CHAPTER I.

Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive

Transcriber's Notes:

1. Page scan source: http://www.archive.org/details/3626115

2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].

BY COPYRIGHT ARRANGEMENT WITH THE AUTHOR.

* * * * *

_THE NOVELS OF_

FRIEDRICH SPIELHAGEN.

_12mo, cloth, uniform in size and style, per vol._, $2.00.

JUST PUBLISHED.

_I.--PROBLEMATIC CHARACTERS_.

_II.--THROUGH NIGHT TO LIGHT_.

_III.--THE HOHENSTEINS_.

The above translated by Prof. SCHELE DE VERE.

_IV.--HAMMER AND ANVIL_.

Translated by WM. HAND BROWNE.

IN PRESS.

_V.--IN RANK AND FILE_.

_VI.--ROSE, AND THE VILLAGE COQUETTE_.

* * * * *

CRITICAL NOTICES.

"Such a novel as no English author with whom we are acquainted could

have written, and no American author except Hawthorne. What separates

it from the multitude of American and English novels is the perfection

of its plot, and its author's insight into the souls of his

characters.... If Germany is poorer than England, as regards the number

of its novelists, it is richer when we consider the intellectual value

of their works. If it has not produced a Thackeray, or a Dickens, it

has produced, we venture to think, two writers who are equal to them in

genius, and superior to them in the depth and spirituality of their

art--Auerbach and Spielhagen."--_Putnam's Magazine_.

"The name is suggested by a passage in Goethe, which serves as a

motto to the book. Spielhagen means to illustrate what Goethe speaks

of--natures not in full possession of themselves, 'who are not equal to

any situation in life, and whom no situation satisfies'--the Hamlet of

our latest civilization. With these he deals in a poetic, ideal

fashion, yet also with humor, and, what is less to be expected in a

German, with sparkling, flashing wit, and a cynical vein that reminds

one of Heine. He has none of the tiresome detail of Auerbach, while he

lacks somewhat that excellent man's profound devotion to the moral

sentiment. There is more depth of passion and of thought in Spielhagen,

together with a French liveliness by no means common in German

novelists.... At any rate, they are vastly superior to the bulk of

English novels which are annually poured out upon us--as much

above Trollope's as Steinberger Cabinet is better than London

porter.--_Springfield Republican_.

"The reader lives among them (the characters) as he does among his

acquaintances, and may plead each one's case as plausibly to his own

judgment as he can those of the men whose mixed motives and actions he

sees around him. In other words, these characters live, they are men

and women, and the whole mystery of humanity is upon each of them. Has

no superior in German romance for its enthusiastic and lively

descriptions, and for the dignity and the tenderness with which its

leading characters are invested."--_New York Evening Post_.

"He strikes with a blow like a blacksmith, making the sparks fly and

the anvil ring. Terse, pointed, brilliant, rapid, and no dreamer, he

has the best traits of the French manner, while in earnestness and

fulness of matter he is thoroughly German. One sees, moreover, in his

pages, how powerful is the impression which America has of late been

making upon the mind of Europe."--_Boston Commonwealth_.

"The work is one of immense vigor; the characters are extraordinary,

yet not unnatural; the plot is the sequence of an admirably-sustained

web of incident and action. The portraitures of characteristic foibles

and peculiarities remind one much of the masterhand of the great

Thackeray. The author Spielhagen In Germany ranks very much as

Thackeray does with us, and many of his English reviewers place him at

the head and front of German novelists."--_Troy Daily Times_.

"His characters have, perhaps, more passion, and act their parts with

as much dramatic effect as those which have passed under the hand of

Auerbach."--_Cincinnati Chronicle_.

The N. Y. Times, of Oct. 23d, in a long Review of the above two works,

says: "The descriptions of nature and art, the portrayals of character

and emotion, are always striking and truthful. As one reads, there

grows upon him gradually the conviction that this is one of the

greatest of works of fiction.... No one, that is not a pure _egoiste_,

can read _Problematic Characters_ without profound and even solemn

interest. It is altogether a tragic work, the tragedy of the nineteenth

century--greater in its truth and earnestness, and absence of _Hugoese_

affectation, than any tragedy the century has produced. It stands far

above any of the productions of either _Freytag_ or _Auerbach_."

* * * * *

_LEYPOLDT & HOLT, Publishers_,

25 BOND ST., NEW YORK.

HAMMER AND ANVIL

_A Novel_

BY

FRIEDRICH SPIELHAGEN

_Author's Edition_.

NEW YORK

LEYPOLDT & HOLT

25 Bond Street

1870.

HAMMER AND ANVIL

A NOVEL

BY

FRIEDRICH SPIELHAGEN

FROM THE GERMAN

BY

WILLIAM HAND BROWNE

_Author's Edition_.

NEW YORK

LEYPOLDT & HOLT

25 Bond Street

1870.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by

LEYPOLDT & HOLT,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States

for the Southern District of New York.

STEREOTYPED BY PRESS OF

DENNIS BRO'S & THORNE, THE NEW YORK PRINTING COMPANY

AUBURN, N. Y. _81, 83, and 85 Centre Street_,

NEW YORK

HAMMER AND ANVIL.

PART FIRST.

CHAPTER I.

We were standing in a deep recess at the open window of our class-room.

The sparrows were noisily chattering in the school-yard, and some

scattered rays of the late summer sun glanced past the old gray walls

down to the grass-grown pavement; from the class-room, which was

high-ceilinged, sunless, and ill-ventilated, came the buzzing sound of

repressed talk from our schoolfellows, who were all in their places,

bent over their Sophocles, and watching for the arrival of the "old

man," who was looked for every moment.

"At the worst, you can shuffle through somehow," I was saying, when the

door opened and he came in.

_He_--Professor Lederer, Provisory Director of the Gymnasium, and

Ordinarius of the first form,[1] "the old man," as we used to call

him--was in reality not exactly old, but a man past the middle of the

forties, whose small head, already turning gray, rested upon a stiff

white cravat, and whose tall and extraordinarily lean figure was

buttoned up, from one year's end to the other, summer and winter, in a

coat of the finest and glossiest black. His slender hands, of which he

took extreme care, with their long and tapering fingers--when twitching

nervously, as they had a habit of doing, close under my eyes--had

always a sort of fascination for me, and more than once I could

scarcely resist the temptation to seize one of those artistic-looking

hands and crush it in my own coarse brown fist.

Professor Lederer always paced the distance from the door to his desk

in twelve measured, dignified strides, head and eyes a little drooped,

with the austere look of intensest meditation; like a priest

approaching the sacrificial altar, or a Caesar entering the senate--at

all events like a being who, far removed from the modern plebeian

sphere, walked day by day in the light of the sun of Homer, and was

perfectly aware of the majestic fact. So it was never a judicious

proceeding to try to detain this classical man upon this short journey,

and in most cases a prohibitory gesture of his hand checked the

attempt; but the sanguine Arthur was so sure that his request would not

be refused, that he ventured it, reckless of further consequences. So,

stepping out in front of the professor, he asked for a holiday for the

day, which was Saturday.

"Certainly not," said the professor.

"To go sailing," urged Arthur, not in the least deterred by the

stern tone of the professor, for my friend Arthur was not easily

abashed--"to go in my uncle's steamboat to examine the oyster-beds

which my uncle planted two years ago. I have a note from my father, you

know, professor," and he produced the credential in question.

"Certainly not!" repeated the professor. His pale face flushed a little

with irritation; his white hand, from which he had drawn his black

glove, was extended towards Arthur with a classical minatory gesture;

his blue eyes deepened in hue, like the sea when a cloud-shadow passes

over it.

