QUIET WEEKS.
The first eventful days which I passed in Luttach were followed by
weeks that were more serene. Favoured by the beautiful weather, I made
daily excursions in every direction, reaping a rich harvest everywhere.
I grew more and more familiar with the peculiar features of the
country, and every day I grew more in sympathy with the smiling,
charming valley shut in by mountains crowned with bald summits. The
contrast between the barren gray rocks and the luxuriant valley at
their feet particularly charmed me, and I especially delighted in the
view when the sun sank behind the mountains, which were quickly
enveloped in a soft twilight mist, the noble outlines of their peaks
showing clear against the sky in the light of the setting sun.
The character of the inhabitants of Southern Ukraine soon grew familiar
to me. Intercourse with the country folk whom I met on my excursions
was, of course, very limited; we could not understand each other's
language. Here and there a man who had served in the army could speak
German, but only brokenly. The women for the most part spoke scarcely a
German word, and they found it very difficult to understand the few
Slavonic words which I had learned from Mizka and which I certainly
pronounced very badly. There could be no attempt at conversation, but
nevertheless the Slavonic country folk tried to testify kindness and
cordiality for the stranger.
The peasants evidently held it their duty to offer the hospitality of
their fields to the "flycatcher," as they dubbed me, although sometimes
they found the grass trodden down where he had been. Unlike the Swiss
peasantry, who load with abuse any stranger venturing to trespass in
their fields, these Slavonic country folk seemed glad to have me pluck
flowers and pursue butterflies wherever I would; nay, they would at
times even point out places among the rocks most easy of access and
would assist in my search, never asking for money, accepting at most,
with many Slavonic words of thanks, a cheap cigar. Scarcely ever in all
my travels have I met a peasantry so amiable and kindly as these much
slandered Slavonic country folk. I never heard a harsh word or found a
trace of that hatred of Germans against which I had been cautioned.
And yet it was none the less there at the bottom of all their hearts;
but it was not for the German proper, as the Burgomaster had told me on
that first evening, but for those Ukrainers who in a Slavonic country
aimed at remaining faithful to Germany. Of this I had daily proof in
the expressions which I heard with regard to Franz Schorn.
The young man interested me greatly and I took every opportunity to
inform myself as to his circumstances, his earlier life, and everything
regarding him. What I learned was not of a nature either to weaken or
strengthen my suspicion, and, besides, I could not but acknowledge to
myself that all the sources from which I could gain information were
unfit to give me a true, distinct picture of a young fellow living in
brooding seclusion, as it were, in a community rife with party hatred.
The Clerk, the Captain, and the Burgomaster were the only men who could
sufficiently rid themselves of prejudice to speak really well of the
young man.
All acknowledged that Franz Schorn was an industrious, capable farmer,
who took admirable care of the estate inherited from his father; that
he was well educated, to a degree above his station; but no praise was
accorded to his character; he was said to be an obstinate, sullen
fellow, ready for deeds of violence, filled with party hatred,
maltreating his Slavonic labourers, covetous and hard-hearted. He had
no pity for the poor; his only desire was to gain money and increase
his patrimony, which was the reason why he had cast his eye on the rich
and pretty Anna Pollenz, not because he loved her, but from greed of
gain. This was the verdict of his enemies concerning him. The Captain
and the Clerk alone maintained that he was a man of honour, incapable
of mean or avaricious conduct; that he was reserved and defiant,
willing to defend himself with some violence against all party hatred,
and in other respects the victim of slander and low suspicion. How
could I find the truth in these conflicting descriptions? I pondered
the question in vain. It was certainly remarkable that a handsome,
well-to-do, educated young man should be so generally detested, and it
was hard to believe that such widespread hatred was entirely without
foundation.
I now had many opportunities of observing him. He came almost regularly
every evening to the Golden Vine and took the place at the round table
which the Clerk always reserved for him. It seemed to me that this was
done in order to establish a more kindly social feeling between Franz
and the rest of the company who nightly assembled in the inn. The Clerk
evidently endeavoured in the kindest way to draw him into the
conversation, which he knew how to conduct so that Schorn would have an
opportunity to be heard to the very best advantage in displaying his
clear judgment and admirable intelligence.
The Captain, the Burgomaster, and the doctor aided the Clerk in his
endeavour to establish peace between Franz and the rest of the company,
who, out of regard for these gentlemen, became less antagonistic, to be
sure, but still remained decidedly indifferent. They were content to do
what was required of them socially, greeting the young man when he
entered, but in conversation they avoided all direct talk with him, and
since he addressed all that he said to the three above-named members of
the party, he rarely exchanged a word with the others. The antipathy
existing between Franz and the Judge was especially observable. Between
these two there was an insurmountable barrier of profound dislike. They
never exchanged either a greeting or a word. Franz never even looked at
the Judge, although Herr Foligno watched him narrowly.
