herr Delmar, from the moment when I
saw the boy for the last time until the present day."
Herr von Heydeck sprang up from his seat and paced the room to and fro
in the wildest distress. He tried to reflect, to come to some
determination, but his mind was confused; the doctor's threat had so
terrified him that he could think of nothing but the wretched
consequences of such a betrayal, and he lost sight of the fact that his
guilty accomplice had an equal interest with himself in preserving his
secret.
The doctor allowed him no time for reflection. "Will you do as I say,
or not?" he asked roughly. And his threatening manner was, as ever,
effectual.
Incapable of further resistance, the old man again sank into his
arm-chair, and, in the fear of offending the doctor by suppressing some
fact that he might have learned from other sources, gave him the full
and circumstantial account that he demanded.
After Herr von Heydeck had, with the help of the doctor and of the
woman who afterwards became Frau Putzer, established the fact of the
death of the child of his late wife by means of the mock funeral and
the false certificate of death, he kept the boy, whom he loathed doubly
as the child of Count Menotti and as the obstacle to his own fortune,
in the basement of the old tower, tended by Melcher and his half-idiot
sister. Herr von Heydeck never saw it, but, as he sat in his study at
night, he could frequently hear its cries, and they not only awakened
in him the stings of conscience, but tortured him with the dread lest,
if heard by other ears, they should lead to detection and punishment.
The false certificate of death had given him all the wealth that should
have been the child's.
Again and again the doctor's offer to rid him forever of the detested
infant recurred to him, but he recoiled from a crime that seemed to him
far more odious than the child's concealment.
Thus a year passed amid pangs unspeakable for the lord of the castle.
He had cherished a secret hope that the child would not live long in
the gloomy tower, but this hope was blighted by Melcher's account of
the boy's thriving condition. He was almost in despair. He had not
sufficient courage for a fresh crime; and yet it would be impossible to
keep a growing child in the basement of the tower much longer without
discovery. His cries had already been heard by the villagers in the
silence of night, but superstition had lent its aid to protect the
guilty.
"The devil is at his pranks again in the castle," the peasants in
Tausens would say, and they avoided the haunted tower as far as was
possible,--crossing themselves with a muttered prayer if they were ever
near enough to it to hear any inexplicable sounds.
Thus far their superstition had shielded Herr von Heydeck; but who
could say when some man, more courageous than his fellows, might not
attempt to explore the source whence the ghostly cries proceeded? And
then? Why, then discovery, disgrace, and misery were the inevitable
consequences.
The wretched man had almost made up his mind to have recourse once more
to the doctor's aid, when chance pointed a way of release for him. He
saw an advertisement in a paper offering a child for adoption. An
unnatural mother, pleading extreme poverty, appealed to the compassion
of any generous individual who would adopt her child, and consented, if
any such were found, to relinquish all her maternal rights.
As Heydeck read he thought of the hidden child. If this woman had been
successful in only appealing to human compassion, could he not be far
more sure of success in invoking the aid of man's cupidity? And he
devised the scheme which he proceeded to carry into execution.
He put an advertisement in a Berlin newspaper offering a sum of ten
thousand thalers to any one who would adopt an orphan boy and so
educate him as his own that the child should never learn that he was
not the genuine offspring of his adopted parent.
He used every caution with regard to this advertisement. He went to
Berlin, and there, under an assumed name, he himself received all the
answers to his offer,--destroying them after he had read them.
Among these one seemed especially desirable. A merchant by the name of
Delmar, residing in a distant provincial town, declared himself ready
to take the boy. He wrote that he had had the misfortune a short time
before to lose his wife and only child, Paul. The care of another child
would soothe his grief, and by a judicious outlay of the promised
capital he trusted he might insure the boy's future welfare.
That this letter seemed less than the rest the result of greed of gain
would hardly alone have decided Heydeck to accept it as the answer to
his offer, but he was also moved thereto by the consideration that it
came from a small provincial town so distant from the Tyrol that it
could never have had the slightest cognizance of Castle Reifenstein.
Herr von Heydeck went to H----, and made inquiries at the inn there
concerning the man who had written to him. The intelligence that he
received was satisfactory. Delmar was a small tradesman, living very
quietly, but with an excellent reputation. He was a solid, sensible
man, but had been very unfortunate. He had not only lost his wife and
only child, but the bankruptcy of a large Berlin house had so
imperilled his business that his townsfolk were afraid he would be
obliged to dispose of his stock in trade to satisfy his creditors.
