VI.

AFTER resting a few moments, Cristiano--we will hereafter call him

Christian--continued his narrative as follows:

“But I must not forget to tell you of a well-known individual whom I

happened to meet at this time; an interesting encounter that reconciled

me for some days longer to my wandering life. The person to whom I

refer is a very remarkable man, who still holds a most respectable

position in Paris, and whose name is no doubt known to you: I mean

Philip Ledru, commonly called Comus.”

“Certainly,” said M. Goefle; “I have seen it stated in my scientific

journal that this skilful prestigiator was a profound physicist, and

that his researches upon the magnet had enriched science with various

new instruments of rare perfection. Is it the same person?”

“The same, M. Goefle. Comus has been appointed professor to the young

French princes; he has prepared a set of nautical charts upon a new

system, the result of an immense series of researches, undertaken by

the king’s order, and has furnished M. de la Perouse with a set of

manuscript copies of these charts. Indeed, ever since the time when I

first encountered him travelling about the country, in the character

of a poor but learned man, furnishing the public with instruction in

the form of amusement, he has steadily and rapidly risen in the public

esteem, in the favor of the ministry, and in the command of means for

making practical the results of his profound knowledge.

“I first met this really great man, not exactly in the public streets

of Lyons, but in a hall intended for the representations of wandering

performers, and which we both wished to hire for our several purposes.

As I was used to a good deal of absurdity or else coarseness on the

part of such competitors, I was quite on my guard; but as soon as Comus

addressed me, I was struck by his charming and even distinguished

manners. He was a man of about thirty-five years of age, and had a

magnificent constitution. Equally vigorous in body and in mind, equally

quick in his movements and ready and agreeable in conversation, he

was, in a word, one of those admirably endowed human beings who must

from necessity emerge from obscurity. He inquired about my employment,

and seemed astonished to find that I was sufficiently educated to be

able to converse with him. I told him about my circumstances, and he

conceived a friendship for me.

“After coming to one of our performances, with which he was greatly

diverted, he invited us, in his turn, to attend his exhibition. This I

witnessed, much to my advantage, for Comus possessed various secrets

known only to himself; which, however, consisted merely in some single

application, out of a thousand, of his own profound discoveries. He was

very willing to explain them to me, and finding that I was not without

intelligence, he invited me to be his associate--to share with him his

projects and adventures. I declined this proposition with regret, and

to my own loss; with regret, because Comus was one of the best, the

most disinterested, and the most sympathetic men I have ever known;

and to my own loss, because, although then a travelling exhibitor in

natural science, he was a person who could not fail before long to find

some serious and useful employment for his great talents. I had sworn

to Massarelli not to desert him, and he had no taste for the sciences.

“This meeting, which I was not wise enough to turn to account as far

as regards my material interests, was so beneficial to me in a moral

point of view, that I shall always thank God for it. Allow me to repeat

to you, as briefly as possible, the advice which this judicious and

excellent man was so kind as to give me--in the pleasantest and most

friendly way, and without a tinge of pedantry--during a quiet supper

that we took together at the inn, amongst the chests that contained our

baggage; for we were ready to start on the next morning.

“‘My dear Goffredi,’ he said, ‘I am sorry to part with you so soon;

the grief that you feel I share with my whole heart. We have been

together only for a few days, but in that time I have learned to know

and to appreciate you. But do not be uneasy or discouraged about your

future life. It will be prosperous, if it is useful. You see that

my advice is very different from what is usually given; but, if you

follow it, you will find that it is dictated by sound common sense.

Others will tell you to sacrifice everything to ambition; I tell you

to give all your true interests precedence before ambition--as it is

commonly understood. I mean to say this: be perfectly indifferent

both to fortune and fame, and pursue only one single object, that of

enlightening your fellow-men, no matter by what means, and no matter

in what condition they may be. All means are good and noble which seek

this end. You are only a buffoon, and I am only a sorcerer! Very good;

we will laugh at our pursuits, and persevere in them, as long as the

marionettes and the juggling can be made subservient to good ends. What

I tell you now is the secret of being happy in spite of everything. For

my part, I understand only two principles, and these constitute but one

and the same precept: to love mankind, and to take no account of their

prejudices. Contempt for error is esteem for man, is it not? Possessed

of this secret, you will always be sufficiently rich and sufficiently

famous. As for the lost time that you have been regretting, you are

quite young enough to make up for it. I, also, at one time, was a

little frivolous; a little vain of my youth, a little proud of my

strength! But, after wasting rather foolishly my patriotism and

enthusiasm in the flower of my age, I retrieved my errors, and since

then have advanced steadily. My organization is vigorous, and so is

yours. I work twelve hours a day, and any one can do as much who is

not feeble or ill. Apply yourself to study, and leave silly minds to

seek after pleasure. They will not find it where they look for it, and

you will find it where it is; that is, in a quiet conscience and the

exercise of your nobler faculties!’

“Having thus spoken, Comus divided his receipts into two different

sums, the one large and the other small: the latter he kept for

himself; but the former he sent as a gift to the hospitals of the city.

I was very much struck with the simplicity and cheerfulness with which

he made this disposition of his money, as if performing an habitual

and indispensable duty, and one so natural that it did not even occur

to him to conceal it. I reproached myself also for having forgotten

for so long a time the precepts and examples of my dear friends, the

Goffredis; for all that M. Comus said and did reminded me of them. Thus

it was, M. Goefle, that a wandering juggler preached to and converted a

highway improvisatore.

“We reached Paris after a journey that had lasted three months, and

which I recall as one of the most agreeable experiences of my life.

I had not wasted my time on the road, for I had studied carefully

both nature and society, as far as they were accessible to one who,

without claiming remarkable perspicacity, is not more obtuse than his

neighbors. I had taken notes, and fancied, since I had something to say

and felt competent to say it, that I would have no sort of difficulty

in living by my pen in the centre of letters and of arts.

“It was a sombre and melancholy autumn day when we entered the great

city. I found it hard to imagine that any one could become accustomed

to such a climate, and Guido, from the very first, showed visible signs

of gloom and discouragement. We hired a miserable little furnished

room at a very high rate, and having taken possession, we adjusted

our toilettes somewhat, dismantled our theatre, and locked the

_burattini_ in a box. It was our purpose to sell the establishment

to some mountebank; and for a few days we devoted ourselves to studying

the language, and visiting the monuments, exhibitions, and curiosities

of the French metropolis.