As soon as Franz appeared among the company in the evening, the Judge
fell silent. Even though he might before have talked continually, and
at times had even attempted to monopolize the conversation, from the
time when Franz appeared he confined himself to monosyllables or a word
thrown in here and there. He listened to all that was going on and with
special interest when the talk turned upon the failure to discover the
perpetrator of the crime committed in the Lonely House. At such times
his gaze would be riveted with a strange intensity upon Franz Schorn.
No word that the young man spoke, no expression of his countenance,
escaped him then. It was the gaze of the serpent upon the bird which he
is about to devour. This is perhaps an unsuitable simile, but it
occurred to me involuntarily as I saw the Judge watching Franz. I knew
his suspicions of the young man, and knew that he was secretly trying
to accumulate fresh grounds for it. I knew also that his desire was
great to gather from Franz some word that could be used against him,
and I fervently thanked my Creator that after going through two terms
as a student of law, I had given up all legal aspirations and devoted
myself to natural science. There is something positively detestable to
me in the thought of a man like the Judge sacrificing all humanity in
an eagerness to discover the traces of a crime. My discomfort increased
from day to day as I observed the stealthy manner in which he watched
Franz's every word and motion.
Sometimes I actually hated the Judge, but I reflected that I had no
right to do so. He was simply fulfilling the duty of his office, and
probably such fulfilment was most obnoxious to him; he certainly had
before him a most unpleasant and arduous task.
As yet there had been no light thrown upon the mysterious crime in the
Lonely House. The necessary papers had been sent to the court at
Laibach, and there the matter rested for the present. The investigating
Judge and the Attorney General had come to Luttach in person to
convince themselves that there was no trace of the criminal. The stolen
bonds and banknotes had not been found, and, in fact, identification of
these would have been impossible, as there had been no registration of
them.
Nor could the minutest search among the papers of the murdered man give
any evidence as to the amount of his property. The Judge and the
tradesman Weber, each of whom had formerly had dealings with old
Pollenz and occasion to speak with him about his money affairs,
maintained that the old man had kept a list of all bonds in his
possession, and of his outstanding investments, in order that he might
always be fully conscious of the amount of his wealth, but such a list
was not among the papers left behind by the thief. The miserly old man
had speculated with a kind of passion. He was in correspondence with
several bankers in Vienna; no one could tell with how many. These
bankers he commissioned partly by letter and partly through a Luttach
firm of tradesmen, Weber & Meyer, as to the purchase and sale of
various stocks. He excluded every one from all knowledge of his
speculations, and never sold his stock through the same banking house
that had purchased it for him. As no one knew how many banking houses
he employed, it seemed quite hopeless to discover what stock and
government bonds he had possessed, and this, of course, diminished the
chances of the discovery of the murderer should he attempt to sell the
papers.
It must have been a really humiliating reflection for Herr Foligno that
within his district a crime should have been committed without any
possibility of the discovery of the criminal. He might well fear that
those above him would accuse him of a want of acuteness, or of activity
in the performance of his duties. His clear, excellently composed
deposition had evidently not brought him the credit that it should have
done in higher places. When the two officials from Laibach had made
their visit to Luttach, they had put all their questions to the Clerk
and not to himself.
"Perhaps I have been wrong," he said to me after the visit of the two
men from Laibach, "I ought to have required you to give me a sworn
report of your encounter with Herr Franz Schorn in the forest near the
Lonely House. I thought of doing so, but the same feeling which forbade
me to do it upon the first discovery of the murder actuated me to-day
and with renewed strength. Your meeting with him, and the wound in his
hand, now entirely healed, are the only grounds of suspicion against
him, and you yourself proved to me how insignificant they are by your
simple remark that I, too, might be subjected to suspicion from the
same causes. I assure you, Herr Professor, that I cannot be
sufficiently grateful to you for preventing me from taking a step which
I might have repented forever. I do not deny that my suspicion of the
man is even more deeply rooted now than it was then, but it behooves me
to be all the more strict with myself, for hitherto I have discovered
nothing which could justify me in accusing the man whom, nevertheless,
I detest profoundly. Should I do so, all the world would believe that I
was endeavouring to be rid of a hated rival."
I could not but admit that he was right. Circumstances were really most
unfortunate for him. The Lonely House deserved its name now still more
than formerly. It was utterly lonely. After the body of its owner had
been interred in the graveyard of the village of Oberberg, the Captain
had closed it. Anna and her old maid had come to Luttach; she had at
last yielded to the persuasions of the Captain, the Burgomaster, and
the doctor, and had accepted an asylum in the doctor's house. A couple
of unused rooms were quickly furnished for herself and old Johanna.
They did not live there as guests of the owner, but as lodgers. It was
only with the stipulation that there should be no restriction of her
freedom that she had yielded to the wishes of her relatives, and the
first use which she made of this freedom was to declare that Franz
Schorn was her future husband, who should lead her to the altar at the
expiration of her year of mourning. In vain did the Burgomaster, the
Captain, and the doctor entreat the young girl to reserve for a time
such a declaration. Anna was not to be persuaded.