After learning these particulars, Herr von Heydeck called upon Delmar.
He introduced himself as a Herr Steineck, commissioned by a lady of
rank to provide for her illegitimate child. If Herr Delmar would bind
himself never to inquire after the child's parents, but to bring him up
as his own son, giving him his own name,--if further, in order that the
boy might never learn from strangers that he was an adopted child, he
would consent to leave H---- and establish himself in another place,
whither he could take the child as his son Paul, the boy should be
immediately handed over to him and also the ten thousand thalers.
Delmar gladly acceded to all these conditions. He promised to leave his
present place of abode, which was full of sad memories for him, to sell
his business and go to some other German town, where he hoped to invest
the ten thousand thalers with success, and where he might make use of
his dead child's baptismal certificate to legitimate his adopted son,
so that no one could have the slightest cause for suspicion that he was
not really and truly his son.
Delmar and Steineck were thus soon agreed; the latter paid down a
thousand thalers for a retainer as it were, and it was settled that
Delmar should immediately proceed to close up his affairs in H----, and
should inform Steineck when he was ready to move elsewhere by an
advertisement in a certain Berlin newspaper. It was made a principal
condition of their agreement that Delmar should never make the
slightest attempt to discover Steineck's place of residence.
A month later Herr von Heydeck read in the Berlin paper that Delmar was
ready to receive the child. To effect the infant's removal was the
hardest part of Heydeck's task. He would admit no one to his confidence
in the matter; neither Dr. Putzer nor his wife should know whither the
child was taken; thus only could the secret remain such forever.
Late in the evening Heydeck left the castle in his carriage, driven by
Melcher; the boy had been drugged, and was in deep slumber. The
Bavarian town of Rosenheim was selected by Delmar as the place where
the child was to be delivered up to him.
All went well: Delmar was on the spot, and received the boy with the
promised sum of money. He immediately departed for Munich, and Herr von
Heydeck returned to the Tyrol, firmly convinced that Delmar had no idea
who had delivered the child to him.
Six months later he informed Dr. Putzer that he had placed the child in
an establishment in Switzerland, where it had died of the measles. As
there was no reason to doubt this, Putzer made no further
investigations in the matter: indeed, any such would have been useless,
so perfect had been Herr von Heydeck's precautions.
Thus everything seemed happily concluded. Herr von Heydeck had no
treachery to fear, for Dr. Putzer and his wife had as much to dread
from discovery as he had himself, and Melcher and his sister, if they
had been capable of understanding matters, were entirely dependent upon
their master, to whom they clung with slavish devotion.
And yet Herr von Heydeck was not content. The phantom of possible
discovery pursued him awake and in dreams. In vain he repeated to
himself that he had nothing to fear, that there was no flaw in the
precautions he had taken; he could not banish the dread lest his sin
should one day find him out.
Become more misanthropic than ever, he secluded himself from all human
companionship, and if he had not been obliged to visit the baths every
year for the sake of his health, he never would have left Castle
Reifenstein.
But when years passed by and nothing was heard further of the boy, when
he married again and enjoyed a happiness of which he had never dreamed,
he became reassured. The dreadful dreams in which he saw his secret
discovered and himself about to receive the punishment of his crime,
tortured him no longer; he had even felt perfectly secure for years,
when suddenly he had been startled out of this security by the
appearance at the castle of his nephew's companion.
His fears had become reality. It was impossible that the dreaded
stranger could have any motive but revenge and the recovery of his
property. Leo's information that his friend was a millionaire, and had
accompanied him to the Tyrol solely out of friendship for him, had
satisfied Herr von Heydeck but for a few moments,--the more he pondered
this information the more improbable did it seem to him. He could not
believe that this meeting was due solely to accident.
Therefore he had in this moment of supreme peril sent for Dr. Putzer,
as the only living being to whom he could look for aid and advice, and
therefore, a prey to torturing anxiety, he made his long confession
with the greatest minuteness, interrupted but rarely by a question from
his listener.
While he gave his utmost attention to these revelations, the idea which
he had thrown out just before, simply to intimidate Herr von Heydeck,
recurred to Dr. Putzer's mind. He too was now more than ever convinced
that Paul Delmar was aware of his parentage and of the right which he
possessed to all that Herr von Heydeck possessed, and that he had come
to Tausens to assert this right. But if this were the case, what the
millionaire coveted was certainly not the possession of an old castle
and some hundred thousand guilders which he could not possibly need,
but the ancient noble name and title, upon which the plebeian merchant
would of course place the greatest value.