“At the end of eight days our little capital was sadly diminished,

and the worst of it was that I could see no means of renewing it.

I found that my hopes had deceived me, or rather that I had not

formed a true conception of what a really great city is, and of the

frightful isolation into which a stranger, without means, friends, or

recommendations, almost necessarily falls. I inquired about Comus,

hoping that he would help me to find employment, but he had not yet

returned from his tour, and, moreover, he had at that time only a

provincial reputation. I sent also for the papers of Silvio Goffredi,

proposing, by means of them, to publish under his name the results

of his historical researches. I did not expect any pecuniary profit

to accrue from this effort, but I hoped both to fulfil a duty and

to secure an honorable position and a few friends. There were still

several persons in Italy who retained their former regard for me.

They sent the papers at my request, but the parcel was lost; it never

reached me. My letters to the cardinal and to my young pupil remained

unanswered, and others to whom I wrote confined themselves to empty

professions of regard, but without venturing to commit themselves so

far as to recommend me to such persons of good standing of my own

nation as happened to be in Paris. Indeed, they advised me not to draw

upon myself the observation of our ambassador, lest he should feel it

his duty (he was a relative of Marco Melfi) to obtain a _lettre de

cachet_ from the king of France for my benefit.

“As soon as I realized what my position was, I resolved to rely upon

myself alone; and you may rest assured, Monsieur Goefle, that I deserve

some credit for maintaining my integrity under such circumstances; so

abandoned, and reduced to such cruel straits in a city so luxurious

and full of temptations as Paris! Only a short time before I had been

living under a splendid sky; a guest in palaces! Then, a careless

traveller, I had wandered through enchanted lands; but now I was the

gloomy and dejected tenant of a garret, struggling with cold, famine,

and sometimes with disgust and discouragement. And yet, thanks to God,

I came through victorious; that is to say, I did not cheat anybody, and

did not die of starvation. I succeeded in having a few little books

published, and though I did not make any money by them, they gave me

something of a position in a small circle of humble and modest men of

science. I had the honor of furnishing, indirectly, the materials for

a number of articles in the Encyclopedia, on natural science and on

Italian antiquities. A marquis of literary taste employed me as his

secretary, and clothed me decently; and so I was once more afloat. If

dress is not everything in Paris, it is safe to say, at least, that

a respectable exterior is indispensable to one who would escape from

poverty. Now, thanks to my marquis and my coat, society was once more

open to me. This was another dangerous rock, and I once more risked

being shipwrecked. Pray do not think me conceited if I say that it

would have been much more to my advantage in some respects, if I had

been as ugly and as awkward as your friend Stangstadius. A good-looking

man without means, in society as it is now constituted, will everywhere

find a door open to fortune--and to shame. No matter how circumspect he

may be, he is sure to find himself pursued at every step by the eager

and determined women of gallantry who swarm in great cities. Had I not

been protected by the memory of the chaste and proud Sophia, I might

probably have suffered myself to be enticed into the labyrinths of

these insinuating and industrious animals.

“However, I overcame this danger; but after a year’s residence in

Paris, at the very moment when, thanks to my labor and economy, I

was in a fair way to receive an independent position, I was seized

with an extreme disgust for the city, and an unconquerable longing

to travel Massarelli was the chief cause of this disgust. He had

not, like myself, been able to endure the privations and anguish of

waiting. When we first began to be embarrassed, he carried off the

theatre of marionettes from our lodging, and tried to earn a living in

the public streets, amongst a class of people of the very worst sort.

Unfortunately for him, he had not taken much pains to correct his

accent, and he had no success. So he fell upon my hands again, and for

several months, while I was in the greatest difficulties myself, I was

obliged to feed and clothe him. At last, in spite of his constantly

renewed oaths of reformation, and his efforts to work with me, he

disappeared. But still, I did not get rid of him after all. Every few

weeks he came to beg from me, and sometimes he was intoxicated. I shut

the door in his face, but he dogged me about. At last, having contrived

to make a little money, by means of various infamous transactions, he

came once more, drunken and repentant, to weep in my bosom; he wanted

now to return all that I had given him, and, moreover, to share with

me _like a brother_! His money and his protestations disgusted me

equally, and I refused all overtures. He lost his temper, and wanted to

fight, but this I contemptuously refused. Then he undertook to strike

me, and I was obliged to give him a beating. Next day he wrote to ask

my forgiveness, but my patience was at an end; and as I used to meet

him everywhere, sometimes even in good society--God only knows how he

gained admission there--I was apprehensive of being compromised by some

knavish act upon his part. I had not the selfish fortitude to expose

publicly a man who had once been dear to me; and preferred rather to

give up the conflict, and retreat myself. Fortunately, I was now able

secure good recommendations, and, among others, those of Comus, who was

just then creating a great excitement in Paris with his exhibitions in

catoptrics--that is, a phantasmagoria managed by mirrors, in which,

instead of spectres and devils, he showed nothing but agreeable

and graceful figures. His remarkable intellect, and his habits of

penetrating observation, had given him such a power of judging the

faces of men, and such a knowledge of the human heart, that he could

read people’s very thoughts, almost as if endowed with an actual gift

of divination. Moreover, his profound studies in applied mathematics

enabled him to solve, while apparently merely performing diverting and

ingenious feats, various problems entirely beyond the comprehension of

ordinary people, and this skill many persons likened to magic.

“The age we live in is remarkably intelligent, and yet the love of

the marvellous--a sentiment offering a singular contrast to its other

tendencies, so powerful and ill-regulated in the past--still struggles

in many minds against the severer authority of reason. You know

something about this in your country, where your famous and learned

Swedenborg is still more sought for as a sorcerer than as a seer; while

he himself claimed to understand the secrets of another world. I do not

say that Comus is more sincere or more virtuous than Swedenborg, who

I know must be mentioned with entire respect, but he has more wisdom

and earnestness of purpose. He does not pretend to act in virtue of

any other laws than those which the human mind can discover; and he is

generous in communicating his secrets to scientific men and travellers,

who desire to utilize them in the cause of science.

“He received me with great kindness, and offered to take me with him

to England, to assist him in his experiments. I was strongly tempted

to accept, but my preferences led me to apply myself to mineralogy,

botany, and zoology; and also to the study of manners and of societies.

