The mist of evening hung over the still country. The heavy snow-clouds,
piled into huge heaps by the winds, drifted slowly across the dreary
sky, now and then letting fall a stray flake. To the right and left of
the road, whose deep ruts were filled with a half-frozen slush, the
trees stretched up to heaven their black and dripping branches, on
which even the crows refused to alight.
In this dismal wintry desert, where, far and wide, no human being could
be seen, where no dog barked at the horses, the words seemed to freeze
on the lips of the two horsemen. Jansen had informed Felix only of
those facts which were positively essential to a knowledge of the case;
of his determination to make an end of the affair, and his belief that
the abduction of the child was either to be used as a means of
extorting some concessions from him, or else that it was a mere trick
on the part of the mother to let him feel her power, and to present
herself to the world in the character of an abused wife, who sought by
this desperate deed to recover a right of which she had long been
deprived.
Felix had but little to say in reply.
"Perhaps it is better, after all, that the matter should be brought to
a crisis," he thought to himself. "Who knows how long it would have
dragged on if he had always been obliged to negotiate from a distance.
If he only keeps cool and puts forth all his energy, he will probably
effect more now, when it is likely that her conscience troubles her in
regard to the farce of yesterday, than he could otherwise have hoped
for."
Whereupon he put spurs to his horse, and, in spite of the interest with
which his friend's fate inspired him, relapsed into his own thoughts.
He had been with Irene for a few hours that morning. The feeling that
he brought away with him from those happy hours, the certainty that
henceforth his way was clear before him, took complete possession of
him, and made him unsusceptible to all the dreariness of this strange
ride. In addition to this he was filled with joy at being able to help
his friend at such a moment, as well as at being a witness of the
favorable change which he believed was about to take place in Jansen's
lot. Absorbed in these thoughts, he caught himself whistling a merry
tune, and beating time to it with his riding-whip; but, seeing that
Jansen suddenly spurred on his horse and rode past him, he broke off,
urged his own animal to greater speed, and, after overtaking his friend
again, rode along at a sharp trot by the side of his brooding
companion.
Upon reaching the next village--where, notwithstanding the early hour,
everybody seemed to have gone to bed--they drew up before the tavern,
and made inquiries concerning a traveling-carriage that they thought
must have passed by the place. The few peasants who were in the guests'
room, playing cards with the landlord, came out to the door, and gave
it as their opinion that, at this time of year, no other carriage than
the doctor's or the priest's one-horse chaise would show itself in
those parts. They stood shaking their heads, and looking after the
retiring horsemen, as they again dashed forward.
"We shall overtake them in Grossheselohe, at the railway bridge," said
Felix. "They can't cross there with the carriage, and will wait for the
express train, so as to go on early to-morrow morning. They _must_ have
passed, unless Rosenbusch was dreaming. These people in the tavern are
so befogged with beer and schnapps, that it is very probable they
didn't hear the wheels."
They reached the village of Grossheselohe as one of the church clocks
was striking six. A rather lively company was assembled in the village
ale-house. The waiter-girl, who stepped to the door upon hearing the
approaching sound of horses' hoofs, knew nothing of any carriage
bringing strangers from the city. But a drunken hostler, who came
staggering out of one of the stalls, muttered some unintelligible words
and pointed to the road leading into the wood, though he could not be
induced to give any more distinct information.
"Forward!" cried Felix. "We have no other choice, and I know the road
through the wood. Undoubtedly, Stephanopulos is also very well
acquainted with the country about here. This region was the classic
site of the May festivals that the artists used to give. Take my word
for it, we shall find our fugitives in the next village."
He urged on his horse, but the heavy darkness now forced them to
moderate their speed. Riding at a walk, they plunged into the blackness
of the little wood which fringes the high bank of the Isar, and which,
in summertime, is the goal of so many weary city-folk. Now, it was so
gloomy that even Felix felt a cold shudder pass through his very bones.