"Certainly not!" he exclaimed for the third time, strode past Arthur to

his desk, and after silently folding his white hands, explained that he

was too much excited to begin with the customary prayers. And presently

followed a stammering philippic--the professor always stammered when

irritated--against that pest of youth, worldliness and hankering after

pleasure, which chiefly infected precisely those upon whom rested the

smallest portion of the spirit of Apollo and Pallas Athené. "He was a

mild and humane man," he said, "and well mindful of the words of the

poet, that it was well to lay seriousness aside at the proper time and

place; ay, even at times to quaff the wine-cup and move the feet

in the dance; but then the cause should be sufficient to justify the

license--a Virgil must have returned from a far-off land, or a

Cleopatra have freed the people from imminent peril by her voluntary,

yet involuntary death. But how could any one who notoriously was one of

the worst scholars--yes, might be styled absolutely the worst, unless

one other"--here the professor gave a side-glance at me--"could claim

this evil pre-eminence--how could such a one dare to clutch at a

garland which should only encircle a brow dripping with the sweat of

industry! Was he, the speaker, too strict? He thought not. Assuredly,

no one could wish it more earnestly than he, and no one would rejoice

more heartily than he, if the subject of his severe rebuke would even

now give the proof of his innocence by translating without an error the

glorious chorus of the _Antigone_, which was the theme of the morning's

lecture. Von Zehren, commence!"

Poor Arthur! I still see, after the lapse of so many years, his

beautiful, but even then somewhat worn face, striving in vain to hold

fast upon its lips the smile of aristocratic indifference with which he

had listened to the professor's rebuke, as he took the book and read,

not too fluently, a verse or two of the Greek. Even in this short

reading the scornful smile gradually faded, and he glanced from under

his dropped lids a look of beseeching perplexity towards his neighbor

and Pylades. But how was it possible for me to help him; and who knew

better than he how impossible it was? So the inevitable came to pass.

He turned the "shaft of Helios" into a "shield of Æolus," and blundered

on in pitiable confusion. The others announced their better knowledge

by peals of laughter, and a grim smile of triumph over his discomfiture

even played over the grave features of the professor.

"The curs!" muttered Arthur with white lips, as he took his seat after

the recitation had lasted a couple of minutes. "But why did you not

prompt me?"

I had no time to answer this idle question, for it was now my turn. But

I had no notion of making sport for my comrades by submitting to be

classically racked; so I declared that I was even less prepared than my

friend, and added that I trusted this testimony would corroborate the

charge that the professor had been pleased to bring against me.

I accompanied these words with a threatening look at the others, which

at once checked their mirth; and the professor, either thinking he had

gone far enough, or not deigning to notice my insolent speech, turned

away with a shrug of the shoulders, and contented himself with treating

us with silent contempt for the rest of the recitation, while towards

the others he was unusually amiable, enlivening the lesson by sallies

of the most classical and learned wit.

No sooner had the door closed behind him, than Arthur stood up before

the first form and said:

"You fellows have behaved meanly again, as you always do; but as for

me, I have no notion of staying here any longer. The old man will not

be back any more to-day; and if the others ask for me, say I am sick."

"And for me too," cried I, stepping up to Arthur and laying my arm on

his shoulder. "I am going with him. A fellow that deserts his friend is

a sneak."

A moment later we had dropped from the window twelve feet into the

yard, and crouching between two buttresses that the professor might not

espy us as he went out, we consulted what was next to be done.

There were two ways of getting out of the closed court in which we now

were: either to slip through the long crooked corridors of the

gymnasium--an old monastery--and so out into the street; or to go

directly through the professor's house, which joined the yard at one

corner, and thence upon the promenade, which nearly surrounded the

town, and had in fact been constructed out of the old demolished

town-walls. The first course was hazardous, for it often happened that

a pair of teachers would walk up and down the cool corridors in

conversation long after the regular time for the commencement of the

lessons, and we had no minute to lose in waiting. The other was still

more dangerous, for it led right through the lion's den; but it was far

shorter, and practicable every moment, so we decided to venture it.

Creeping close to the wall, right under the windows of our class-room,

in which the second lesson had already begun, we reached the narrow

gate that opened into the little yard of the professor's house. Here

all was quiet; through the open door we could see into the wide hall

paved with slabs of stone, where the professor, who had just returned,

was playing with his youngest boy, a handsome black-haired little

fellow of six years, chasing him with long strides, and clapping his

white hands. The child laughed and shouted, and at one time ran out

into the yard, directly towards where we were hidden behind a pile of

firewood--two more steps of the little feet, and we should have been

detected.

I have often thought, since that time, that on those two little steps,

in reality, depended nothing less than the whole destiny of my life. If

the child had discovered us, we had only to come forward from behind

the wood-pile, which every one had to pass in going from the gymnasium

to the director's house, as two scholars on their way to their teacher

to ask his pardon for their misbehavior. At least Arthur confessed to

me that this idea flashed into his mind as the child came towards us.

Then there would have been another reprimand, but in a milder tone, for

the professor was a kind man at the bottom of his heart; we should have

gone back to the class-room, pretended to our schoolmates that our

running away was only a joke, and--well, I do not know what would have

happened then; certainly not what really did happen.

But the little trotting feet did not come to us; the father, following

with long strides, caught the child and tossed it in the air till the

black curls glistened in the sunshine, and then carried it back,

caressing it, to the house, where Mrs. Professor now appeared at the

door, with her hair in papers, and a white apron on; and then father,

mother, and child disappeared. Through the open door we could see that

the hall was empty--now or never was the time.

With beating hearts, such as only beat in the breasts of school-boys

bent on some dangerous prank, we stole to the door through the silent

hall where the motes were sparkling in the sunbeams that slanted

through the gothic windows. As we opened the house-door, the bell gave

a clear note of warning; but even now the leafy trees of the promenade

were beckoning to us; in half a minute we were concealed by the thick

bushes, and hastening with rapid steps, that now and then quickened to

a half run, towards the port.

"What will you say to your father?" I asked.

"Nothing at all, because he will ask no questions," Arthur replied; "or

if he does, I will say that I was let off; what else? It will be

capital; I shall have splendid fun."

We kept on for a while in silence. For the first time it occurred to me

that I had run away from school for just nothing at all. If Arthur came

in for a couple of days in the dungeon, he, at all events, would have

had "splendid fun," and thus, for him at least, there was some show of

reason in the thing. His parents, too, were very indulgent; his share

of the danger was as good as none, while I ran all the risk of

discovery and punishment without the least compensation; and my stern

old father was a man who understood no trifling, least of all in

matters of this sort. So once again, as many times before, I had helped

to pull the chestnuts out of the fire for somebody else. However, what

did it matter? Here, under the rustling trees, after our brisk race, it

was more pleasant than in the stifling class-room; and for me, in those

times, every silly, venturesome frolic had a pleasure in itself. So I

felt it a special piece of magnanimity on the part of my usually

selfish friend, when he suddenly said:

"Look here, George, you shall come too. Uncle charged me particularly

to bring as many friends as I could. I tell you it will be splendid.

Elise Kohl and Emilie Heckepfennig are going with us. For once I shall

leave Emilie to you. And then the oysters, and the champagne, and the

pineapple punch--yes, you certainly must come."

"And my father?" I said; but I only said it, for my resolution to be

one of the party was already taken. Emilie Heckepfennig--Emilie, with

her little turned-up nose and laughing eyes, who had always shown me a

decided preference; and recently, at forfeits, had given me a hearty

kiss, to which she was in no wise bound, and whom Arthur, the coxcomb,

was going to leave especially to me! Yes, I must go along, happen what

might.

"Can I go as I am, do you think?" I asked, suddenly halting, with a

glance at my dress, which was plain and neat, it is true--I was always

neat--but not exactly the thing for company.

"Why not?" said Arthur. "What difference does it make? And, besides, we

have not a minute to spare."

Arthur, who was in his best clothes, had not looked at me, nor

slackened his pace in the least. We had not a minute to spare, that was

true enough, for as slipping through some narrow alleys we reached the

harbor, we heard the bell ringing on board the steamer that was lying

at the wharf just ready to start. The sturdy figure of the captain was

seen standing upon the paddle-box. We pushed through the crowd on the

wharf, ran up the gang-plank, which they were just hauling in, and

mingled with the gay throng on deck, as the wheels began to turn.

CHAPTER II.

"How you startled me!" said Frau von Zehren, seizing her son by both

hands. "We began to think, what was really impossible, that Professor

Lederer had refused you permission. You see now, Zehren, that I was

right."