It seemed to me that England had been too thoroughly explored to

furnish a promising field for new observations. And besides, Comus

was at that time devoted to a special pursuit in which I did not

think I could be useful to him. He was going to London to superintend

personally the making of some very accurate instruments which he had

not been able to have manufactured to his satisfaction in Paris. I did

not like the idea of remaining for a year, or two years, in London;

I was tired of living in a great city; I felt a violent longing for

freedom, movement, above all for the privilege of being my own master.

Though I had every reason to be pleased with my employers up to this

time, I was so ill-suited to a dependent position that it really made

me ill.

“Comus introduced me to a great many eminent men; such as MM. de

Lacépède, Buffon, Daubenton, and Bernard de Jussieu. I took a lively

interest in the rapid and magnificent progress of the Jardin des

Plantes, and the zoölogical cabinet, which were daily being directed

and enriched by these noble and learned men. Splendid gifts from

wealthy persons in a private station in life, and the precious

contributions of travellers, were constantly being sent to them. An

irresistible ambition seized me to enroll myself in the number of these

promoters of science; these humble adepts, satisfied with benefiting

humanity, without demanding either glory or profit. I saw, indeed, the

‘tall man with ruffles,’ M. de Buffon, appropriating extensively, for

the gratification of his vanity, the patient and modest labors of his

associates. But suppose it is true that he had this weakness, that he

wished to be _M. le Comte_, and to exert the feudal rights of

his seigniory; that he sounded his own praises on every occasion, and

claimed the credit of works, which, very frequently, he had only been

consulted about;--what mattered it? This was his taste. It was not

that of his generous and intellectual companions. They smiled, let him

say what he pleased, and only worked the harder; fully persuaded that

individual interests are of no real importance in researches directed

towards the advancement of the human species. Thus they were happier

than he; their happiness was that which Comus understood, and to which

I aspired. It seemed to me that they had chosen the better part, and

I was ambitious to follow in their steps. I offered them my services,

therefore, after profiting to the best of my ability by their public

lectures and private conversations. M. Daubenton was of opinion that

my love of science and aptitude for the languages were qualities that

would insure my success, and that I ought to be encouraged. My poverty

was the only obstacle.

“‘Science is growing rich,’ he said proudly, as he looked at the

cabinet and garden, which were so rapidly increasing; ‘but scientific

men are rather too poor to be great travellers. Indeed, they live lives

of privation in every respect. You must be prepared for that.’

“I was prepared for everything. I had succeeded in saving a little

money, which, in my judgment, would go a great way, considering the

frugal sort of life from which I did not shrink. I secured a regular

appointment to a scientific mission, so as to avoid being taken for

a vagrant or a spy in foreign countries, and set out provided with

a year’s support, and leaving the rest to Providence. And yet with

the testimonials I carried, proving the innocent and honorable aim

of my wandering life, I should have been able to obtain more or less

pecuniary assistance from scientific bodies, and even from private

individuals friendly to science. But I was unwilling to make any such

demands, for I knew how greatly the Jussieu family had impoverished

itself in sacrifices of the kind, and I preferred to devote myself

exclusively at my own risk and peril.

“Thus, once more, began for me a series of happy days. The time before

me seemed infinite!--it would last, at least, as long as my resources.

This was not saying a great deal; and to prolong my journey, and fully

satisfy my passion for travelling, I practised, from the outset, the

strictest economy. At my very first stopping-place, I put on a stout,

coarse, mountain costume, bought an ass to carry the little baggage

that I had, my books, instruments, and specimens, and proceeded on

foot to the Swiss mountains. I will not dwell upon my labors, journeys

and adventures. Whenever I have leisure, I intend to write an account

of my travels; and even the recent loss of my journal will not be an

insurmountable obstacle, thanks to my uncommonly good memory. In these

solitary expeditions I recovered my excellent health, my careless ease,

my confidence in the future, my natural gayety; all the qualities that

my life in Paris had been gradually destroying. I felt that I was in

harmony with the memory of the Goffredis--that I was happy.

“My knowledge of botany and mineralogy was sufficient to enable me to

execute what I had promised in these two specialties; and moreover,

as I wasted no time in social indulgences, I had leisure to gratify

my inclinations as an observer, and somewhat also as an artist and

poet--that is, a person who feels the divine unity of the beauty of

nature. At each important stopping-place I forwarded reports, and even

specimens, to Paris, and I wrote long letters to M. Daubenton, well

knowing that the romantic impressions of a young man would not be

displeasing to him.

“At the end of nine or ten months, I had reached the Carpathians, still

accompanied by my ass, whom I found of the greatest service, and who

was so docile and well trained to follow me everywhere, that he was

never in my way. Just at this time, in a remote and lonely place, I met

a beggar with a long beard, who was no other than Guido Massarelli.

Divided between disgust and pity, I was hesitating whether to speak to

him, when he recognized me, and approached with an aspect so humble and

dejected, that pity carried the day. I was happy myself at that time,

and therefore kindly disposed. Seated on the grass in a grove of tall

trees, I was eating with a good appetite, while my ass was grazing a

few steps off. To enable him to rest better, I had taken off his load,

and had placed the pannier containing my provisions for the day between

my knees. There was not much in it, but enough for two. Massarelli

looked pale and feeble, as if dying of hunger.

“‘Sit down,’ I said, ‘and eat. I am quite certain it is through your

own fault that you have been brought into this miserable condition, but

it shall never be said that I did not help you once more.’

“He proceeded to tell his adventures, whether true or false,

acknowledging his faults in words of a base humility, and yet, in

fact, always excusing himself, by attributing them to the ingratitude

or harshness of others. I could only pity him for being what he was;

and after half an hour’s conversation, I gave him a few ducats and

resumed my journey. We were going in opposite directions, to my great

satisfaction; but I had not advanced a quarter of an hour when I was

seized with a vertigo that obliged me to stop, overcome with weariness

and a desire to sleep. I could not comprehend what had brought on this

sudden indisposition, for I had never had such an attack in my whole

life; and, having shared my bottle with Guido, I had scarcely drunk a

glass of wine. I supposed that it might be a sort of sun-stroke, or

was perhaps the effect of a poor night’s sleep at the inn where I had

stopped. At any rate, I laid down in the shade to take a nap. This

may have been imprudent in a place so extremely solitary, but it was

absolutely impossible for me to do otherwise; I was overcome by a heavy

and irresistible drowsiness, like that of intoxication.

