clasping the child silently, and sighing as if her soul would leave her
body. I thought I had won, and that she would turn back with me and
gradually give in. If she could have cried it would have been her
salvation, but her eyes were perfectly dry, and I saw her stare
continually at the house down there, as if she would pierce the walls
and destroy that bad man and his bridge with the wreath and veil. I
begged her to come into the house. I realized then that I had nothing
in the world but her, and I told her so, asking her to forgive me for
all my roughness and unkindness to her. Dear God, when one is so
miserable, and another hungry mouth comes into the house! But she heard
nothing. The music seemed to bewitch her; she began to rock the child
back and forth; then of a sudden she gave a loud cry, as if her heart
had broken, and before I knew what she meant to do, she was rushing
down to the pond. Her loose hair streamed after her, the blue clothes
fluttered, she ran so fast, and--O thou merciful One!--with my own eyes
I saw it--child and grandchild! I tried to scream, I was choking; I ran
like a madman; as I came down, I saw only the black water, bubbling
like a kettle at the place where--'
"She sprang up, and stood half bowed among the damp marsh grasses like
a picture of despair, both arms outstretched toward the now motionless
water.
"I could not speak a word. Every instant I thought she would throw
herself in after them. The spot where we were standing seemed
peculiarly suitable for a suicide. The bank shelved perpendicularly
into the depths; no rushes grew out of the water; the alder bushes,
retreating, left a gap several feet in width; and even close to shore
the water was as dark as if the depths were bottomless.
"But the old woman seemed to intend nothing violent. Her body relaxed
again and her arms fell loosely on her hips.
"'Do you see anything there?' she asked suddenly, in an undertone.
"'Where?'
"'Down there by the willow? No; it is nothing. I thought her hair came
to the surface. But she is lying at the bottom. At first something
yellow floated out on the water--I would swear it was her hair--and the
long rake there, left since haying-time--if I had taken it, and fished
for the hair with it, and twisted it fast around the prongs, I believe
I could have pulled her to land even then. But say for yourself, sir,
what would it have mattered? She would have jumped in again. And
wouldn't it have been wicked to rob her of the rest she has found down
there? Who knows that I should have drawn out the poor brat with her!
And without her only plaything, what could she do in the world?'
"She stopped again, rubbing her lean shoulders with her crossed arms as
if she felt a fever-chill. The music paused in the inn below; I heard
the old woman's quick, gasping breaths, and now and then a disconnected
word as if of prayer. This sad stillness was suddenly interrupted by a
hoarse bray from the woods above. We both looked around.
"Lame Minka stood before the hut's door, giving her most doleful signal
of distress. Against the dark background the outline of the beast's
gray form was plainly visible; we could even see her shake her drooping
ears. She must have noticed us, for though we did not call her, she
started down the rough and tiresome road to her old nurse.
"'Are you coming, too?' said the old woman. 'Are you thirsty, because I
forgot to fill your pail? Do you see, sir, that I am right? Minka has
human reason. She too would make an end of her trouble and misery. And
it is better so; it will take her at once from her suffering, and I--do
you know, that I believe even yet that donkeys go to heaven? If not,
why have they human reason? Who knows, when he fears to die, that it is
really the end? And now look at Minka, how steadily she trots toward
the black water. Come, Minka, come, poor fool! We will help you down.'
"The brute came to the stone where the old woman was crouching. It
thrust its large head in her lap, and fell on its knees. The old woman
helped it up again.
"'Come, Minka,' she repeated, 'it will do no harm, and perhaps may help
you to eternal happiness. Hannah has gone before, with little Mary.
Mother Betsey will soon follow.'
"She drew the reluctant animal to the edge of the pond and tried to
force it in. But entreaties and caresses were as vain as the pushes and
blows to which she finally resorted. The poor victim, its whole body
trembling, braced all four feet against the bank and gave a piteous
cry. The old woman cast an imploring glance at me.
