THE COUNT DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF.
In the dusk of the early morning the keepers, drivers, and dogs had
assembled in the large room of Hans Halm's inn. Hermann was there too,
with the great-jawed Rudolph; and Margarethe, with a shadowy
reminiscence of recent dreams in her soft black eyes, stood quietly on
one side, or brought some beer to this or that gruff forester, who had
perhaps walked a dozen miles that morning to the place of rendezvous.
The dogs lay under the chairs, the guns and deerskin pouches of the men
were on the table before them, by the side of their tall feathered
beavers; and if the whole scene did not look as if it had been cut out
of an opera, it was because the picturesque trappings of the keepers had
been sobered in colour by the rain and sun of many years, and because
there dwelt over the party an austere silence. The excitement of the
day had not commenced.
When the Count and Will arrived at the place of meeting, a faint flush
of rose-colour was beginning to steal along the dark violet of the dawn;
and as the whole party set out, in straggling twos and threes along the
grey road, daylight began to show itself over the fields and the
mist-covered woods.
Hermann, who led the way, was accompanied by a little old man with a
prodigious black moustache, twinkling eyes, and comical gravity of face,
who was captain over the drivers, and named Spiegelmann. The venerable
Spiegelmann, with his tall hat and slung horn, was a man of importance;
and he had already, with much seriousness, pronounced his opinion on the
direction of the wind, and on the necessity for beginning the driving
some considerable distance further on.
Then came Will Anerley, who had made friends with the young
schoolmaster, Gersbach, and was very anxious to know how life was to be
made tolerable if one lived at Schoenstein all the year round. Indeed,
Anerley's having travelled so much, and among so many different people,
combined with a certain natural breadth of sympathy, gave him a peculiar
interest in trying to imagine himself in the position of almost every
man whom he met. How did those men regard the rest of the world? What
had they to look forward to? What was their immediate aim--their
immediate pleasure? Anerley would take as much interest in the affairs
of an applewoman, and talk as gravely and freely to her about them, as
he would in the more ambitious projects of an artist or a man of
letters. The gratifying of this merely intellectual curiosity was a
constant habit and source of satisfaction to him; and while it offended
some people by the frankness of speech, and charmed others by the
immediate generosity and self-denial which were its natural results, it
promised to leave him, sooner or later, in the attitude of negative
criticism and social isolation which his father exhibited. Fortunately,
he had inherited from his mother a certain warmth of heart and impulse,
which corrected his transmitted tendency to theorize: it was this side
of his temperament which had brought upon him his present misfortune,
while he had been engaged, out of pure curiosity, in studying Annie
Brunel's character, and endeavouring to enter into her views of the
people and things around her. In fact, the pursuit of which I speak,
though extremely enticing and pleasant, should never be attempted by an
unmarried man who has not passed his fortieth year.
In the present case the young Herr Schulmeister took an instant liking
for the grave, cheerful, plain-spoken man beside him, who seemed to
concern himself about other people, and was so ready with excuses for
them.
"I should not take you to be an Englishman," said Gersbach.
"Why?"
"You have none of the English character. Count Schoenstein is an
Englishman--a typical Englishman--conceited, bigoted in his own
opinions, generous when it is permitted to him to be ostentatious, dull
and stupid, and jealous of people who are not so----"
"My friend," said Will, "why didn't you leave your dolls behind you in
the nursery? Or is this typical Englishman one of your university
puppets? You know there is no such thing as a typical Englishman, or
typical Frenchman, or typical German; and I have almost come to believe
that there is no such thing as national character. The most reckless
prodigals I have met have been Scotchmen; the keenest business-men I
have met have been Irishmen; the dullest and most melancholy,
Frenchmen----"
"And the Germans?" asked Gersbach, with a laugh.
"The Germans are like anybody else, so far as disposition goes, although
they happen to be educationally and intellectually a little ahead of
other nations. And as for the poor Graf, I don't think you, for
example, would make half as good a man as he is if you were in his
position."
"Perhaps not; but why?"