“When I awoke, my head was still heavy and vacant, and in fact I was

feeling extremely ill; I was in the same place, but had been robbed of

everything. I thought at first that it was the evening twilight, and

that I had been asleep six hours; but when I saw the sun rising through

the fog, and the dew glittering on the grass, the certainty was forced

upon me that I had slept straight through a day and night. My ass had

disappeared as well as my baggage, my pockets were empty; nothing had

been left but the clothes on my back. While looking about, I observed

one valueless object which the thieves had overlooked, or thought not

worth taking. This was a little cocoa-nut cup which I always used in

travelling, to avoid the vulgar habit of drinking from a bottle. It

was this squeamishness that had cost me so dear; at a moment when my

back was turned, Guido had thrown a narcotic into my cup. Even now,

the bottom was lined with some kind of salt, crystallized. Guido

was evidently no beggar, but the captain of a band of robbers. The

footmarks all around me showed that a number of persons had been on the

spot.

“I examined the immediate vicinity closely, and at last espied

something written with chalk upon a rock near by. It was in Latin, and

to the following effect:

“‘My friend, I could have killed you, and it was my duty to do so; but

I pardon you. Sleep well.’

“It was the handwriting of Guido Massarelli. Why was it his duty to

have killed me? In return for the blows I had given him with my cane

at Paris? That is possible, for it is certainly true that the Italian

retains his revengeful disposition, and never forgets an injury, even

when his mind and character have been utterly corrupted. But what could

I do to revenge myself in my turn? There was nothing that would not

require time, money, and investigation, and I was without a sou, and

was beginning to feel hungry.

“‘Well,’ I thought, as I set out once more on my journey, ‘it was

written that one day or other I should beg. But in spite of bad luck, I

swear that I will not be a beggar long. I must find some new business,

and get on my feet again.’

“I made my way out of the mountains, and found a hospitable reception

with a family of kind peasants, who even obliged me to accept some

provisions for the road. They told me that a band of robbers infested

the country, and that their chief was called the ‘The Italian.’

“Still pushing on, I reached the province of Silesia. It was my

intention to enter a complaint in the first town I came to, and put the

authorities on the track of the robbers. As I walked along, thoughtful,

and absorbed in a thousand plans, all equally impracticable, for once

more filling my purse without appealing to public charity, I heard a

short, uneven gallop behind me, and, turning round, was astonished to

recognize my ass, my poor Jean, coming after me as well as he could,

for he was wounded. People usually despise the ass! They are welcome

to do so; but this animal, in my opinion, is almost as intelligent

as the dog. I had already had many convincing proofs that it is so,

while travelling with this faithful servant; and, on this occasion, he

showed that he was capable of feeling a reasonable attachment, and was

endowed with a mysterious and truly extraordinary instinct. Stolen

and carried off, he had undoubtedly run away, as soon as he had been

relieved of his load. The robbers had fired on him, but he had kept on,

disregarding their shots; he had found and followed my track, and now

rejoined me with a bullet in his thigh.

“I confess that we had a scene worthy of Sancho Panza and his ass; nay,

even more pathetic, for I had a wounded friend to assist. I extracted

the ball which had lodged in the thigh of my interesting companion, and

washed the wound with the most touching care. The poor beast submitted

to be treated and bandaged with the stoicism of his own species, and

with an intelligent confidence that is apparently not confined to ours.

Now that I had recovered my ass, I was not entirely without resources.

When the ball was extracted, he stopped limping. He was an uncommonly

handsome animal, large and strong, and would be worth--. But I did not

go so far as to embody in precise figures this cowardly and detestable

idea! To my honor, I would state that I rejected it with indignation.

There could be no question of selling my friend; the only problem was

to feed two stomachs instead of one.

“I advanced towards Troppau as I best could. Jean ate thistles along

the road, and I deprived myself of part of my allowance of bread, so

as to supply him with a delicacy in his convalescence. At Troppau the

common people took pity on me, and provided me with food and lodging,

with that charity which is so highly valued and so meritorious among

the poor. The authorities of the town gave but little credit to my

story. My coarse garments were those of a pedestrian, and I had no

documents whatever to prove that I was a person of studious pursuits,

and entitled to confidence. I talked well, it is true: too well for

a rustic; but these frontier countries are overrun by innumerable

dexterous adventurers. Only a little while before, they informed me,

an Italian, claiming to be a great nobleman, had given out that he had

been robbed in the mountains, and it was afterwards discovered that he

was the chief of the very band he had pretended to denounce.

“I thought it best not to press the matter; for, from the recollection

of Guido Massarelli, to the suspicion that I was associated with him,

there was but a step. So I returned to my poor entertainers. They

received me very kindly, blamed the conduct of their magistrates, and

looking covetously at Jean, added:

“‘Fortunately your ass is left, and you can sell him.’

“Seeing that I was not inclined to take their hint, they proceeded to

make me a proposition, in the guise of advice. I might remain with

them, they said, for two or three months, if I could be contented with

their way of living. During this time I could look for work, if there

was anything I was able to do; and if I could pay my expenses at the

end of the term agreed upon, I would not be obliged to leave Jean as

an equivalent. This was good advice, and I accepted it; resolving,

however, that I would dig in the earth, if necessary, so as to release

my pledge, poor Jean, who was still useful to his master.

“My landlord was a shoemaker. In order to show that I was not idle, I

asked whether I could help him in any way, though I did not know his

trade.

“‘I see that you are a good fellow,’ he said, ‘for you have an honest

face. There’s a fair to-morrow in a village two leagues from here, to

which I shall not be able to go. Load your ass with my goods, go in my

stead, and sell all the shoes you can. You shall have ten per cent. of

the profits.’

“The next morning I was at my post selling shoes, as if I had never

done nothing else in my whole life. I knew nothing at all about the

tricks peculiar to this sort of business, whether conducted on a small

or grand scale, but it occurred to me to pay all the women compliments

on their little feet; and the people were so amused by my extravagant

nonsense, that my entire load was disposed of in a few hours. In the

evening I returned gayly home to my employer, who was surprised at my

success, and obstinately refused to let me deduct the price of my board

from my share of the profits.

“Once more, therefore, I was provided with a trade, and a supply

of pocket-money sufficient for the necessities of my new position.