"'You have a gun at your back, sir. Will you not do my Minka this last
kindness, and help her to her salvation? The Lord God will repay you
the little powder and lead which you spend on a tortured creature; and
if there is justice, and we meet again up yonder, Minka, too, will not
be wanting, and then you shall see that, after the ass that bore our
Lord into Jerusalem, there will be none more beautiful than Minka in
all Paradise.'
"How could I withstand such a touching request? I cocked my gun, came
close to the good creature, and shot a bullet through its head. It fell
headlong into the water; the gray head appeared for an instant, then
sank and left no trace.
"The old woman fell upon her knees; I saw her fold her withered hands
and move her lips silently. Undoubtedly, she breathed a prayer for
Minka's departed soul.
"Then she arose wearily. 'I thank you, sir,' she said. 'You have just
done me a greater kindness than when you sent me the money. When you go
home give my respects to the lady baroness. Tell her I need nothing
more. Three are already at rest, and the fourth will not delay long.
And so may God preserve you. I am freezing. I shall go back to the
house and warm myself a little. The night will be cold and the house is
empty. May God reward you a thousandfold, sir! No; you shall not go
with me! I have no one, and the cursed music will let me sleep very
well if I stop my ears tightly enough. Good-night, sir! Rest well. And
the Lord God above will understand and deal kindly with us. Amen!'
"She crossed herself and bowed quietly. Then she climbed the slope
across the meadow, and I watched her until she reached her hut above
and closed the door behind her.
"I myself returned to the path in a state of mind that baffles
description. The universal misery of mankind was about the drift of it.
But other elements mingling with it gave the peculiar experience
something at once grotesque and awful. A professional psychologist
would have had difficulty in understanding it.
"Fortunately the weather took care that I did not lose myself in this
bottomless pit of fruitless speculation. Just as I reached the first
houses, the rain began to fall in such torrents that I was obliged to
seek shelter and wait until the storm should abate before attempting to
return to the estate. Naturally, I hastened to the inn. I had a certain
curiosity to see the famous judge's son on this day, when his old
sweetheart had quietly taken herself out of the world to make room for
his new one.
"It was a middle-class wedding of the usual sort. I looked through
the open door into the hall, where the table had been removed to
make room for the dancers. The wedding pair immediately struck my eyes,
not unfavorably either; he was precisely such a man as I imagined,
curly-headed, therefore popular among women, and with a frivolous,
insolent face; on the whole, a good-looking rascal of the most common
type. The young wife in her myrtle wreath, a provincial beauty,
appeared much in love with her husband, but, from continual dancing
with him, was too red and overheated to be lovely. Since she was rich,
the husband had in fact obtained a better lot than his villainous deed
warranted, and it was hardly to be expected that compensating justice
would make him do penance for his sins through this marriage. He did
not seem to be a man who would endure such penance calmly, much less
pass even one sleepless night in useless thoughts upon the moral system
of the world.
"The wretch disgusted me. Joining the peasants in the bar-room below, I
drank my glass of beer in a very bitter mood, while the floor above
creaked and trembled under the stamping and springing of the dancers,
and the rain beat against the windows. This continued for more than an
hour; then the rain ceased, the clouds moved towards the mountains, and
the moon appeared. I decided to look about for a team, since the roads
were now unfit for walking, and the wedding uproar made the prospect of
a night here intolerable.
"Fortunately, just as I was going out to inquire for a teamster,
I found my brother-in-law's coachman before the door with the
hunting-wagon, my sister having sent him to bring me home. Both he and
his horses needed a rest and a thorough drying. The homeward journey
was so slow that I found everyone at the house asleep, and could not
tell my horrible experience of the previous day till the following
morning as we three sat at breakfast.
"We were still under the influence of the strange tragedy--my sister,
who had visited the 'four females' once during the summer, being
affected even to tears--when the door opened, and my brother-in-law's
steward entered. 'I merely wish to announce, Herr Baron,' he said,
'that there has been a fire during the night. God be thanked, it has
not spread, and was not on our estate. But Mother Betsey's house is
burned.'
"We looked at one another confounded.