"I can't exactly explain it to you in German; but doctrinairism is not
the first requisite in a landlord; and if you were the Graf, you would
be for coercing the people under you and about you, into being logical,
and you would withdraw yourself from people who opposed you, and you
would gradually weaken your influence and destroy your chances of doing
good. Why are our Tory country gentlemen always better liked by the
people than the Radical proprietors? Why are Tories, as a rule,
pleasanter companions than Radicals? I am a Radical; but I always
prefer dining with a Tory?"
"Is the Count a Tory?" asked the Schulmeister.
"Yes. Men who have been in business and earned, or gained, a lot of
money, almost invariably become fierce Tories. It is their first
passport to respectability; and there is no step one can take so cheaply
as that of changing one's political theories."
"What a singular social life you have in England!" cried Gersbach,
blinking with a curious sort of humour behind his big spectacles.
"There is the demi-monde, for example. Why, you talk of that, and your
writers speak of it, as if there was an acknowledged rivalry openly
carried on between the members of it and your married women."
"But our married women," said Will, "are going to form a trades-union
among themselves in order to crush that institution."
At which Franz Gersbach looked puzzled: these English were capable of
trying any mad expedient; and somehow their devices always worked well,
except in such matters as popular education, military efficiency, music,
scholarship, and so forth. As for a trades-union of any kind, it was
sure to flourish in England.
They had now reached the edge of the forest, and here Hermann called the
party around him, and gave his orders in a loud peremptory tone, which
had the effect of considerably frightening his master; the Count hoped
that he would do nothing inaccurate.
"You, Herr Schulmeister, will accompany the drivers, and Spiegelmann
will give you one of the return-posts. Falz, you will go down to the
new-cut road--Greef on your right, Beigel further along. Spiegelmann
will sound his horn when you are all posted, and the second horn when
the drive commences. Forward, then, in God's name, all of us!"
And away trooped the lads under the surveillance of the venerable
Spiegelmann, who had a couple of brace of leashed beagles pulling and
straining and whining to get free into the brushwood. Hermann, Will,
and the Count at once dived into the twilight of the tall pines, that
almost shut out the red flames of the morning over their peaks. The
soft, succulent yellow moss was heavy with dew, and so were the ferns
and the stoneberry bushes. A dense carpet of this low brushwood
deadened the sound of their progress; and they advanced, silent as
phantoms, into the dim recesses of the wood. Here and there occurred an
opening or clearance, with a few felled trees lying about; then they
struggled through a wilderness of younger fir and oak, and finally came
into a tract of the forest where nothing was to be seen, as far as the
eye could reach, but innumerable tall trunks, coated with the yellow and
grey lichens of many years, branchless almost to their summit, and
rising from a level plain of damp green moss. There was not even the
sound of a bird, or of a falling leaf, to break the intense silence of
the place; nor was there the shadow of any living thing to be seen down
those long narrow avenues between the closely-growing stems of the
trees.
"Count Schoenstein," said Will, in a whisper, as they drew near the
Haupt-platz, "what gun is that you have with you?"
"My ordinary breech-loader."
"Carries far?"
"I should think so. Shoots hard and close as a rifle."
"Will it kill at fifty yards?"
"It might."
"Hermann," said Will, turning to the head-keeper, "I insist on being
posted eighty yards distant from the Count."
"You think that is a joke," said the Count peevishly.
"I don't think it a joke at all," said Will. "Breech-loaders have a
wonderful faculty of going off when nobody expects them; and though you
may explain the thing satisfactorily afterwards, that won't remove a few
buck-shot out of your leg."
"I am not in the habit of letting my gun go off accidentally," said the
Count, grandly. "Indeed, I flatter myself that few men better
understand the use of----"
"The _Haupt-platz_, Herr," said Hermann, unceremoniously breaking in
upon his master. "The Herr Graf will be stationed farther down this
path; you must not shoot in that direction. You may shoot in front as
the deer comes to you, or after them when they have passed; not along
this line, only."
"Danke schoen, Hermann, and tell the same thing to the Count."
He now found himself opposite a tall tree, which had a cross in red
paint traced upon the trunk. The Count and Hermann passed on, and when
the three were posted, each held out his arm, and signalled that he
understood his immediate neighbour's position, and would remember it.