Hans, my employer, now sent me on a three days’ tour through the

neighborhood, and I succeeded in selling off some old stock that had

been on his hands a long time. On my return, he paid me more than he

had agreed, but when I said something about leaving him, he flew into

a tremendous passion, and then shed tears; he treated me, in short,

like an ungrateful son, and ended by offering to give me his daughter

in marriage, if I would remain. The girl was pretty, and threw me

artless and tender glances. I behaved like a fool, or so my former gay

companions would have said. It is certain that I did not even attempt

to kiss her, and that I made my escape in the night, taking with me

Jean and two rix dollars, and leaving an equal sum behind me to pay my

board at the house of the good shoemaker of Troppau.

“It was quite indifferent to me where I went, provided only that I

could obtain sufficient means to continue my journey without being

obliged to confide to the persons in the various towns of Germany

and Poland to whom I had brought letters of introduction, a story of

disaster, of which I could furnish no proof, except my destitution. The

suspicions of the burgomasters of Troppau had cured me of the idea of

relating my misfortunes. My testimonials were lost, and I had nothing

but probable assertions with which to replace them. Now, no story ever

seems probable when you are asking assistance. However, this did not

make me at all unhappy. I was already accustomed to my situation, and

had one more occasion in my life to observe that to-morrow always comes

for those who have patience with to-day.

“Two days later, I entered a poor tavern, and sat down at a table.

Opposite me was a short, strong-built young fellow, who was seated with

his elbows leaning on the table, and who seemed to be asleep. They

brought me a pot of beer and some bread and cheese, for which I paid

a half-zwanziger. On this allowance I had money enough to last eight

days. When the landlady spoke to the young man at the other side of

the table he made no reply, and a little after, as he raised his head,

I saw that he had been crying.

“‘You are hungry,’ I said to him, ‘and have no money to pay for your

supper.’

“‘Fact!’ he answered, laconically.

“‘Very well,’ I replied, ‘where there’s enough for one, there’s enough

for two. Help yourself.’

“Without answering a word, he drew a knife from his pocket and cut

into my bread and cheese. When he had eaten in silence, he thanked me

briefly, and with an appearance of sincerity, and I had the curiosity

to ask him the cause of his distress. He told me his name--I forget

what it was--but the name he was travelling under was Puffo. He was

from Leghorn--a rather poor recommendation, at least in Italy, for

persons of a certain class. In the opinion of the sailors all along

the Mediterranean coast, to call a man a _Livornese_ is almost

equivalent to calling him a pirate. My friend probably would have

justified the prejudice; he had been a sailor, and a little of a

freebooter. At present he was a strolling mountebank.

“I listened to him without much interest, for he did not narrate

well, and it is only the way in which they are told that gives any

value to the stories of such adventurers; in substance they are all

pretty much the same. However, when this man began to speak about his

unprofitable theatre, I pricked up my ears and asked him what sort of

representations he gave.

“‘_Mon Dieu!_’ he cried, ‘that’s the kind, and it’s the worst

business I ever had anything to do with. The devil take the man who put

it into my head!’

“As he spoke, he pulled a marionette from his bag, and threw it angrily

on the table.

“An exclamation of surprise escaped me. This marionette, frightfully

dirty and worn out, was my own handiwork. It was a _burattino_ of

my own make! Yes, indeed, it was my leading character, the chief of my

company, my own witty and charming Stentarello, the ornament of all my

performances in the towns of the Apennines, the darling of the pretty

Genoese women, the child of my scissors and my fancy, the very pillar

of my theatre.

“‘What!’ I cried, ‘you wretched fellow! You own Stentarello, and can’t

make money with him?’

“‘They told me,’ he replied, ‘that he had made a great deal of money in

Italy. The man who sold him to me in Paris said that he had bought him

of a well-dressed Italian gentleman, who declared that he had made his

fortune with him. Perhaps it was you?’

“He went on to say that he had been quite successful in France in

the public streets with our theatre and actors; and that as he knew

several languages, he had tried travelling abroad, but that fortune had

deserted him; he had gone on from bad to worse, up to the very moment

when I met him. He had now resolved to sell ‘the shop,’ as he called

it, and to try and train a bear, which he intended to catch in the

mountains.

“‘Come,’ said I, ‘show me your theatre, and let me see what you can do.’

“He accordingly took me to a barn, where I helped him set up his

establishment; and I recognized the best members of my troupe among

wretched ordinary marionettes, covered with rags and injuries. Puffo

proceeded to play me a scene as a specimen of his powers. He manœuvred

the _burattini_ dexterously enough, and was not without a

certain coarse wit, but it really pained me to the heart to see my

actors fallen into such hands, and reduced to playing such parts.

But when I thought about it, I saw that Providence must have brought

us together--myself and my actors--for our mutual good. I proceeded

at once to give a representation in the village, and received in all

a ducat for it, to the utter stupefaction of Puffo, who from that

moment entirely abandoned to my guidance theatre, actors, and even the

responsibility of his own destiny.

“I now felt that I was really under the protection of heaven, for I

had found once more the means of prosecuting my travels with comfort,

without incurring any indebtedness, and without exposing my name and

my features to the caprice of the public. In a very few days all the

marionettes were dismounted, cleaned, fresh painted, new clothed, and

properly packed in a convenient and portable chest; the theatre was

refitted in like manner, and enlarged to admit two operators. Puffo I

engaged as an assistant, his duty being to keep the establishment in

good order, to take charge of it, and, at the same time, to carry part

of it on his stout shoulders, as he was already in the habit of doing;

for I was more than ever determined to devote Jean to the service of

science, and to employ him in carrying the materials and specimens

which I was collecting.

“Puffo is certainly a poor assistant. He is slow-witted, and yet he

never breaks down; for he has the gift of talking without saying

anything. He has a bad accent in every language; but, at any rate, he

can make himself understood in several, which is a great point, and

his chief recommendation. In the dialogue he takes but little part,

but I have succeeded in curing him of his coarse habit of swearing.