Down in the deep ravines the water roared, and the wind sighed
mournfully through the bare tree-tops. Jansen's animal shied and
reared, but his rider sat in the saddle like the stone Commendatore; he
had hardly spoken a word for an hour.
Suddenly Felix reined in his horse. "Do you see there?" said he, in a
suppressed voice. "I'll wager we have them. It's high time. My horse
has gone lame in its right fore-foot."
Across a cleared patch in the wood they saw the village which the
artists had used as a rallying-point in the picnics of which Felix
had spoken. A house, with a rather high roof, stood out like a
silhouette against the gray sky, showing, in its second story, a
row of brightly-lighted windows.
"Unless they happen to be celebrating a wedding here, other guests must
be in those rooms," said Felix. "Let's ride nearer, and cut across this
field; although there's not much fear that they could escape us now,
even if we should besiege their hiding-place from the open road."
The horses, giving a low neigh--for they scented a crib of
oats--stamped through the slippery mud, and drew up before the fence
that separated the inn court-yard from the street.
"We are right," whispered Felix, who stood up in his stirrups in
order to look over the fence. "The carriage is standing there in the
yard--two people are busy unloading the trunks--the fellow holding the
lantern is probably the coachman. Now for it, in God's name!"
He swung himself from his horse, and stepped up to his friend to help
him out of the saddle. "Come," he said, patting the streaming horse on
the neck. "Whatever you are going to do, do it quickly. You will
probably find the whole company together, up-stairs; and, while you are
doing what is right up there, I will see to our horses and follow in
five minutes. Or do you want me to go up with you at once?"
A deep sigh, the first sign of life that the silent man had yet given,
was the only answer. He seemed to have considerable difficulty in
getting out of the stirrups, as if his limbs were frozen fast to the
saddle. Then he stood for a few moments in a deep reverie, and seemed
to be struggling to get the better of a strong aversion, before he
could bring himself to enter the house. Felix accompanied him as far as
the door.
"Remember to keep down that Berserker blood of yours!" he whispered to
him.
Jansen nodded, and pressed his hand as if to ratify the vow. Then he
stood still again, raised his hat to wipe his forehead, and then strode
quickly across the threshold.
Felix gazed after him with a feeling of painful sympathy. He would much
rather have undertaken this difficult mission in his friend's stead.
But he knew him too well to dare even to propose such a thing.
So he led the two horses by the bridles, pushed open the gate, and
entered the court.
The hostlers, who were busied about the traveling-carriage, rose up and
stared in amazement when they heard the sound of horses' hoofs, and saw
this young stranger coolly approaching them.
"Good-evening!" he said. "I suppose you still have room in your stable
and a few dry blankets. These beasts are as wet as if they had just
been drawn out of the water."
No answer. The coachman turned the lantern full in the face of the
new-comer, and shrugged his shoulders.
"You'll be no losers for taking good care of my animals," continued
Felix. "In the mean time, I think I can find the stable-door for
myself."
Without further parley he took the lantern from the coachman's
hand--who, in his confusion, was at a loss how to bear himself toward
this distinguished-looking gentleman--and proceeded to light his horses
to the manger.
At this moment he heard a voice calling across the court, urging the
people who were unpacking the carriage to make haste. The owner of this
voice stepped out of the back-door; and, seeing the people standing
there idle, he marched quickly up to the spot with the intention of
giving them a sound rating. Before he could utter a word, however, he
started back in confusion--for Felix had also stood still, and raised
his lantern so that his figure could be distinctly seen.
Stephanopulos, bare-headed and wrapped in a shawl, stood before him,
presenting an appearance that was anything but imposing. However,
observing the sarcastic mien of the young baron, he soon succeeded in
recovering--outwardly, at least--his usual presence of mind.