"Well, it is all right now," replied the steuerrath.[2] "The young

ladies were inconsolable at the prospect of your absence Arthur--or am

I saying too much, Fräulein Emilie and Fräulein Elise?" and the

steuerrath turned with a polite wave of his hand to the young ladies,

who tittered and nodded their dark broad-brimmed straw-hats at each

other.

"And now you must speak to your uncle," he went on; "but where is your

uncle, then?" and he ran his eye over the company that was moving about

the deck.

The Commerzienrath Streber came bouncing up. His little, light-blue

eyes glittered under bushy gray brows, the long peak of his

old-fashioned cap was pushed back from his bald forehead, the left

sleeve of his loose blue frock-coat, with gold buttons, had slipped

half off his shoulder, as he hurried along on his little legs, cased in

yellow nankeen trousers:

"Where has that rascal John put the----?"

"Allow me, brother-in-law, to present my Arthur----."

"Very good," cried the commerzienrath, without even giving a look at

the presentee. "Aha! there the villain is!" and he made a dart at his

servant, who was just coming up the companion-way with a tray of

glasses.

The steuerrath and his lady exchanged a look, in which "the old brute,"

or some similarly flattering expression, was plainly legible. Arthur

had joined the young ladies and said something at which they burst out

laughing and rapped him with their parasols; I, whom nobody seemed to

notice, turned away and went on the more quiet forward deck, where I

found a seat upon a coil of rope, and leaning my back against the

capstan, looked out upon the bright sky and the bright sea.

In the meantime the boat had left the harbor, and was moving down with

the coast on our larboard, where the red roofs of the fishermen's

cottages shone through the trees and bushes; while on the narrow strip

of level beach here and there figures were seen, seafaring folks

probably, or sea-bathers, who were watching the steamer go by. To our

right the shore receded, so that it was only just possible to

distinguish it from the water; before us, but at a still more remote

distance, gleamed the chalk-coast of the neighboring island over the

blue expanse of sea, which now began to roughen a little under a

fresher breeze, while countless flocks of seabirds now flew up from the

approach of the puffing steamer, and now, with their cunning heads

turned towards us, sported on the waves and filled the air with their

monotonous cries.

It was a bright and lovely morning; but though I saw its beauty, it

gave me no pleasure. I felt singularly dejected. Had the _Penguin_

that, with a sluggishness altogether at variance with her name, was

slowly toiling through the water, been a beautiful swift clipper, bound

for China or Buenos Ayres, or somewhere thousands of miles away, and I

a passenger with a great purse of gold, or even a sailor before the

mast, with the assurance that I should never again set eyes on the

hateful steeples of my native town, I should have been light-hearted

enough. But now! what was it then that made me so low-spirited? The

consciousness of my disobedience? Dread of the disagreeable

consequences, now, to all human foresight, inevitable? Nothing of the

sort. The worst could only be that my stern father would drive me from

his house, as he had already often enough threatened to do; and this

possibility I regarded as a deliverance from a yoke which seemed to

grow more intolerable every day; and as the idea arose in my mind, I

welcomed it with a smile of grim satisfaction. No, it was not that.

What then?

Well, to have run away from school with an ardor as if some glorious

prize was to be won, and then, in a merry company, on the deck of a

steamboat, to sit away by myself on a coil of rope, not one of the

gentlemen or ladies taking the slightest notice of me, and with not

even the prospect that the waiter, with the caviar-rolls and port wine,

would at last come round to me! This last neglect, to tell the honest

truth, for the moment afflicted me most sorely of all. My appetite, as

was natural for a robust youth of nineteen, was always of the best,

and now by the brisk run from school to the harbor and the fresh

sea-breeze, it was sharpened to a distressing keenness.

I stood up in a paroxysm of impatience, but quickly sat down again. No,

Arthur certainly would come and take me to the company; it was the

least that he owed me, after I had been so obliging as to run away

with him. As if he had ever yet paid me what he owed me! How many

fishing-rods, canary birds, shells, fifes, pocket-knives, had he not

already bought of me, that is, coaxed and worried me out of, without

ever paying me for them. Ay, how often had he not borrowed my slender

stock of pocket-money, whenever the amount made it worth his while; for

which sometimes even a couple of _silbergroschen_ sufficed.

Curious, that just now, on this bright sunny morning, I should take to

reckoning up this black account! It was certainly the first time since

the beginning of our friendship, which dated at least from our sixth

year. For I had always loved the handsome slender boy, who had such

sunny hair and gentle brown eyes, and whose velvet Sunday jacket felt

so soft to the touch. I had loved him as a great rough mastiff might

love a delicate greyhound that he could crush with one snap of his

jaws; and so I loved him even now, while he was flirting with the

girls, and chattering and laughing with the company like the _petit

maître_ he was.

I grew very melancholy as I watched all this from my place, where

nobody could see me--very melancholy and altogether disspirited. I must

have been very hungry.

We were now just rounding a long headland, which ran out from the

western coast. At its farthest low extremity, in a spot entirely

surrounded by water, separated by a wide interval from the row of

houses on the dune, and shadowed by a half-decayed oak, stood a

cottage, the sight of which called into my mind a flood of pleasant

memories. The old blacksmith, Pinnow, lived there, the father of my

friend Klaus Pinnow. Smith Pinnow was by far the most remarkable

personage of all my acquaintance. He possessed four old double-barreled

percussion guns, and a long single-barreled fowling-piece with a flint

lock, which he used to hire to the bathers when they took a fancy to

have a little shooting, and sometimes to us youngsters when we were in

funds, for Smith Pinnow was not in the habit of conferring gratuitous

favors. He had, besides, a great sail-boat, also kept for the bathing

company, at least of late years, since he had grown half blind and

could not venture longer trips. The rumor ran that formerly he used to

make very different voyages, of by no means so innocent a character;

and the excise officers, my father's colleagues (my father had lately

been promoted to an accountantship) shook their heads when Smith

Pinnow's by-gone doings happened to be referred to. But what was that

to us youngsters? Especially, what was it to me, who owed the happiest

hours of my life to the four rusty guns, and the fowling-piece, and

Smith Pinnow's old boat, and who had had the best comrade in the world

in Klaus Pinnow? Had had, I say, for during the last four years, while

Klaus was an apprentice to the locksmith Wangerow, and afterwards when

he became a journeyman, I had seen him but seldom, and, indeed, for the

last half year not at all.

He came at once into my mind as we steamed past his father's cottage,

and I perceived a figure standing on the sands by the side of the boat

which was drawn up on the beach. The distance was great, but my keen

eyes recognized Christel Möwe, Klaus's adopted sister, whom sixteen

years before, old Pinnow's wife--long since dead--had found the morning

after a storm, lying on the beach among the boxes and planks driven

ashore from a wreck, and whom the old blacksmith, in an unwonted

impulse of generosity, as some said, or to raise his credit with the

neighbors, according to others, had taken into his house. The wreck was

a Dutch ship from Java, as they made out from some of the things cast

ashore; but her name and owners were never discovered--probably from

the negligence of the officials charged with the investigations--and

they named the little foundling Christina, or Christel, Möwe [_Gull_],

because the screams of a flock of gulls in the air had attracted

Goodwife Pinnow to the spot where the child was lying.

A noise close at hand caused me to look round. Two paces from me a

hatchway was opened, and out of the hatchway emerged the figure of a

man who was standing on the ladder, but whose head rose high enough

above the deck to allow him to see over the low bulwarks. His short

stiff hair, his broad face, his bare muscular neck, his breast open

almost to the belt, his shirt which had once been striped with red, and

his trousers which had once been white--were all covered with a thick

black deposit of coal-dust; and as he was blinking with his small eyes

almost shut in order to see more keenly some distant object, he would

have presented an unbroken surface of blackness, had he not at this

moment expanded an immense mouth into a joyous grin, and displayed two

rows of teeth of unsurpassed whiteness. And now he raised himself a few

inches higher, waved his great black hand as a greeting towards the

beach, and all at once I recognized him.

"Klaus!" I called out.

"Hallo!" he cried, starting, and quickly bringing his small eyes to

bear upon me.