"'How did the fire start, and was any one injured?' asked my
brother-in-law.
"The man shook his head.
"'They know nothing positively, Herr Baron,' he said. 'At midnight, as
the last dance was being played down in the inn--the judge's son was
holding his wedding feast--they suddenly heard the fire-bells ring from
the towers, and, rushing out, they saw Mother Lamitz's old hut up on
the forest edge in bright flames. The fire streamed as quietly into the
sky as if from a wood-pile, and although half the village was on foot,
and the fire engine was dragged up the mountain, they could do nothing
whatever, the flames having already devoured the last corner of the old
rookery. It was only when there was nothing left to save that they
mastered the fire; the ground walls, about a man's height, alone remain
standing, if they too have not fallen by this time. At first there
seemed to be nothing left of the women and the child. At length some
one discovered in the corner where the loom had stood a ghastly heap of
ashes and blackened bones, undoubtedly the remains of old Betsey, who,
as old women can never be warm enough, probably heated the oven so hot
that the rotten thing burst and the flames reached the rafters of the
loom. She must have been quickly suffocated by the smoke and have died
without further pain. But what became of her daughter and the little
one nobody knows, and as for the donkey, which she esteemed so highly,
not the smallest piece of its hide or bones can be discovered!'"
ROTHENBURG ON THE TAUBER
ROTHENBURG ON THE TAUBER.
It was Easter Tuesday. The people who had celebrated this feast of
resurrection by an open-air excursion in the gayly blossoming
springtime were thronging back to their houses and the work-day
troubles of the morrow. All the highroads swarmed with carriages and
pedestrians, and the railroads were overcrowded in spite of the extra
trains; for it was many years since there had been such continuously
lovely Easter weather.
The evening express, standing in the Ansbach station ready to depart in
the direction of Wuerzburg, was twice as long as usual. Nevertheless,
every seat appeared to be occupied, when a straggler of the second
class, trying to enter at the last moment, knocked in vain at every
door, and peered into each _coupe_, meeting everywhere a more or less
ungracious or mischievous shrug of the shoulders. Finally, the guard at
his side made a sudden decision, opened a _coupe_ of the first class,
shoved the late-comer into the dim interior, and slammed the door just
as the train began to move.
A woman who, curled up like a black lizard, had been slumbering in the
opposite corner suddenly started up and cast an angry look at the
unwelcome disturber of her solitude.
However, the blonde young man in plain Sunday clothing, with a
portfolio under his arm and a worn-out travelling satchel with
old-fashioned embroidery in his hand, seemed to strike her as nothing
remarkable. She replied to his courteous greeting and awkward excuse
with a haughty, scarcely perceptible inclination of her head; drew her
wrap's black silk hood once more over her forehead, and prepared to
continue her interrupted slumber as unconcernedly as if, instead of a
new fellow-traveller, merely one more piece of luggage had been put in
the compartment.
The young man, feeling that he was regarded as an intruder, took good
care not to remind her of his presence by any unnecessary noise;
indeed, for the first five minutes, although he had been running
violently, he held his breath as long as he could, and remained
steadily in the uncomfortable position which he had at first assumed.
He merely took off his hat, and wiped the perspiration from his brow
with a handkerchief, looking discreetly out of the window the while, as
if he could only atone for his appearance in a higher sphere by the
most modest behavior. But since the sleeper did not stir, and the
passing landscape outside had no charm for him, he finally ventured to
turn his eyes toward the interior of the _coupe_; and, after having
sufficiently admired the broad, red plush cushions and the mirror on
the wall, he even dared to look more closely at the stranger, slowly
and cautiously surveying her from the tip of the tiny shoe peeping from
beneath her gown, to her shoulders, and at length to the fine lines of
the face turned towards him.