Now this was just what Herr von Heydeck had the right to withhold from
his opponent. The doctor knew perfectly well that, in view of the
proofs which Heydeck could adduce, no court in Germany could force him
to give his name to his wife's illegitimate child. Delmar's right to
his mother's property was indisputable, but he had none whatever to the
name and title of a Herr von Heydeck. If he coveted this, he must be
reconciled to Herr von Heydeck, in which case he would no longer be
dangerous, but would doubtless be willing richly to reward the man who
should help him to the fulfilment of his desires.
And this man the doctor would be. In imagination he saw a shining
stream of gold flowing from the millionaire's money-bags into his own
open pockets, for such a lavish young Cr[oe]sus was a very different
customer from miserly old Herr von Heydeck, from whom it had been
difficult, latterly, to extort even as much as sufficed to pay the
doctor's wine-bill.
He would ally himself with Paul Delmar: his safety as well as his
advantage required it; he was not yet quite clear as to how this
alliance was to be most advantageously concluded; he would see about
all that later, when his head should be a little clearer. Now he must
take great care lest Herr von Heydeck should suspect his scheme. Its
success was perhaps dependent upon the old man's placing implicit
confidence in him.
When the doctor was busy thinking he was fond of refreshing himself
with a glass of wine; therefore, while Herr von Heydeck was making his
revelations, he had frequent recourse to the bottle, which, when the
narrator had come to an end, was nearly emptied, while the listener's
good humour had so increased that he found it difficult to restrain the
expression of it. "'Tis a confounded queer story, and you are in for
it," he said, at last. "This Delmar is a devil of a fellow; he'll make
you squeak. I should like to know where the deuce he heard it all. You
say you took every precaution."
"I cannot understand it: I thought I was perfectly safe," Heydeck
replied despairingly.
"You must have done something stupid; what it was the devil only knows;
but you're in for it now; the fellow will pull the house down about
your ears!"
This expression seemed to the doctor so eminently fitted to the
occasion that he burst into a coarse laugh, which so irritated Herr von
Heydeck that he started up, exclaiming, "What are you laughing at? I
should think matters looked grave enough! I ask you for counsel, not
for idiotic laughter----"
This angry outbreak only increased the doctor's tipsy merriment.
"You're a wonderfully fine old fellow!" he said, vainly trying to
steady his voice. "But, still, you're an old coward, afraid of your own
shadow, and a skinflint into the bargain! But never mind, we're the
best of friends, and I'll stand by you in this matter with your wife's
son. He shall not hurt you, depend upon me. But we'll have no more of
the stupid old story to-day: we'll drink and be merry. Take a glass,
you old sinner; come, and don't put such a d----d wry face on the
matter."
He held out to Herr von Heydeck a glass of wine as he spoke, but the
old man rejected it angrily. He had been so absorbed by interest in his
own narrative that he had not until this moment noticed the condition
of his listener. What advice or aid could he look for from this sot?
"You are drunk again," he said with contempt. "Go home and sleep it
off!"
This was just what the doctor desired. He knew that his brain was
confused, and that he was not in a condition to talk without betraying
his secret intentions; therefore he had feigned to be more drunk than
he really was, hoping thus to end the conversation for to-day. "You may
be right, old Solomon!" he exclaimed, with a loud laugh. "I am a little
cloudy, and a nap can do me no harm. I'll come again tomorrow and have
another talk. Sleep in peace; you need not be afraid; you and I are
more than a match for the young fellow!"
He arose, and although he knew he had already drunk too much, he could
not withstand the temptation of the glass that was standing filled upon
the table, but emptied it before he turned towards the door. Then,
nodding a familiar farewell to Herr von Heydeck, who took no notice of
it, he left the room by the same door by which he had entered. When he
reached Melcher's apartment he thought his head felt less confused and
that his gait was sufficiently steady to justify his refusing the old
man's proffered guidance down the mountain, and accordingly he left the
castle alone.
As he reached the court-yard a cool breeze was blowing down the valley
from the snow-mountains in the north, and by the time he had crossed
the bridge the wine had produced its full effect upon him. So far from
being able to reflect upon the best way in which to carry out his
schemes, he needed all the mind he could muster to provide for his
safety in descending the mountain. His capacity for thought was not
quite destroyed, although his brain was thoroughly bewildered.