"That was a mighty affectionate salute of yours, Klaus."

Klaus blushed visibly through his rind of soot, and showed all his

teeth. "Why, in the name of ----, George," cried he, "where do you come

from, and what has brought you here?"

"And what has brought you here?"

"I have been here ever since Easter. I have had it in my mind for some

time to come to see you and inquire after your health."

"You foolish fellow, why do you put on that respectful tone with me?"

"Oh, you belong to the great folks now," replied Klaus, jerking his

thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the quarter-deck.

"I wish I were below with you, and you would give me a good thick slice

of bread and butter. Hang the great folks, as you call them."

Klaus looked at me in astonishment.

"Well, but why in the world----" he began.

"Why am I here? Is that what you mean? Why, because I am a fool and an

ass."

"Oh, no," remonstrated Klaus.

"Yes, I am--a complete ass. I wish all my friends were as good as you

are, Klaus." Here I gave a glance towards the perfidious Arthur, who

was strutting about among the guests with the parasol of the perfidious

Emilie, while she had set his little straw-hat in a coquettish fashion

on her curls.

"I am wanted below," said Klaus, with a friendly grin; "Good-by." And

down the ladder he went.

"Was that a chimney-sweep?" asked a clear voice behind me.

I turned hastily round, rising from my seat. There stood a charming

little lady of eight, in a little white frock with ribbons of

cornflower blue at the shoulders and streaming from her straw-hat,

whose great cornflower blue eyes first stared with intense curiosity at

the hatchway through which my black friend had vanished, and then

turned inquiringly to me.

At this moment the hatch was raised again, and Klaus's head

emerged--"Shall I really get you a slice?"

"Oh, mercy!" cried the little lady. Klaus vanished instantaneously, and

the hatch shut down with a bang.

"Oh, mercy!" cried the little maid again. "How it frightened me!"

"What frightened you, _ma chère_!" asked another voice. The voice was

extremely thin, and so was the lady to whom it belonged, and who had

just come out of the deck-cabin. So also was the worn dress of

changeable silk that fluttered about her figure, and the reddish locks

that drooped on each side of her pale face.

This lady was Fräulein Amalie Duff, and the little maid with the

cornflower eyes and ribbons was her pupil, Hermine Streber, the

commerzienrath's only child. Of course I knew them both, as indeed I

was pretty well acquainted with everybody in our little town, as soon

as they were out of long-clothes; and they might well have known me,

for I had been two or three times with Arthur in his uncle's large

garden at the town-gate, and a fortnight before had even had the honor

to swing the little Hermine in the great wooden swing, from which, if

you swung high enough, you could catch a sight of the sea through the

tops of the trees. Fräulein Duff, moreover, was a native of the little

Saxon town which was the birthplace of my parents; and when she

arrived, some months before, she brought various messages and greetings

from the old home, which unhappily came too late for my good mother,

who had been resting in the churchyard for fifteen years. She had

frequently condescended indeed no longer ago than the afternoon of the

swinging to bestow her instructive conversation upon me; but she was

very near-sighted, and I could not take it amiss that she applied her

gold double eye-glass to her pale eyes, and with a sweeping reverence,

which in the dancing-school is called, I believe, _grand compliment_,

inquired: "Whom have I the honor to----?"

I introduced myself.

CHAPTER II.

"O ciel!" cried Fräulein Duff, "_mon jeune compatriote!_ A thousand

pardons!--my near-sightedness! How is your respected father, and your

amiable mother? Dear me! how confused I am! But your sudden appearance

in this retired corner of the world has quite unnerved me. I was about

to say--the company are asking for you. How did you manage to elude

observation?--they are looking for you everywhere."

"Yet I might have been found easily enough," I said, probably with a

touch of wounded pride in the tone, which did not escape the quick ear

of Fräulein Duff.

"Ah, yes," she said, conveying a look of intelligence into her pale

eyes. "'Who solace seeks in solitude'--alas! too true.

"'For gold all are longing,

Round gold all are thronging--'"

"Not so wild, _ma chère_! The dreadful creature will tear your dress!"

These last words were addressed to the little Hermine, who had begun to

romp on the smooth deck with a pretty little spaniel that had run to

her barking and jumping.

"You have a feeling heart," continued the governess, turning again to

me; "I see it in the pained expression of your mouth. Your soul shrinks

from noisy joys; this boisterous merriment is odious to you. But we

poor ones must submit to the inevitable--or I, at least must. Would I

be here if it were not so? Upon this tossing bark, in terror for my

life? And all for what purpose? to assist at a cannibal feast! Innocent

oysters, which men tear from the maternal bosom of the sea to devour

alive! Is that a fit spectacle to be exhibited to a child?" and

Fräulein Duff shook her thin locks with an expression of the deepest

solicitude.

"It remains yet to be seen whether we shall find any," I said, with

something like a sneer.

"Do you think so? The other gentlemen doubt it, too. The water of the

Baltic is not salt enough. True, we are informed that the Romans

propagated them in fresh-water lakes near Naples--but why parade my

modest bit of learning before a young scholar like yourself? The good

commerzienrath! Yes, yes; despise reason and learning who will!--but

here he comes himself. Not a word of what we have been saying, my young

friend, I beseech you!"

I had no time to assure the pale lady of my discretion, for nearly the

whole company came crowding on the forward-deck, in the wake of the

commerzienrath, who had the fat Mrs. Justizrath Heckepfennig upon his

arm, to look at a three-master that was just passing us under full

sail. In the next moment I was in the midst of the crowd, and the ice,

in which I had been sitting, so to speak, was broken. Arthur, whose

delicate face was already flushed by the wine he had been drinking,

clapped me on the shoulder and asked where upon earth I had been

hiding. The perfidious Emilie held out her hand and murmured: "Had you

then entirely forgotten me?" and--as just at that moment a salute was

fired from some small mortars on board the steamer--fell, with a little

scream, into my arms. The three-master, that was just returning from

the West Indies, belonged to the commerzienrath's fleet. They knew that

she would arrive to-day; and it was by no means disagreeable to the

commerzienrath to be able to carry his guests, on their way to his

oyster-beds, past the finest of his ships. He mounted the paddle-box,

speaking-trumpet in hand, and roared, at the pitch of his lungs,

something which, amid the universal hurrahing and the explosions of the

mortars, was perfectly inaudible to the bronzed captain of the ship,

who shrugged his broad shoulders as a sign that he could not catch a

word of it all. What difference did it make? It was a splendid sight;

and the commerzienrath upon the paddle-box, trumpet in hand, was the

chief figure in it. That was enough for him; and as the _Albatros_ with

her wide wings swept by, and the short legs of the _Penguin_ began to

paddle again, and he descended from his pedestal to receive the

congratulations of the company, his little clear eyes sparkled, his

nostrils expanded, and his loud laugh rang like the crowing of a cock,

exulting in the proud consciousness that he is the master of the

dunghill.

The rest of the poultry freely acknowledged this superiority: there was

cackling and clucking, bowing and scraping, and no one more obsequious

than Arthur's father, the steuerrath, who kept constantly at the side

of the great man, saying, in his smooth voice, flatteries, which the

other received as a matter of course--something to which he was well

accustomed, especially from that quarter--with an indifference which to

most others would have been insulting. It is quite possible that

the steuerrath did not find this behavior on the part of his rich

brother-in-law altogether pleasant, but he was too much a man of the

world to give any outward sign of his inward emotions. But his spouse

was not quite so successful in her self-command, who, as born Baroness

Kippenreiter, had an unquestionable claim to respectful attention, and

a right to be dissatisfied if this were withheld. So she sought to

indemnify herself for the humiliation by the extremest possible

condescension of manner towards the other ladies, Mrs. Burgomaster

Koch, Mrs. Justizrath Heckepfennig, Mrs. Bauinspector Strombach, and

the rest of the feminine _élite_ of our little town, though even this

satisfaction could not roll away the clouds from her aristocratic brow.