I put into his hands the popular, low comedy scenes, which serve as

interludes, to give me a few minutes’ rest. When three or four actors

are on the stage, I make use of his hands, and carry on all the parts

of the conversation myself, with sufficient skill to persuade the

audience that they are listening to several different voices. But

you have seen my performances, M. Goefle, and know that I succeed

in amusing. However, we did nothing very remarkable in Germany, and

it occurred to me that perhaps we should do better in Poland, for

the Poles have the wit of the French and the taste of Italians. We

accordingly traversed Poland, and at Dantzig, after a successful tour

of six weeks, embarked for Stockholm, where we have done extremely

well. It was while there that I received the invitation of the Baron de

Waldemora. I accepted it with pleasure, knowing that it would enable

me to see a country which I have found more interesting than any that

I have hitherto visited. I have always loved the north, whether from

the strong contrasts which it offers to southern countries, or from

a patriotic instinct that has influenced me ever since my childhood.

And yet nothing is less certain than the northern origin which was

attributed to my childish language--altered, imperfectly spoken, or

half-forgotten as it was--by the learned philologist to whom I have

referred. No matter; whether dream or presentiment, I have always

beheld in imagination the romantic country which is now before my eyes;

and it was by way of affording myself a pleasure-trip that I lengthened

my present journey. I came across Lake Malar, and thence down to Lake

Wetter, so as to explore the whole region of the great lakes.

“It was, however, written that I was to be pursued by mishaps.

Puffo, who has grown fat since I have supported him, and who is

beginning to be afraid of fatigue, wanted to hire a sleigh to cross

that mysterious Lake Wetter, whose depths are apparently troubled by

volcanic disturbances. The ice broke in, and I lost my clothes and

my money. Fortunately, Puffo was at that moment walking, and helped

out the driver, but the horse and sleigh were lost. Fortunately also,

I had followed the shore, with Jean, the theatre, my actors, and my

scientific materials. So, thank heaven, all is not lost, and to-morrow

I shall be in funds again, for I am to give a representation, for a sum

agreed upon, at the chateau of the Snow Man.”

“Well,” said M. Goefle, as he once more took the hand of Christian

Waldo, “your story has interested and amused me. I don’t know whether

you told it with any particular pleasure, to yourself, but your

quick way of talking while you walked about the room, your Italian

gesticulation, and your face, which is certainly expressive and

prepossessing, whatever country it may belong to, have made your

recital very attractive. You have a fine mind and an excellent heart,

and the faults of which you accuse yourself seem to me very trifling,

compared with the evil courses into which you might easily have fallen,

thrown, as you were, so early into the world, without advisers or

resources, and with a handsome face, too--which is a real instrument of

perdition for either sex, in a place so corrupt as Paris or Naples.”

“But do you believe, Monsieur Goefle, that society is more moral or

pure here at the north? I should be pleased to think that such is the

case, but what I have seen at Stockholm--”

“Ah, my dear boy! if you judge of us by the intrigues, vanity,

violence, and infamous venality of our nobility, whether of the cap

or hat faction, you will believe us the very last of all the nations

in the universe. This would be wrong, however, for as a people we are

really good. It only needs a revolution, or a considerable war, to

bring to the surface our great qualities--the particles of pure gold

sunk to the bottom. Just now you see only the froth on the surface.

But to return to yourself: you have not explained to me about your

residence in Stockholm. How is it, in a place so full of intrigue and

distrust, that you could wear a mask, and yet escape annoyance from the

three or four different police organizations that are at work for the

different parties?”

“Because I do not wear a mask, as you can see very well for yourself,

Monsieur Goefle; it would be very troublesome to do that, and as soon

as I am a hundred steps away from my booth, it is easy enough, with

a little adroitness, and a few very simple precautions against the

observation of the inquisitive, to remove it, and go with my face

uncovered. I am not important enough to make anybody very determined to

see me, and the slight mystery that I keep up does a good deal towards

maintaining my popularity. And, after all, I have not so far retained

my prejudices as a society man, that I should be much distressed to

have my mask fall off some day in the street, and to be recognized by

a chance passenger as a very obscure adept of science, who occupies

himself about his studies at other hours, and in other portions of the

city.”

“Ah! that is just what you have not told me. When you are at Stockholm

you have, on occasion, another name than Christian Waldo, and another

lodging besides that where Jean and Puffo live, and the rest of your

troupe in their boxes?”

“Exactly, Monsieur Goefle. As to the name--do you really want to know

it?”

“Certainly I do. You do not distrust me?”

“Oh, if you are afraid of that, I comply at once, with pleasure. The

name is only Dulac--the French for my original fanciful name of del

Lago. I assumed it at Paris, as a precaution against any accident

which might draw upon me the notice and vengeance of the Neapolitan

ambassador.”

“Very good. And under that name you have succeeded in establishing good

connections in Stockholm?”

“I have hardly tried to do so, as I did not feel any need of haste. I

wanted, in the first place, to become acquainted with the scientific

and artistic riches of the city, and then to study the physiognomy

of the inhabitants as well as their tastes and customs. A stranger,

without friends, finds it extremely easy to study the manners and

prevailing sentiments of a people by haunting their places of public

resort. This is the method I adopted, and my present purpose is to

become familiar with the whole of Sweden, and then to put myself in

communication with the leading men of science at Stockholm and Upsal,

especially M. Linnæus. By that time I must receive the testimonials for

which I have written to Paris, and, at any rate, shall perhaps have

something of interest to submit to that illustrious man. I may find

specimens in distant localities that he has overlooked, and be able to

afford him pleasure by offering them to him. There is no journey in

which useful discoveries, or useful observations upon matters already

recorded, may not be made. When a young man visits a great master,

he is bound to bring tribute from his studies or his explorations;

otherwise he only occupies valuable time in the mere gratification of

his own vanity or curiosity. You said something about the police: they

let me entirely alone after one brisk examination, in which my answers

were frank, and seemed quite satisfactory. The good people with whom

I lodged, and who treated me as kindly as if I were one of their own

family, readily guaranteed my good conduct, and kept from the public

the little secret of my double individuality. So you see, Monsieur

Goefle, that at present I am excellently situated, and may well feel in

very good spirits, having command of my own movements, a sufficiently

profitable occupation, the love of science, and all the world open

before me!”

“But you lost your money in Lake Wetter--”

“Oh, but the lakes, Monsieur Goefle, are certainly inhabited by good

spirits, with whom I am in relations, without knowing it. Am I not

Christian _del Lago_? Either the troll of Lake Wetter will return

me my purse when I am least expecting it, or he will see that it comes

into the hands of some poor fisherman, who will have the good of it, so

that it will be a capital arrangement any way.”