Scarcely had they done so when a long and loud _tantara!_ from
Spiegelmann's horn told them that the drivers were ready. A faint echo
now came from the other side of the strip of forest, showing that there
the keepers were posted; and finally a return-blast from Hermann's horn
proclaimed that all were waiting.
Once more a brilliant trill from Spiegelmann--this time an audacious and
elaborate effort, full of noisy anticipation--came through the wood; and
then were heard the faint and far-off sounds of yelping dogs, and
shouting men, and sticks being beaten against the stumps of the trees.
The drive had commenced. Count Schoenstein began to tremble; his heart
went faster and faster, as his excited brain peopled all the dim vistas
of the trees with living forms. He could scarcely breathe with absolute
fear. Again and again he looked at his triggers, and the hammers, and
the little spikes of brass which he hoped would strike death into the
ribs of some splendid buck. He began to assure himself that he _could
not_ tell a buck from a doe if the animal ran quickly; that he _must_
shoot at once, and trust to Providence keeping the tender feminine
members of the herd out of the way. Indeed, he had already framed an
excuse for having shot a doe, and he was busily picturing his assumed
regret, and his inner delight at being able to shoot anything, when----
By this time a dead silence had intervened. The first joyous yelping of
the dogs had quite died down; and now the broad-footed, stump-legged,
big-headed little animals were wiring themselves through the brushwood,
and jumping over the soft moss, with an occasional toss of their long
ears or a slight whine. The only sound to be heard was the occasional
rattling of sticks by the beaters, accompanied by their peculiar
guttural cry.
Suddenly--and the whole empty space of the wood seemed to quiver for a
moment with this instantaneous throb of life--Will caught a glimpse of a
light shimmer of brown away at the end of one of the long avenues. For
a moment the apparition was lost; when it reappeared, it was evident
that the deer was bearing down upon Count Schoenstein's position. The
next second, a fine lithe, thin-limbed, supple, and handsome buck came
along in a light easy canter into the grey light of the opener space. He
had no thought of danger before him; he only thought of that behind; and
for a brief space he stood right in front of the Count, apparently
listening intently for the strange sounds from which he fled.
In despair, and rage, and amazement, Will saw him pause there, out of
the range of _his_ shot, and yet without an effort being made to secure
the fine pair of horns which graced the animal's head. Will now saw
that the Count's gun was levelled, and that he was apparently pulling at
the trigger, but no puff of smoke came out of the barrel. Almost at the
same moment the deer must have seen the Count; for all at once he shrank
back on his limbs, as if he had been struck, shivered lightly through
his entire frame, and then, with a sudden leap, he was off and away out
of sight, in the direction of Hermann!
In that brief moment of time the Count had taken down his gun, looked at
the hammers, found they were on half-cock, cocked them, and put up his
gun again; and then, as the deer was just vanishing, bang! bang! went
both the barrels. Of course the buck was quite untouched; but the next
moment Will heard the sharp crack of a gun in the neighbourhood of
Hermann's post; and he knew what _that_ meant.
Even at that distance he could hear the Count breathing out
incomprehensible curses at his own stupidity, as he put another couple
of cartridges into the barrels. Doubtless, in his excitement, he had
been trying so often whether the hammers were on full-cock--pulling at
them, letting them down, and so forth--that accidentally they remained
at half-cock, and so spoiled for him the easiest shot he was likely to
get that day.
The silence which had been broken by the report of the guns now fell
again over the forest. The sun came out, too; and soon there were
straggling lanes of gold running down into the blue twilight of the
distance; while the heat seemed to have suddenly awakened a drowsy
humming of insect life. Now and then a brightly-plumaged jay would
flash through the trees, screaming hoarsely; and then again the same
dead, hot stillness prevailed. It was in this perfect silence that a
living thing stole out of some short bushes, and softly made its way
over the golden and green moss until it caught sight of Will. Then it
cocked up its head, and calmly regarded him with a cold, glassy, curious
stare. The moment it lifted its head he saw that it was a fox, not
reddish-brown, but blackish-grey, with extraordinarily bright eyes; and
as they had been specially invited to shoot foxes--which are of no use
for hunting purposes, and do much damage, in the Black Forest--he
instinctively put up his gun. As instinctively, he put it down again.