I had hardly begun to feel at ease in the company, which happened

quickly enough, when my natural vivacity, which bordered on rudeness,

returned and impelled me to a hundred pranks, which were decidedly not

in the best taste, though certainly not instigated by any intention to

offend, and which I carried on all the more recklessly, as I perceived

I had all the laughers on my side. I could blush with shame even now,

when I think of my shallow attempts at wit, and how poor in invention

and clumsy in execution were the comic imitations to which I must needs

treat my respectable audience, because forsooth I had a sort of

celebrity in the town for this sort of thing, (my masterpiece, I

remember, was a lover bent on regaling his mistress with a serenade,

and incessantly disturbed by barking dogs, mewing cats, scolding

neighbors, and malicious passers-by, and finally taken up by the

watch,) what foolish flippancy and want of tact in the speeches that I

made at the table, and with how many glasses of wine I repaid myself

for all my ridiculous exertions.

And yet this lunch under an awning on deck of the steamer that was now

anchored in the calm, smooth sea, was the last real merry-making that I

was to have for many long years. I do not know if it was this that

keeps it so bright in my memory, or rather the youth that then glowed

in my veins, the wine that sparkled in the glasses, the bright sunshine

that glistened on the sea, and the sweet air that swept so softly over

the water that it did not suffice to cool the flushed cheeks of the

maidens. It was rather all together--youth, sunlight, sea-breeze,

golden wine, rosy cheeks; and ah! the oysters, the unlucky oysters,

that had had two years in which to multiply like the sand of the sea,

and which the sea-sand and sea-currents had buried and swept away, all

to a few empty shells! What an inexhaustible theme were these empty

shells, displayed with humorous ostentation in a splendid dish in the

centre of the table! how every one tried his wit on them, and what a

malicious joy each felt that the millionaire's obstinate conceit had

had a lesson, and that not all his millions could extort from nature

what she had determined to refuse!

But the old fellow bore it all with the utmost good-humor; and after he

had bewailed his ill-luck in a humorous speech, suddenly a loud clamor

arose on the forward-deck, and the sailors dragged forward great

barrels of oysters, which they declared they had just taken up. Then

there was no end to the exultation and cheers to our magnificent host,

who once more had shown that his sagacity and foresight were even

greater than his conceit and his obstinacy.

I do not know how late the feast was protracted, while the ladies

promenaded the deck; it was certainly kept up far too long for us

youngsters. Very queer stories were told, in which the commerzienrath

particularly distinguished himself; we laughed, we shouted--I must

volunteer songs, which were received with storms of applause, and I was

not a little vain as my powerful bass drew even the ladies to the table

again, and did my best, when both ladies and gentlemen joined in unison

in the glee, "What it means I cannot tell," to carry through a second

voice (in thirds), keeping my eye all the while on Fräulein Emilie--an

attention which naturally set the other young ladies to giggling and

nudging each other, and occasioned Arthur such pangs of jealousy, that

afterwards, as we were walking up and down the deck, with our cigars,

he called me to account for it.

By this time it was evening, for I remember that, while talking with

Arthur, I noticed on the coast of the island, which we had neared on

our return, an old ruin, standing picturesquely on a high and steep

cliff, and glowing in the light of the setting sun. The sight of this

ruin gave an unpleasant turn to our discussion, which had already grown

sharp. This tower happened to be the sole remnant of the ancient

Zehrenburg, the ancestral seat of Arthur's family, which, in former

times, had enjoyed large possessions on the island. Arthur pointed with

a pathetic gesture to the ruddy walls, and demanded that I, here and

now, with my eye upon the castle of his ancestors, should renounce

forever all pretensions to Emilie Heckepfennig. "A plebeian like

myself," he said, "was in duty bound to give way to a patrician." I

maintained that there were no such things as plebeians or patricians in

affairs of the heart, and that I would never consent to a pledge which

would entail perpetual wretchedness on both Emilie and myself.

"Slave!" cried Arthur, "is it thus that you repay me for the

condescension that has so long tolerated your society?"

I laughed aloud, and my laughter still further exasperated Arthur's

drunken passion.

"My father is Steuerrath von Zehren," he cried, "and yours a miserable

subaltern."

"Let us leave our fathers out of the question, Arthur; you know I will

not endure any insult to mine."

"Your father----"

"Once more I warn you, Arthur, leave my father's name alone. My father,

at the very least, is as good as yours. And if you say another word

about my father, I'll fling you overboard," and I shook my fist in

Arthur's face.

"What's the matter here?" asked the steuerrath, who suddenly appeared.

"How, young man, is this the respect that you owe to my son--that you

owe to me? It appears that you are disposed to add the crown to your

disgraceful behavior all day. My son has invited you into his company

for the last time."

"Invited me, indeed!" I said. "We ran away, both of us!"--and I burst

into a shout of laughter that quite justified the steuerrath's

qualification of my behavior.

"How!" he exclaimed. "Arthur, what does this mean?"

But Arthur was not in condition to give an intelligible answer. He

stammered out something, and rushed toward me, apparently with the

intention of striking me, but his father caught his arm and led him

away, speaking very earnestly to him in a low tone, and as he went he

threw a furious look at me.

My blood, already excited, was now boiling in my veins. The next thing

I remember I was walking arm-in-arm with the commerzienrath--I have

never been able to understand how I did it--and passionately

complaining to him of the crying outrage I had received from my best

friend, for whom I was at all times ready to sacrifice fortune and

blood. The commerzienrath seemed as if he would die with laughing.

"Fortune and blood!" he cried; "as for the fortune"--here he shrugged

his shoulders and blew out his cheeks--"and as for the blood"--here he

nudged me with his elbow in the side. "Full blood, capital blood, of

course. I have had one of the breed myself; a Kippenreiter! Baroness

Kippenreiter! My Hermann, at all events, is of the half blood. There

she runs; is she not an angel? Pity she was not a boy: that's the

reason I always call her Hermann. Hermann! Hermann!"

The little maid came running: she had on a red scarf, which her father,

after kissing her, wrapped closer around her delicate shoulders.

"Is she not an angel--a pride?" he went on taking my arm again. "She

shall have a count for a husband; not a poor, penniless sprig of

nobility, like my brother-in-law, nor like his drunken brother at

Zehrendorf, nor the other, that sneaking fellow, the penitentiary

superintendent at What-d'ye-call-it. No, a real count, a fellow six

feet high, just like you, my boy, just like you!"

The short commerzienrath tried to lay his two fat hands upon my

shoulders, and tipsy emotion blinked in his eyes.

"You are a capital fellow, a splendid fellow. Pity you are such a poor

devil; you should be my son-in-law. But I must call you _thou_: thou

mayst say _thou_ to me, too, brother!" and the worthy man sobbed upon

my breast and called for champagne, apparently with a view of solemnly

ratifying the bond, of brotherhood after the ancient fashion.

I have my doubts whether he carried this design into effect: at all

events I remember nothing of the ceremony, which could scarcely have

escaped my memory. But I remember that not long after I was in the

engine-room with a bottle of wine, hobnobbing with my friend Klaus, and

swearing that he was the best and truest fellow in the world, and that

I would appoint him head-stoker in hell as soon as I got there, which

would not be long coming as I must have a settlement with father this

evening, and that I would let myself be torn in pieces for him at any

time, and that I would be glad if it were done right at once, and that

if the great black fellow there did not stop swinging his long iron arm

up and down I would lay my head under it, and there would be an end of

George Hartwig.

How the good Klaus brought me out of this suicidal frame of mind, and

how he got me up the ladder again, I cannot say; it must have been

managed somehow, for as we steamed into the harbor I was sitting on

deck, watching the masts of the anchored ships glide past us, and the

stars glittering through the spars and cordage. The crescent moon that

was standing over the spire of the church of St Nicholas seemed

suddenly to drop behind it, but it was I that dropped, as the _Penguin_

struck the timbers of the wharf, on which there was again assembled a

crowd of people, not hurrahing, however, as when we started, but, as it

seemed to me, strangely silent; and, as I made my way through them,

staring at me I thought in a singular manner, so that I felt as if

something terrible must have happened, or was on the point of

happening, and that I was in some mysterious way the cause of it.