Undoubtedly a very high-born dame--that was instantly clear to
him--and, furthermore, a Russian, Pole, or Spaniard. Everything she had
on and about her bore the stamp of an aristocratic origin;--her gown;
the fine red travelling satchel against which she placed her tiny feet
so regardlessly; the elegant tan gloves whereon she was resting her
cheek. Moreover, a peculiar fragrance, not of any aromatic essence, but
of Russia leather and cigarettes, surrounded her, and on the carpet of
the _coupe_ there actually lay several white half-smoked stumps,
scattered about with their ashes and some Russian tobacco. A book had
also fallen on the floor. Unable to content himself with letting it lie
there, he picked it up carefully and saw that it was a French novel.
All this filled him with that secretly pleasing horror apt to seize
young men who have been brought up in provincial circles, when they are
unexpectedly brought into contact with a woman of the fashionable
world. To the natural power of woman over man is then added the
romantic charm which the unknown and independent customs, the imagined
passionate joys and sorrows of the upper classes, exercise over a
fledgeling of the lower. The gulf yawning between the two classes
merely increases this attraction; for, the opportunity sometime
offering, the man probably feels a visionary, foolhardly desire to show
his strength and cross the seemingly impassable abyss.
To be sure, the young traveller did not contemplate any such
adventurous boldness. But when he was sufficiently convinced that the
sleep of his strange neighbor was unfeigned, he quietly drew from his
vest pocket a small book bound in gray linen, and furtively began to
sketch the sleeper's fine and pale, though somewhat haughty, profile.
It was no light undertaking, although the rapid motion of the express
helped him over several difficulties. He was obliged to keep himself
half-poised on the seat and make each stroke with unerring certainty.
But the head was well worth the trouble; and as, peering through the
dim light, he studied the quiet face lightly framed by the folds of the
hood, he said to himself that he had never seen such classic features
on any living being. She seemed somewhat past her first youth, and the
mouth with its delicate lips occasionally assumed, even in sleep, a
peculiar expression of bitterness or disgust; but the brow, the shape
of the eyes, and the rich masses of soft, wavy hair were still
remarkably beautiful.
He had drawn zealously for about ten minutes and had almost finished
the sketch, when the sleeper roused herself calmly, and demanded in the
best of German:
"Do you know, sir, that it is not allowable to rob travellers in their
sleep?"
The poor offender, greatly confused, let the book sink upon his knee,
and said, blushing furiously: "Pardon me, my lady, I did not think--I
believed--it is merely a very hasty sketch--merely for remembrance."
"Who gave you the right to remember me, and to assist your memory so
obviously?" replied the woman, measuring him somewhat coldly and
scornfully with her keen blue eyes.
She gradually raised herself to an upright position; and as the hood
fell upon her shoulders, he saw the fine contour of her head, and in
spite of his embarrassment, continued to study her with an artist's
eye.
"In truth, I must confess that I have behaved like a veritable
highwayman," he replied, trying to turn the matter into a jest; "but
perhaps you will allow mercy to precede justice, when I return my
booty, not with intent to propitiate justice, but to show you how
little it is that I have appropriated."
He offered her the open sketch-book. She cast a hasty glance at her
picture; then nodded kindly, though with a quick gesture of rejection.
"It is like," she said, "but idealized. You are a portrait painter,
sir?"
"No, my lady; in that case I could have made the sketch really
characteristic. I paint architectural pictures mainly. But just because
my eyes are sharpened for beautiful proportions and graceful lines, and
as they are not found in a human face every day--"
At a loss for a conclusion, he stared at the tip of his boot, attempted
to smile, and blushed again.
Without noticing this, the stranger said, "Doubtless you have some of
your sketches and paintings in that portfolio there. May I see them?"
"Certainly." He handed her the portfolio, and spread the contents sheet
by sheet before her. They were mere aquarelles, representing in a
versatile manner and with thoroughly artistic conception old buildings,
Gothic turrets, and streets of gabled houses. The stranger allowed one
after the other to pass, without addressing any questions to the
artist. But she studied many pages for a long time, and returned them
with a certain hesitation.
"The things are not perfectly finished yet," said he, excusing this and
that hasty study, "but they all belong to the same cycle. I availed
myself of Easter day to talk them over with an art-dealer in Nuremberg.