“But still,--have you any money in your pocket, my boy?”

“Absolutely nothing, Monsieur Goefle,” replied the young man, laughing.

“I had exactly enough to get here, by pinching my own stomach a little,

so as to allow my attendant and my ass all they wanted; but I am to

receive thirty six dollars this evening for my performance; and after

enjoying this capital breakfast in company with yourself and this

excellent stove, and in sight of the splendid landscape all set with

diamonds, that I see shining out yonder, through the smoke with which

our pipes have filled the room, I feel myself the richest and most

fortunate of men.”

“You are decidedly an original,” said M. Goefle, rising, and knocking

the ashes from his pipe. “You are a singular mixture of the man and the

child, the scientist and the adventurer. It even seems to me that you

are extravagantly enjoying this last phase of your experience; and that

instead of finding it disagreeable, you are making your assumed and

rather exaggerated pride an excuse for protracting it.”

“Permit me, Monsieur Goefle,” answered Christian; “in the matter of

pride there is no middle course; it must be everything or nothing. I

have tried poverty, and I know how easy it is, in poverty, to become

degraded. One who is left to depend entirely upon his own resources,

must therefore accustom himself not to fear poverty; he must even

know how to make it a source of amusement. I have told you how it

distressed me to be poor in a great city. There, among temptations of

every kind, such a position is very dangerous to a man who is young and

vigorous, and who has known what it is to be carried away by passion.

Here, on the contrary, on my travels, that is to say, at liberty, and

protected by an incognito which will allow me to-morrow to assume a

respectable position in society, I feel as gay as a school-boy in

vacation; and I confess that I am in no haste to assume again the

chains of constraint and the annoyances of conventionality.”

“After all, I understand it,” said the doctor. “My imagination is not

duller than other people’s; and I can easily conceive that there is

a romantic pleasure in such a wandering, careless life. Yet you are

fond of society. It was not for the sake of investigating the frozen

mountains at midnight that you borrowed my dress suit.”

At this moment the door opened, and Ulphilas, to whom M. Goefle had no

doubt given orders, came to say that the horse and sleigh were ready.

Ulph seemed quite sober.

“What!” cried the doctor with surprise, “what time is it? Noon? It

is impossible! That old clock has gone crazy! But no,” he continued,

looking at his watch, “it is noon, really; and I must go and consult

with the baron over the great lawsuit, on account of which I have come

here. It surprises me, by the way, since he knows I am here, that he

should not have thought fit to send before now and inquire after me!”

“But his lordship, the baron, did send,” said Ulph; “did I not tell

you, M. Goefle?”

“Not at all.”

“He sent an hour ago, to say that he was ill last night, or that he

would have come himself--”

“Here? You exaggerate the baron’s politeness, my dear Ulph. The baron

never comes to Stollborg!”

“Very seldom, Monsieur Goefle; but--”

“Well, well! And father Stenson--is there no way of seeing him? I must

make the good old gentleman a little visit before I go over to the

chateau. Is he as deaf as ever?”

“A great deal more so, Monsieur Goefle; he will not hear a single word

you say.”

“Well, then, I will talk by signs.”

“But, Monsieur Goefle, the fact is my uncle don’t know you are here.”

“Ah, he doesn’t? Well, he will find it out.”

“He will scold me terribly for not having told him, and for having

allowed you--”

“To do what? To lodge in this room, I suppose? Very well; tell him that

I took possession without asking your permission.”

“Only imagine,” added M. Goefle, in French, to Christian, “that we

are here unlawfully, and without the knowledge of M. Stenson, the

overseer of the old chateau. And another very strange thing is, that

the said Monsieur Sten, as well as his estimable nephew here present,

are so convinced that the old ruin is haunted by unhappy and malevolent

spirits, that they are very reluctant to live here at all.”

As he said this, M. Goefle’s smiling face became serious all at once,

as if, though in the habit of laughing at such things, he really was

reproaching himself for doing so; and he abruptly asked Christian if he

believed in apparitions.

“Yes--in hallucinations,” replied Christian, without hesitation.

“Ah! Have you ever seen any, then?”

“Sometimes--in a fever, or under some powerful mental preoccupation. In

the latter case they were not so distinct as in the fever, and I could

see that it was an illusion; but the appearances made a sufficient

impression upon me to trouble me a good deal.”

“Just so--exactly so!” cried M. Goefle. “Well, only imagine--but I’ll

tell you this evening; there’s no time now. I must go, my friend; I

shall go and see the baron. He will perhaps detain me to dinner--at two

o’clock. But in any event I will return as soon as possible. Ah, by the

way--will you do me a service during my absence?”

“Two--three, if you wish, Monsieur Goefle; what is it?”

“To take my valet-de-chambre up out of his bed.”

“To wake him, you mean?”

“No, no! To take him up, to put on his clothes, button his gaiters,

put him into his breeches; they are very tight, and he is not strong

enough--”

“Oh, I understand; some old servant--an old friend, ill, or infirm?”

“No, not exactly. Stay, here he is! What a miracle! He has dressed

himself all alone! Very well done, Master Nils! Why, you are improving!

Up at noon, and dressed yourself! Haven’t you fatigued yourself too

much?”

“No, Monsieur Goefle,” said the child, with a triumphant air. “See, I

have buttoned my gaiters nicely.”

“A little crooked; but it’s done, at any rate; and now I suppose you

will go and rest yourself until night?”

“Oh no, Monsieur Goefle: I want something to eat; I am very hungry; it

has kept me from sleeping well for an hour at least.”

“There,” said M. Goefle to Christian, “you see what manner of

serving-man my housekeeper provided me with! At present, I shall leave

him under your charge. Make him obey you, if you can; for my part, I

have quite given up trying. Come, Ulph, go on; I’ll come after you.

Well, what’s the matter? what is it?”

“They brought a letter for you a little while ago,” answered Ulphilas,

whose ideas became more luminous in proportion as the sun ascended

towards the zenith, “and I put it in my pocket, and had forgotten--”

“To give it to me? Too true! You see, Christian, how well you are

waited upon at Stollborg.”

M. Goefle opened the letter, and read as follows, interrupting himself

at every sentence to make comments in French:

“‘My dear advocate--’

“I know that handwriting! It’s the Countess Elveda! A great coquette.