I stood before my father's small house in the narrow Water street. A

light was glimmering through the closed shutters of the room to the

left of the front door, by which I knew that my father was at home--he

usually took a solitary walk around the town-wall at this hour. Could

it be so very late, then? I took out my watch and tried to make out the

time by the moonlight--for the street-lamps were never lighted in

Uselin on moonlight nights--but could not succeed. No matter, I said to

myself, it is all one! and grasped resolutely the brass knob of the

front door. To my feverish hand it felt cold as ice.

CHAPTER III.

As I closed the door behind me, old Frederica, who, since my mother's

death, had been housekeeper for my father, came suddenly out of the

small room on the right. By the light of a lamp burning dimly on the

hall-table I saw the good old woman throw up her hands and stare at me

with wide, frightened eyes. "Has anything happened to my father?" I

stammered, seizing the table to support myself What with the warm

atmosphere of the house after the fresh night-air, and my alarm at

Frederica's terrified looks, my breath failed me, the blood seemed to

rush to my head, and the room began to go round.

"Wretched boy, what have you done?" piteously exclaimed the old woman.

"In heaven's name, what has happened?" I cried, seizing her by both

hands.

Here my father opened the door of his room and appeared upon the

threshold. Being a large man and the door small, he nearly filled up

the doorway.

"Thank God!" I murmured to myself.

At this moment I experienced no other feeling than that of joyful

relief from the anxiety which seemed on the point of suffocating me; in

the next, this natural emotion gave way to another, and we glared at

each other like two foes who suddenly meet, after one has long been

seeking the other, and the other nerves himself for the result, be it

what it may, from which he now sees there is no escape.

"Come in," said my father, making way for me to pass into his room.

I obeyed: there was a humming noise in my ears, but my step was firm;

and if my heart beat violently in my breast, it was certainly not with

fear.

As I entered, a tall black figure slowly rose from my father's large

study-chair---my father allowed no sofa in his house--it was Professor

Lederer. I stood near the door, my father to the right, by the stove,

the professor at the writing-table in front of the lamp, so that his

shadow reached from the ceiling to the floor, and fell directly upon

me. No one moved or spoke; the professor wished to leave the first word

to my father, and my father was under too much excitement to speak. In

this way we stood for about half a minute, which seemed to me an

eternity, and during which the certainty flashed into my mind that if

the professor did not immediately leave the room and the house, all

possible chance of an explanation between my father and myself was cut

off.

"Misguided young man," at last began the professor.

"Leave me alone with my father, Herr Professor," I interrupted him.

The professor looked at me as if he could not believe his ears. A

delinquent, a criminal--for such I was in his eyes--to dare to

interrupt his judge in such a tone, and with such a request--it was

impossible.

"Young man," he began again, but his tone was not as assured as the

first time.

"I tell you, leave us alone together," I cried with a louder voice, and

making a motion towards him.

"He is mad," said the professor, taking a hasty step backwards, which

brought him in contact with the table.

"Sirrah!" exclaimed my father, stepping quickly forward, as if to

protect the professor from my violence.

"If I am mad," I said, turning my burning eyes from one to the other,

"so much the greater reason for leaving us alone."

The professor looked round for his hat, which stood behind him on the

table.

"No; remain, remain," said my father, his voice quivering with passion.

"Is this audacious boy again to have his insolent way? I have too long

been culpably negligent; it is high time to take other measures."

My father began to pace up and down the room, as he always did when

violently agitated.

"Yes, to take other measures," he continued. "This has gone on far too

long. I have done all I could; I have nothing to reproach myself with;

but I will not become a public by-word for the sake of a perverse boy.

If he refuses to do what is his plain duty and obligation, then have I

no further duty or obligation towards him; and let him see how he can

get through the world without me."

He had not once looked at me while he uttered these words in a voice

broken with passion. Later in life I saw a painting representing the

Roman holding his burning hand in the glowing coals, and looking

sideways upon the ground with an expression of intensest agony. It

brought at once into my mind the remembrance of my father at this

fateful moment.

"Your father is right"--commenced for the third time the professor, who

held it his duty to strike in while the iron was hot--"when was there

ever a father who has done more for his children than your excellent

parent, whose integrity, industry and virtue have become a proverb, and

who through your fault is now deprived of the crowning ornament of a

good citizen; that is, a well-disciplined son, to be the stay of his

declining years. Is it not enough that inevitable fate has already hard

smitten this excellent man--that he has lost a dear consort and a son

in the bloom of youth? Shall he now lose the last, the Benjamin of

his old age? Shall his unwearied solicitude, his daily and nightly

prayers----"

My father was a man of strictest principles, but far from devout, in

the ordinary acceptation of the word; an untruth was his abhorrence,

and it was an untruth to say that he had prayed by night and day; and

besides, he had an excessive, almost morbid modesty, and the

professor's panegyric struck him as exaggerated and ill-timed.

"Let all that pass, Herr Professor"--he interrupted the learned man

rather impatiently--"I say again, I have done my duty. Enough! let him

do his. I want nothing of him--nothing--nothing whatever--not so much

as"--and he brushed one hand over the other; "but this I will have, and

if he refuses----"

My father had worked himself into a rage again, and my apparent

composure only further exasperated him. Strange! Had I fallen to

prayers and entreaties, I know that my father would have despised me,

and yet, because I did what he himself would most assuredly have done

in my position, because I was silent and stubborn, he hated me at this

moment as one hates anything that stands in one's way, and which yet

cannot be spurned aside with contempt.

"You have been guilty of a heavy offence, George Hartwig"--the

professor began again in a declamatory tone--"that of leaving the

Gymnasium without the permission of your teachers. I will not speak of

the boundless disrespect with which, as so often before, you rejected

the precious opportunity offered you of acquiring knowledge: I will

only speak of the terrible guilt of disobedience, of insolent defiance

of orders, of the evil example that your disgraceful conduct has

presented to your class-mates. If Arthur von Zehren's facile temper has

at last been warped into confirmed frivolity, this is the evil fruit of

your bad example. Never would that misguided boy have dared to do what

he has done to-day----"

As I knew the misguided boy so much better than he, I here broke

into a loud, contemptuous laugh, which drove the professor completely

beyond his self-control. He caught up his hat, and muttering some

unintelligible words, apparently expressing his conviction that I was

lost beyond all possibility of reformation, was about to leave the

room, when he was detained by my father.

"One moment, Herr Professor," he said, and then turning to me--"You

will instantly ask pardon of your teacher for this additional

insolence--instantly!"

"I will not," I replied.

"Instantly!" thundered my father.

"I will not!" I repeated.

"Once more, will you, or will you not?"

He stood before me his whole frame quivering with anger. His naturally

sallow complexion had turned of an ashy gray, the veins of his brow

were swollen, his eyes flashed. His last words had been spoken in a

hoarse, hissing tone.

"I will not," I said for the third time.

My father raised his arm as if to strike me, but he did not strike; his

arm slowly descended, and with outstretched hand he pointed to the

door:

"Begone!" he said, slowly and firmly. "Leave my house forever!"

I looked straight into his eyes; I was about to say something--perhaps

"Forgive me, father; I will ask _your_ forgiveness;" but my heart lay

like a stone in my breast; my teeth were clenched like a vice; I could

not speak. I moved silently towards the door. The professor hurried

after me and seized my arm, no doubt with the kindest intentions; but I

saw in him only the cause of my disgrace. I thrust him roughly aside,

flung the door to after me, ran past the old housekeeper--the good old

creature had evidently been listening, for she stood there wringing her

hands, the picture of despair--and out of the house into the street.

CHAPTER IV.

I ran for a short distance like a madman, when suddenly my limbs began

to totter under me; the moonlit roofs, the lighted windows in some of

the houses, danced wildly before my eyes; the fumes of the wine I had

been drinking, repressed for a while by my mental excitement, now rose

again to my brain; I had to lean against a wall to keep myself from

falling.

I had probably remained for a few minutes in a state of partial

insensibility when the voices of some maids, who were bringing water

from the adjacent fountain, recalled me to consciousness. I roused

myself, and staggered down the street. Soon my strong natural

constitution began to assert itself; my steps grew firmer, and I began

to consider what I should do, and first of all, whither I should go.