"My old prejudices are too strong," he said; wherewith he contented
himself with lifting a lump of dried wood and hurling it at the small
animal, which now slunk away in another direction.
Then burst out the joyous howl of the beagles--here and there, as if
every one of them had started his own particular game; the yelping bark
rising at times sharp and clear as if in the immediate neighbourhood, at
other times fading away into the distance. The fun had commenced.
First there came trotting along a long-necked, thin-legged doe, with a
little fawn by her side; and these, catching sight of Will, made a sharp
turn to the right and bore down upon the Count. The latter, either too
frightened or too savage to care for distinctions of sex or age, again
blazed both barrels into the air, with what effect Will was too much
occupied to see.
For at the same moment there came down the line, transversely, crossing
in front of the Count, a fine buck which Hermann had taken a long shot
at and missed. The deer was going at full speed, careless of anything
in front, his whole energy bent on speeding from the danger behind, and
every thew and muscle of his body straining its utmost. As he passed,
Will fired his right barrel into the flashing streak of brown--not a
hair was touched! The next moment the buck, seeing that no further
enemy stood in front, wheeled round and made off to cross the path on
which Will stood, at some distance farther down. Just as the shoulder
of the animal appeared before the lane of trees, the other barrel was
sent after him; there was a shrill scream, the buck leapt a dozen feet
into the air and fell, without a parting groan in him, head-foremost on
the soft moss.
"There is one pair of horns, at least, for Miss Brunel," thought Will,
hastily pushing in two more cartridges.
The Count had certainly plenty of good fortune, so far as the deer were
concerned. One particularly handsome buck which had been running
straight at him, without seeing him, he received with a hurriedly-aimed
shot which did no damage. The animal, however, got such a fright that
it turned and galloped right back and through the ring of the beaters,
escaping a parting shot which old Spiegelmann aimed at him. Here and
there a shot had been heard round the sides of the drive; but as yet no
one knew what the other had done. In a few minutes, however, the dogs
and then the boys began to show themselves, approaching through the
trees. That particular drive was over.
Will hastened up to the Count.
"What have you shot?"
"Nothing."
The Count looked very much vexed; and Will attributed it, of course, to
his having missed so many shots.
"Why didn't you shoot sooner at the deer that came up and looked at
you?"
"Why?" re-echoed the Count, with a savage laugh. "Why? Because these
---- barrels were both on half-cock, and I pulled like to break my
fingers over the ---- things. What did you shoot?"
"I believe I've left a buck lying down there."
"Why don't you go and look after him, and get somebody to carry him
home, instead of waiting here?"
The Count was evidently very uncomfortable. He bit his lip, he worked
with the trigger of his gun; and finally he walked abruptly away from
Will, and addressed, in a whisper, the first of the boys who came up:
"Kommen Sie hier."
The boy stared in amazement at being called "Sie." Of course he dared
not think that the Count was joking.
"Ich habe geschossen--wissen Sie----?"
"Ja, Herr," said the boy, vaguely, though he did not understand what the
Count meant.
"Ein kleines--ein gar kleines--d--n it, look here!"
He caught the boy by the shoulder, as if he meant to kick him, and
dragged him a few yards farther on, and pointed to the ground. The boy
opened his eyes: if he had seen the corpse of his first-cousin lying
there, he could not have been more astonished.
"Sie sehen es," remarked the Count, hurriedly, with a fine red flush
burning in his stout face.
"Ja, Herr."
There lay there a tiny, soft, pretty little animal, scarcely bigger than
a King Charles' spaniel, with a glossy light-brown coat, and large meek
eyes, now glazed and dull. Blood was trickling from the little thing's
mouth, and also from its shoulder: the fact being that the Count, on
seeing the doe and her fawn coming up, had fired both his barrels at
them on chance, and had managed to destroy the helpless youngling.