The Russian party in petticoats!

“‘Let me see you before any one else. I know the baron expects you at

noon. Have the goodness to leave Stollborg a little early, and come to

my room. I want to talk to you about some matters of importance--’

“Matters of importance! Some silly piece of wickedness, as black as

charcoal, and consequently as plain to be seen as charcoal on snow!

Faith, it’s too late! the time is past.”

“Certainly, the time is past,” observed Christian, “and what she wants

to tell you is not worth the trouble of hearing.”

“Ah! ah! Then you know what it is?”

“Perfectly; I’ll tell you about it at once, and I’m not afraid that you

will lend your influence to helping on a scheme as horrible as it is

ridiculous. The countess wants to marry her pretty niece, Margaret, to

the dead-and-alive old Baron Olaus.”

“Yes, I know that very well, and I have openly laughed at the idea.

Marry such a beautiful May to such a pale December! One would have to

be as much of a white-cap as the peak of Sylfiallet to think of such a

thing!”

“Ah, I was sure you would feel so. Is it not abominable, Monsieur

Goefle, to propose to sacrifice Margaret in such a way?--”

“Hallo! Margaret? Why, you and Margaret must be on very intimate

terms?--”

“Very far from it. I have only seen her. She is charming.”

“She is so considered. But the countess--how the devil did you come to

know her, and how did you learn about her private plans?”

“That is another story; I will tell you about it if you have time--”

“What? No, I have not; but here’s a postscript that I did not notice. I

don’t understand it at all:

“‘I must compliment you upon your nephew’s fine figure and his wit.’

“My nephew! I have no nephew! Is the countess crazy?

“‘Nevertheless, his good manners failed him for once, and very

reprehensibly. He really deserves to receive a severe reprimand from

you for having been guilty of such rudeness! But I will talk it over

with you, and try to make up for his foolishness--I almost wanted to

say insolence.’

“Rudeness! Insolence! Monsieur my nephew seems to have been well

occupied! But where the devil am I going to find the young gentleman,

to give him his severe reprimand?”

“Oh, dear Monsieur Goefle!” said Christian, in a piteous tone, “you

will not have to look very far. How is it you have not reflected that

if I could obtain admission to the ball-room without my mask, last

night, it cannot have been by the name of Christian Waldo?”

“I do not deny that! Then it was under the name of Goefle?”

“My invitation was in my pocket under that honorable name.”

“So, sir,” said M. Goefle, with severity, while his eyes sparkled with

anger, “you don’t content yourself with carrying off other people’s

toilet, from hair-powder down to shoe-soles inclusive, but you must

also go so far as to take their names, and leave them to be responsible

for the follies you may choose to commit. That is altogether beyond

endurance!”

Here good-natured M. Goefle, in spite of himself, burst out laughing,

at the absurd predicament of Christian Waldo. The handsome and

passionate young man, who found it difficult to bear so direct a

reproof, seemed tempted to make rather a sharp reply, and then his

anger was increased by the conduct of the servants. On one side Ulph,

perceiving from M. Goefle’s tone that he was angry, although he did

not understand a word that he said, was unconsciously imitating his

looks and gestures, while little Nils, quite as ignorant of the facts

in question, placed himself opposite Christian, in a haughty and almost

threatening attitude.

Provoked by these two absurd figures imitating and burlesquing M.

Goefle, Christian was strongly tempted to knock down the man and kick

the boy, but he knew perfectly well that he was in the wrong, and he

was, moreover, much pained at having offended so kind and amiable a

person as the doctor of laws. Indignation and repentance, therefore,

were depicted alternately upon his expressive countenance, and with

such vividness that the lawyer was quite disarmed. His laugh at once

disarmed his two satellites, who began to laugh also with returning

confidence, and went about their business, while Christian gave M.

Goefle a brief account of his defiance of the baron, which the Countess

Elveda called rude and insolent, but for which, in his opinion, he was

not at all to blame. M. Goefle, pressed as he was for time, listened

attentively, and when he had finished, said:

“Assuredly, my dear boy, you have done nothing to dishonor the name of

Goefle; on the contrary, your conduct was that of a gentleman, but you

have none the less placed me in a cruel embarrassment. Whether or not

Baron Olaus remembers his epileptic attack--for which, it seems, he is

indebted to you--he will not forget, you may rest assured, that you

have offended him. As you have been told, he is a man who never forgets

anything, and you will do well to disappear at once in your character

of Goefle, since Goefle you have chosen to become. Do not quit this

chamber without being masked; become Christian Waldo again, and you

have nothing to fear.”

“But pray tell me what should I have to fear from the baron, even if

I should present myself to him with my face uncovered? Is he actually

capable of having me assassinated?”

“I know nothing about that, Christian; I swear to you, upon my honor,

nothing at all; you may confidently believe me on this point. If, in my

business relations with him, I had gathered the least proof of the acts

he is charged with, those relations would be discontinued. I am very

indifferent to lucrative patronage, and I should tell my client some

very plain truths, whether it did him any good or not. Nevertheless,

there are some reports so well authenticated, and there are so many

cases where misfortunes have occurred to persons who have opposed the

baron, that I have sometimes asked myself if he had not the evil

eye--the _jettatura_, as you call it in Italy. At any rate, not

to bring any unnecessary bad luck upon myself, please allow me to

report that my nephew is absent; that he started this very morning on a

distant journey.”

“You may rely upon my absolute prudence, since I have been the means of

exposing you to a risk. I will not leave the room without being masked,

or so disguised that no one shall recognize me for the rather too

gallant and chivalrous stranger who danced at the ball last night.”

M. Goefle and Christian Waldo shook hands upon this agreement. Nils,

whose services had been confined to eating his breakfast during the

conversation, was now well wrapped up in furs by his master, who was

obliged to lift him upon the driver’s seat of the sleigh, and to place

the reins and whip in his hands. Once seated, however, he drove off

like an arrow, and descended the steep slope of the rock with skill and

confidence. To drive a horse was the one thing that he knew how to do,

and did without murmuring.

As for Ulph, he proceeded to make up the bed in which Nils had slept,

for Christian, and to prepare the sofa, which was quite large enough

to be comfortable, for the child, as M. Goefle had directed before his

departure. Then he went to wait upon his uncle, but always discreet in

concealing his disobedience, he did not say a single word about the

presence of visitors in the donjon.