The idea of seeking lodgings at an inn I rejected at once; I had never

yet passed a night from home; and besides, my whole stock of money did

not exceed one _thaler_--my father always kept me on a very meagre

allowance of pocket-money--and I had an indistinct notion that I should

have to make this slender sum go a long way. Had I not quarreled with

Arthur and parted from him in anger, I should probably have gone to

him; but as it was, I felt it impossible to present myself at his house

as a supplicant; and, besides, by this time he was most likely sleeping

off his intoxication, and his parents had never been friendly disposed

towards me. The commerzienrath! He had embraced me, called me _thou_

and _brother_: he would assuredly receive me with rapture, have me

shown to a magnificent chamber, with a grand four-post curtained

bed----

But while I was indulging in the picture of my brilliant reception at

the commerzienrath's, I was hastening steadily in the opposite

direction, towards the harbor. I passed some low taverns in which

sailors were roaring out coarse songs. How if I went in and joined the

drinkers, and to-morrow went out into the wide world a sailor, like my

brother Fritz? That would be a way to be revenged upon my father! To

lose two sons--both in the same way! And then to perish at sea, and my

corpse to lie at the bottom of the ocean, where my brother's bones had

long been lying! "Shame upon you, George!"--I said to myself--"shame!

The poor old man!"

How if I turned back? The professor had certainly long since left

the house. My father was alone in his room. I would go to him and

say--"Strike me if you will, father; I will not resist; I will not move

an eyelid!"

But I did not return, nor even slacken my pace; I had already left the

town behind, and was now in the wide street of the suburb, on both

sides of which stood the little cottages which at this season were

chiefly occupied by the bathing-guests. Here and there they shone

through the dark trees; some of them had lamps burning in glass globes

at the doors, and under trellises, and in the little gardens sat

cheerful groups; song and laughter and the merry voices of children

came up on the pleasant evening air; a light breeze just stirred the

tops of the trees over my head, and fire-flies twinkled in the bushes.

The moist, warm breeze from the sea seemed to refresh me; how pleasant

it must be, I thought, over there beyond the houses; and on the

instant, Smith Pinnow's cottage came into my mind. The very thing!

there I was sure of a shelter. The old man would give me a bed, or at

least a shake-down in the forge; or there was the old woman's great

arm-chair--certainly she could not sit crouching in it all night as

well as all day. Pity Klaus was not at home; but then the pretty

Christel was there. Christel had always been a favorite of mine;

indeed, at one time I had fancied myself really in love with her, and

her charms had attracted me to the hut at least quite as often as the

old man's four double-barrels and the long single-barrel, or the mulled

wine which he used to sell in the winter to the skaters that thronged

the beach.

Strange light-heartedness of youth! At this moment all the mischief I

had done, my father's grief, my own serious position, were all

forgotten; or, if not forgotten, they were only the dark background

upon which shone brightly and cheerily the picture of the old ruinous

hut with the glowing forge-fire, and above all the pretty figure of the

brisk Christel moving lightly about. What was the school--what was my

father's house and all the rest of my slavery to me now? At other

times, when I had been out at this hour, I was haunted with anxiety how

I should get in without the knowledge of my father, who went to bed

punctually at half-past nine: now my father had himself driven me from

his house. No need now to pull off my boots at the door, and creep

softly up the creaking stair to my chamber; I was a free man and could

do what I chose, and come and go at my pleasure.

The wide street and the suburbs were now behind me; I strode along

the well-known path, on my left a little meadow, on my right a

potato-field, here and there a solitary tree, blackly defined against

the clear starlit sky, and on either side the water, whose hollow sound

I heard plainer and plainer as the tongue of land narrowed, especially

towards the west, the windward quarter, where lay the open sea. I

noticed for the first time that I had no cap. I had either lost it

or left it by the lamp on the hall-table; so much the better, the

sea-breeze could play freely around my heated temples and in my loose

hair.

A pair of wild swans flew high above me; I could not see them, but

heard their peculiar wailing cry--two simple notes that rang strangely

through the silence of the night. "Good speed!" I called out to them:

"Good speed, my good comrades!"

A strangely happy feeling, mingled of sadness and joy, came over me,

such as I had never known before. I could have thrown myself upon the

earth and wept; I could have leaped and shouted in exultation. I could

not then comprehend what it was that so singularly possessed me. Now I

know well what it was: it was the sense of delight that must thrill

through the fish when he darts like an arrow through the liquid

crystal, the bird when he sweeps on expanded pinions through the air,

the stag when he bounds over the wild plain; the rapture that thrills

man's breast when in the full glow of youth and vigor he feels himself

one with the great mother, Nature. The fore-feeling of this delight,

the longing to taste it, are what drives the man from the narrow round

of circumstances in which he was born, out into the wide world, across

seas, into the desert, to the peaks of the Alps, anywhere where the

winds blow free, where the heaven broadens grandly above, where he must

risk his life to win it.

Does this after-thought excuse the insolent obstinacy of which I had

been guilty towards my father; and the terrible rashness with which I

staked my whole future on a cast of the die? Assuredly not. I will

excuse nothing, extenuate nothing; but simply narrate what happened to

me and within me during these events and those that followed; only

giving an explanation here and there when circumstances seem to require

it. Let the story tell its own moral; only this will I add, for the

consolation of thoughtful souls, that if, as cannot be gainsaid, my

conduct deserved punishment, this punishment was dealt out to me

speedily, and that in no stinted measure.

But at the time the haggard form with the lame foot was still too far

behind to cast the shade of her terrors upon me; two other figures,

however, as I hastened with a quickened pace over the heath, appeared

in sight, who had assuredly nothing spectral about them, for they were

standing in a close embrace. They sprang apart, with a cry of alarm

from a female voice, as, turning sharply around a hillock, I came

directly upon them. The maiden caught up a great basket, which she had

set upon the ground, having just had other employment for her arms, and

her companion gave an "Ahem!" which was so loud and so confused that it

could only have proceeded from a very innocent breast.

"Good evening," I said; "I trust----"

"Good Lord! is it really you?" said the man. "Why, Christel, only think

it's him!"--and Klaus caught Christel Möwe, who was about taking to

flight, by her dress, and detained her.

"Oh! I thought it was _him_!" stammered Christel, whose mind did not

seem entirely relieved by the discovery that if they had been espied it

was by a good friend.

Although the position in which Klaus and Christel evidently stood to

each other did not exactly require an explanation, still I was somewhat

astonished. As long as Klaus lived with his father, from the

commencement of our friendship, I had never detected in the good

fellow's heart anything more than brotherly affection for his pretty

adopted sister; but then that was four years ago. Klaus was but sixteen

when he went to work with locksmith Wangerow; and perhaps this

temporary separation had aroused the love which otherwise would have

calmly slumbered on, and possibly never awakened of itself. This was

confirmed by what the lovers themselves told me, as we walked slowly on

together towards the forge, often stopping for a minute at a time when

the story reached a point of particularly critical interest. One of

these points--and indeed the most serious--was the strongly and even

violently expressed aversion of old Pinnow to the engagement. Klaus did

not say so, but from all that I gathered I surmised that it was not

altogether impossible that the old man himself had cast an eye upon his

pretty adopted daughter; at least I could see no other reasonable

explanation of the fact that year by year, and day by day, he had grown

more morose and rancorous towards Klaus, and at last, after much

snarling and storming over his gadding about, and his shameful waste

of time, had ended by forbidding him the house, without the good

fellow--as he solemnly asseverated, and I believed him--having ever

given him the slightest cause of complaint. Therefore they--the

lovers--were under the necessity of keeping their meetings secret, a

proceeding not without considerable difficulties, as the old man was

extraordinarily watchful and cunning. For instance, he would send the

deaf and dumb apprentice, Jacob, to the town to make the necessary

purchases, although he was certain to make some blunder or other; and

to-day he would not have sent Christel, had he not heard that Klaus had

some late work to do on board the steamer, that would prevent his

coming ashore.