If you had told the Count then, that before evening every man, woman,
and child in Schoenstein would have heard of what he had done, that the
keepers would be sneering at him and the neighbours laughing at him, he
would probably have put another cartridge into his gun and shot himself
(if he were able) on the spot. His present anxiety was to get this
little lad to take away the fawn under his blouse and bury it somewhere;
but all he could do failed to impress the incorrigible young
Schwarzwalder with his meaning.
"Verstehen Sie mir nicht?"
"Ja, Herr."
It was always "Ja, Herr;" and here were the people coming up.
Fortunately, Hermann, having sent a long blast of his horn to recall any
straggling beater or keeper, had walked down to the place where Will's
slain buck was lying, accompanied by the rest of the keepers, who, as
they came up, gravely shook hands with Will, according to custom, and
wished him many more such shots. Then Spiegelmann, selecting a
peculiarly-shaped branch of young fir, stuck it into Will's hat; by
which all and sundry--particularly they of the village--as the
shooting-party returned at night, might know that he had brought down a
buck.
At this moment two of the lads dragged up the deer which Hermann had
shot; and one of the keepers, with his long killing-knife in hand,
proceeded to disembowel the animals, previous to their being carried
home. The rest of the party seated themselves on the driest spot they
could find, and somebody produced a couple of chopins of white wine,
which were forthwith handed round.
But what of the Count? They had all been so eager to compliment Will on
his good fortune, that no one had noticed the Graf's uneasy loitering
about the fatal spot where his murdered victim lay.
Presently up came the boy.
"Hermann Loewe, the Herr Graf wants to see you. He has shot a little
fawn; but he won't let me bring it."
Hermann rose up, with a flush of vexation over his face. He did not
look at his companions, but he knew that they were smiling.
"Young idiot!" he said, when they were out of earshot, "why didst thou
come and say so before all the people?"
"The Herr Graf----"
"Der Teufel! Hast thou no head on thy shoulders?"
The Count was mortally frightened to meet Hermann. He did not know in
what manner to conduct himself: whether he should carelessly joke away
the matter, or overawe his forester by the grandeur of his demeanour.
"I see," said Hermann, when he came up; "the Herr Graf will not believe
me that there is always time to look--that when there is no time to
look, one need not waste powder."
"Bah! stuff! nonsense! I tell you, when they are running like infernal
hares, how am I to look at their size to a nicety?"
"The fawns don't run so quickly," said Hermann, respectfully, but
firmly.
"Hermann Loewe," said the Count, hotly, "I suppose you're my servant?"
"I have that honour, Herr Graf."
"Then you'll please to shut up, that's all, and get that wretched little
animal out of the road. Not run quickly! D--n his impudence! I'll
have to teach these German thieves some better manners."
With which, and many more muttered grumblings, the Count walked off,
leaving Hermann to cover up the dead body of the fawn, and mark the
place, so that it could be afterwards taken away and securely buried.
When the Count came up to the rest of the party, he was smiling
urbanely.
"Stolen a march upon me, eh?" he said to Will. "On my own ground, too.
'Gad, I'll show you something before we've done. I hadn't the ghost of
a chance either time I shot; and it was lucky I missed the second time,
because I saw immediately afterwards that it was a doe."
"She had a fawn with her, hadn't she?" said Will.
"Yes," replied the Count, with a sharp glance all round the circle of
faces.
Hermann now came up, and chose two of the strongest lads to carry home
the two deer. Each lad had one of the animals slung round his
shoulders, while he grasped two of its thin legs in either hand, and
allowed the neck, head, and horns of the buck to hang down in a
picturesque fashion behind him. Will went privately up to one of the
boys:
"You know Grete Halm?"
"Yes."
"When you go down to the village, tell Grete to ask the English lady to
come back with you; because, if she remains till midday, we may be gone
too far from Schoenstein. You understand?"
"Yes."
"And you may go up to the Herr Graf's house, and tell any one you may
see to send up luncheon an hour earlier than was arranged. You
understand?"
"Ja, Herr."
And so the two lads went on their way; and Hermann began to sketch out
to his keepers the plan of the next drive.