I wish to publish all these sketches in chromo-lithographic work. To be
sure, I have many predecessors, but Rothenburg is not even yet as well
known as it deserves to be."
"Rothenburg?"
"Certainly. These are all views from Rothenburg. I thought you knew it,
my lady, as you did not ask."
"Rothenburg? Where is it?"
"Oh, on the Tauber, not many hours' journey from here. But really, do
you not know it? Have you never even heard the name?"
"You must pardon my ignorance," she replied, with a slight smile, "as I
am not a German. But I have been with Germans very often, and confess
to you, I never heard the name of Rothenburg on the--how was it?--on
the Tauber?--until now."
He laughed, losing his timidity at once as he realized his advantage
over this elegant woman on such an important point.
"Pardon me," he said, "for having behaved to you as all Rothenburgers
do to strangers, even though my cradle did not stand on the banks of
the Tauber. We are all so infatuated with our city, that we can
scarcely imagine how our feeling appears to people who know nothing of
Rothenburg. When I went there for the first time nine years ago, I
myself knew little more of the old 'imperial' town than that it stood,
like Jerusalem, upon a high plateau rising from the river valley; was
even yet fortified with walls and towers as for the last half-thousand
years; and had the honor, once upon a time, to count the founder of my
race among its citizens. Permit me to introduce myself to you: my name
is Hans Doppler."
He bowed smilingly, looking at her as if he expected that this name
would arouse in her a joyful excitement, somewhat as if he had confided
that his name was Hans Columbus or Gutenberg. But her expression did
not change in the least.
"Doppler," he continued, somewhat hesitatingly, "is merely the new
version of the name Toppler, and was introduced during the last century
in the collateral line to which I belong. Yet it is authentically
certain that the founder of our family was no less a person than the
great burgomaster of Rothenburg, Heinrich Toppler, of whom you have
undoubtedly heard."
She shook her head, evidently amused by his naive confidence.
"I regret that my historical knowledge is just as defective as my
geographical. But what did your ancestor do, that it is a disgrace not
to know of him?"
"Do not fear, my lady," said he, now laughing at his own pretensions,
"that from mere family pride I would bore you with a piece of
Rothenburg history. That pride has good reason to be humbled; for I
myself, as you see me, have nothing at all to govern in my ancestral
home; but, for that very reason, I need not expect to be imprisoned and
delivered up to death from hunger or poison by my fellow-citizens, as
my ancestor was, after he had increased the good old town's military
renown. A horrible end, was it not, my lady? A fine return for so many
brave deeds! And all because of a mere slander. He was said to have
lost the town to a certain prince in a game of dice; but not a word of
it was true. In the ancient language, Doppler, to be sure, meant dice,
and in our family arms--"
He stopped suddenly, for it seemed to him that the lady's delicate
nostrils were trembling in the effort to conceal a yawn. Somewhat
mortified, he turned his attention to his aquarelles, and arranged them
in the portfolio which he was still holding in his hand.
"And how did it happen," she then asked, "that you inherited this
unjustly murdered man's estate? Did they wish to repay to you the wrong
they did your ancestor?"
"You err, my lady," he said, "if you believe that Rothenburg would feel
any honor about having a Doppler once more among them, or would allow
this honor to cost them anything. When I, as I told you, merely curious
to see the old fortress, strolled through the ancient gateway nine
years ago, not a person there knew me, and even when I mentioned my
name, they made little fuss about it. Indeed, as I was born in
Nuremberg, and no longer have the T in my name, they greatly doubted
that I really belonged to them. But, as the poet says, the history of
the world is the final judgment; and what the magistrate of Rothenburg
neglected to do--that is, to meet me ceremoniously, surrender to me for
my sole possession the houses which the great burgomaster had owned,
and support me for my lifetime as a living part of the city--fate, or
providence, whichever you wish, did in another way.
"I came to Rothenburg merely to make a few studies and to take a look
at the old-fashioned nest, and I found there my life's happiness and a
warm, new nest of my own, to which I am now returning."
"May I know how it happened?"