"You here!" he cried. "What an unexpected meeting! Really, if I hadn't
seen it with my own eyes--"
"_Bon soir, mon cher!_ Can I get quarters here, too?" interrupted
Felix. "Yes, you are right; it is I in person. And, for that matter,
though you are surprised to see me here in weather like this, which can
hardly be said to offer any great inducements for making country
excursions, it is really no more surprising than that I should find
_you_. We Northerners are accustomed to winter campaigns. But for one
who grew up at the foot of the Parthenon--"
"Are you--alone, or--is some one else--" stammered the unfortunate man.
"Only a good friend of mine, who chanced to have business here, and who
will also be rejoiced to see you. Really now, without compliments, we
hardly had a right to expect this agreeable meeting so near the city.
Where are you going to, sir?" he suddenly raised his voice. "Back into
the house? I must earnestly request you to favor me with your company
for a short time outside here. Your sense of delicacy ought to teach
you that the business which occupies my friend within-doors there will
bear no witnesses but those most nearly concerned, and however much you
appear to consider yourself as one of the family--"
"Let me alone!" cried the youth, in whose dark eyes an evil light began
to gleam. "Why do you stand in my way? What right have you to concern
yourself with my affairs?"
"My dear sir," said Felix, dropping the horses' bridles and stepping
close up to Stephanopulos, "before all things, don't scream so loud. In
your own interest, I advise you not to be too grandiloquent about this
affair. The person who is most directly concerned in it might resent
any remonstrance on your part less politely than I do. If you care at
all to get out of this ridiculous scrape in as respectable a manner as
possible--"
"Take care!" cried the other. "You insult me! You shall give me
satisfaction for thinking me capable of such a piece of infamy! What!
desert an unfortunate woman, who has trusted herself to my protection,
in the presence of a man who has always abused her, and has sworn to
kill her if she ever comes into his sight again! Let me alone, I tell
you! I will--I must go back to the house! I must stand by her--I
must--"
"It is very magnanimous of you to want to," interrupted Felix, coldly,
as he seized the other's arm with an iron grip. "But, in the mean
while, I will take care that you don't. I would propose to you to take
a walk in the neighboring wood, in order to cool off your hot blood a
little, until the husband has settled matters with his wife. If you
should interfere with him, I'm very much afraid he would shoot you
without taking any more time for reflection than you did yesterday when
you put an end to the poor dog. But I am sorry for you, my good fellow.
And for that reason, and also to preserve you for art and for further
adventures--"
While saying these words he had been forcing Stephanopulos toward the
side where the stable was. There was a door standing open, apparently
leading up-stairs to the hay-loft.
"In here!" he said, imperiously, suddenly letting go of the youth's arm
and sending him stumbling over the threshold.
The Greek curse that rose to his lips was stifled by the furious
passion which blazed up in him.
"Help! help!" he shrieked, beside himself with maddening rage.
But Felix shut the door upon him, quickly turned the key in the lock,
and went back to the horses. The prisoner could be heard raging on the
other side of the door; a moment afterward his face appeared at the
little barred window. A blow of his fist shivered the pane.
"If you don't open on the instant, you scoundrel--you blackguard--"
"I repeat my good advice," said Felix, stepping up close to the window.
"Behave yourself quietly and yield to force, unless you want to make
your position worse than it is already. What I have just done is for
your own good, and your imprisonment will hardly last longer than half
an hour. Afterward, of course, I will afford you all so-called
satisfaction, with pleasure--as soon my time will allow me."
He lifted his hat a little, stuck the key in his pocket, and resumed
his hold of the horses' bridles.
The coachman and the stable-boys, who had looked on at this singular
scene in open-mouthed surprise, were so taken aback by his manner,
that, without attempting to make any effort in behalf of the prisoner,
they officiously hastened to lend assistance in leading the horses into
the barn. Felix gave a few directions about how they were to be
treated, and threw a thaler to each of the men. Then he took the
lantern in his hand again, gave orders that no one should follow him,
and strode across the yard to join his friend.