"It is just because all are against him; just because all seem to hate
him in spite of his noble, lofty nature, that I will be true to him. I
have been betrothed to him for two years. As long as my father lived I
could not declare this boldly against his will, but now I can do so."
Anna's declaration produced a disagreeable impression in Luttach. The
little social circle there was greatly scandalized, but even the
loudest scandalmonger had to be silent, since Anna with delicate tact
avoided all occasion for calumny. Her lover never visited her; her only
times for seeing him were when he was invited to the house by its
owner, the doctor, who had at first been really provoked at the girl's
obstinacy, but who now found it impossible to say enough of her truly
enchanting disposition. He had always loved her, ever since she had
been a little child, but had never dreamed of her becoming so charming,
so tender and caressing. His wife, too, was perfectly delighted to have
the lovely girl beneath her roof. He now comprehended perfectly how
that stony-hearted miser, old Pollenz, had yielded to the charm of this
girl, and, being quite unable to resist her, had not ventured to oppose
her meeting Franz beneath the oak daily at noon, for fear of her
forsaking him entirely. But, docile and amiable as Anna showed herself
among her relatives and friends, the Burgomaster, the Captain, the
doctor and his wife, she was correspondingly hard and repellent towards
the Judge. From the Captain, with whom I had a daily gossip in the
early morning in the garden, I learned that Herr Foligno still
entertained a foolish hope of conquering the dislike which Anna felt
for him. Several times since she had taken up her dwelling at the
doctor's he had made an attempt to approach her, but had always been
repulsed with signs of the greatest aversion. The Captain and the
doctor had represented to her that she should at least treat him with
conventional courtesy, but she had declared that for him she had no
courteous, kindly word; she detested and despised him, not only because
her father had once wished to force her to marry him, but because she
had a firm conviction that he was at heart a wicked man. She would give
no grounds for this belief, but she was quite sure it was justified.
The Captain and the doctor must have mentioned to others Anna's
behaviour in this respect; it was known throughout Luttach. There was
much laughing gossip in the little town about the Judge's unfortunate
love. Every evening Mizka detailed to me some town tattle, which was
sure to have for its subject pretty Anna and her two adorers. Perhaps
it was not quite right that I should lend an ear to such downright
gossip, but I do not deny that it interested me, and I could not make
up my mind to interrupt the garrulous maid as she told me of all that
was discussed in the town.
Though I had but very little sympathy for the Judge, I felt rather
sorry for him; he apparently suffered from the unfortunate
circumstances in which he was placed. He had proved, too, that at
bottom he was not a bad man by the consideration which he had shown for
his inveterate enemy, against whom he endeavoured to harbour no
suspicion. It was most unfortunate that he should bestow his affection
upon a young girl who detested him. I could not excuse him for
continuing to sue for her favour after she had shown him her dislike,
and he exposed himself to the ridicule of the townfolk and fell in my
esteem when every evening he sought to drown his woes by drinking
immoderately.
Nevertheless I pitied him. To me he was all amiability and courtesy. He
usually postponed his midday meal until I returned from my excursions
and could partake of it with him. He took much interest in my
collections, particularly in my botanical treasures, and really showed,
for a layman, no little knowledge of the subject. If I had lit upon
some rare plant, he would learn from me its locality, and in the
afternoon would scramble about among the rocks and boast to me in the
evening as he displayed the plucked flowers of the result of his
labours, and that he had discovered another spot rich in such
treasures. If on the following morning I endeavoured to find according
to his directions the place he had described, I became aware that it
could be attained only by what was almost dangerous climbing. The
ascent to a place where he told me I should find quantities of the
_Ophrys Bertolini_ was so hazardous that I might easily have come to
grief had I not been a practised mountaineer. On returning, although I
strictly followed his directions, I could not have rightly understood
them, for I entered a perfect labyrinth of dangerous ravines. It was
almost by a miracle that at last I found my way out of it and succeeded
in descending by an unused breakneck path.
Exhausted beyond measure by such unexpected exertion, I returned to
Luttach at noon and rehearsed to the Judge the danger through which I
had passed.
He replied with a smile, "You must have missed the path in descending
which I described to you. It is not without danger, but still not very
bad. I am glad, however, that you are now convinced of the difficulty
which I had two weeks ago in plucking the _Ophrys Bertolini_. That is
the spot where I found the flowers that I brought you. I still do not
understand how you found the charming plants in a place easy of
access."
So he had sent me upon this dangerous excursion just to rid himself of
the imputation of bragging. This was very clear. I really did not thank
him for it. I said nothing, but determined in future not to explore any
of his wonderful localities. I am not such a passionate enthusiast for
botany as to expose myself, for the sake of a beautiful flower, to the
risk of breaking my neck.