As I had a sincere affection for the good Klaus, who had been my

comrade in many a merry frolic by land and water, and was no less fond

of the rosy, soft-voiced Christel Möwe, I felt the liveliest sympathy

with them; and improbable though it may seem, their love, with its

sorrows and its joys, and the possibility of its happy termination, lay

at this moment nearer my heart than the thought of my own fortune. My

mind, however, recurred to my own situation, when, as we reached a

slight elevation in the path, the forge, with the light of the

kitchen-fire shining through its low window, appeared close at hand,

and Klaus asked if we should now turn back. He then for the first time

learned that it was no mere evening stroll that had brought me so far

from the town across the heath, and that my intention was to ask his

father for shelter for a day at least, or perhaps for several days. At

the same time I briefly explained to him the cause that compelled me to

so singular a step.

Klaus seemed greatly affected by what he heard; he grasped me by the

hand, and taking me a little aside, asked in an agitated whisper if I

had well considered what I was about? My father, he said, could not

mean to deal so harshly with me, and would certainly forgive me if I

returned at once. He himself would go and prepare the way, and let the

storm spend its first wrath upon him.

"But, Klaus, old fellow," I said, "you are no better off than I. We are

comrades in misery: your father has forbidden you his house, just as

mine has done with me. What difference is there between us?"

"This difference," Klaus answered, "that I have done nothing to give my

father the right to be angry with me, while you tell me yourself that

you--don't take it hard of me--have been playing a very ugly trick."

I answered that, be that as it might, home I would never go. What

further I should do, I did not know: I would come on board the steamer

to-morrow and talk the matter over with him; it was very likely that I

would need his assistance.

Klaus, who saw that my resolution was taken, and who had always been

accustomed to adapt himself to my plans, gave my hand another hearty

grasp, and said: "Well, then, till to-morrow."

His good heart was so full of what he had just heard that he was going

off without bidding Christel good-by, had I not, laughing, called his

attention to this highly reprehensible oversight. But he did not get

the kiss I had hoped for him; Christel said I had been very wicked; and

so we departed, Klaus going back towards the town, and soon

disappearing in the darkness, and Christel and I keeping on to the

forge, where through the window the fire was now blazing brighter than

before.

"How does the old man come to be working so late?" I asked the girl.

"It just happens so," she answered.

I put other questions, to all of which I received but the briefest

possible answers. Christel and I had always been the best friends in

the world, and I had ever known her as the brightest, merriest

creature. I could only suppose that she had been seriously offended by

my bit of sportiveness. As it was never my nature, unless when overcome

with passion, to wound the feelings of any one, least of all a poor

girl of whom I was really fond, so I did not for a moment hesitate to

frankly ask her pardon, if I had offended her, saying that what I had

done was with the best intention in the world, namely, that her lover

should not, through my fault, leave her without a good-by kiss.

Christel made me no answer, and I was about placing my arm around her

trim waist, in order to give more emphasis to my petition for

forgiveness, when the girl suddenly burst into tears, and in a

frightened tone said that I must not go with her to "his" house; and

that it was anyhow of no use, for "he" would certainly give me no

lodging there.

This declaration and this warning would have made most persons

hesitate. The forge was in such a lonely place, the reputation of the

old smith was far from being a good one, and I was sufficiently versed

in robber-stories to recall the various romantic situations where the

robber's daughter warns the hero, who has lost his way, against the

remaining members of her estimable family, and at the same time reveals

her love for him in a style equally discreet and intelligent. But I was

never subject to those attacks of timidity to which imaginative persons

are so liable; and besides, I thought, if the old man is jealous of his

son--and this I set down as certain--why may he not be so of me?--and

in the third place, a little cur at this moment rushed, furiously

barking, at my legs, and simultaneously appeared a stout figure at the

open door of the forge, and Smith Pinnow's familiar voice called out in

his deep bass: "Who is there?"

"A friend--George Hartwig," I answered, tossing the little yelping

brute with my foot into the bushes.

Christel must have given the old man an intimation of what I wanted as

she pushed by him into the house, for he said at once, without moving

from his post in the doorway, "I can give you no lodging here; my house

is not an inn."

"I know that very well, Pinnow," I answered, stepping up and offering

my hand; "but I thought you were my friend."

The old man did not take my hand, but muttered something that I did not

catch.

"I shall not return home, you maybe sure of that," I continued. "So, if

you do not mean that I shall lie here in the bushes, and join your dog

in howling at the moon, you will let me in, and mix me a glass of

grog--half-and-half, you know; and take a glass or two yourself: it

will do you good, and put better thoughts in your head."

With these words, I laid my hand on the shoulder of the inhospitable

smith, and gave him a hearty shake, in token of my friendly feelings.

"Would you attack a weak old man in his own house?" he exclaimed in an

angry tone, and in my turn I felt on my shoulders two hands whose size

and steely hardness were, for "a weak old man," quite remarkable. My

blood, which the cooler night air had by no means yet lowered to the

desirable temperature, needed but little provocation; and besides, here

was too favorable an opportunity to put to the proof my much-admired

strength; so I seized my antagonist, jerked him at a single effort from

the threshold, and hurled him a couple of paces to one side. I had not

the slightest design of forcing an entrance into his house; but the

smith, who feared that this was my intention, and was resolved to

prevent it at all hazards, threw himself upon me with such fury that I

was obliged in self-defence to exert my whole strength. I had had many

a hard tussle in my time, and had always come off victorious; but never

before had I been so equally matched as now. Perhaps it was from some

small remains of regard for the old man who now assaulted me, in sailor

fashion, with heavy blows of his fist, that I refrained from repaying

him in the same coin, but endeavored to grapple with him. At last I

felt that I had him in my power: seizing a lower hold, I raised him

from the ground, and the next moment he would have measured his length

upon the sand, when a peal of laughter resounded close at hand.

Startled, I lost my hold, and my antagonist, no sooner felt himself

free, than he rushed upon me again. Unprepared for this new attack, I

lost my balance, stumbled and fell, my antagonist above me. I felt his

hands of iron at my throat, when suddenly the laughter ceased. "For

shame, old man!" cried a sonorous voice, "he has not deserved that of

you;" and a pair of strong arms tore the smith from me. I sprang to my

feet and confronted my deliverer, for so I must call him, as without

his interference I do not know what would have happened to me.

CHAPTER V.

He was, as well as I could distinguish by the faint light of the moon

that was now partly obscured by clouds, a man of tall stature and

slender frame; so alert in his movements that I took him to be young,

or at least comparatively young, until, at a sudden turn he made, the

flickering glare of the fire through the open door fell upon his face,

and I saw that his features were deeply furrowed, apparently with age.

And as now, holding my hand, he led me into the forge, which glowed

with a strong light, he seemed to me to be neither young nor old, or

rather both at once.

It is true, the moment was not precisely favorable to physiognomical

investigations. The stranger surveyed me with large eyes that flashed

uncannily out of the crumpled folds and wrinkles that surrounded them

from head to foot, and felt my shoulders and arms, as a jockey might

examine a horse that has got over a distance in three minutes that it

takes other horses five to accomplish. Then, turning on his heel, he

burst into a peal of laughter, as the smith turned upon the deaf and

dumb apprentice, Jacob, who all this time had been blowing the bellows,

quite indifferent to what was going forward, and gave him a push which

spun him around like a top.

"Bravo! bravo!" cried the stranger, "that was well done! Easier

handling him than the other--eh, Pinnow?"

"The other may thank his stars that he gets off so easily," growled the

smith, as he drew a red-hot bar from the coals.

"I am ready to try it again at any time, Pinnow," I cried, and was

delighted that the stranger, with an amused look, nodded his

approbation, while with affected solemnity he cried: "For shame young

man, for shame! a poor old man! Do you consider that a thing to boast

of?"

The smith had seized his heavy forge-hammer, and was plying the glowing

bar with furious strokes until the sparks flew in showers, and the

windows rattled in the frames.

The stranger stopped his ears. "For heaven's sake, man," he cried,

"stop that infamous noise! Who in the devil's name can stand it, do you

think? Do you suppose that I have your plebeian ears? Stop, I say,

or----"

He gave the smith a push, as the latter had just before done to his

apprentice, but the old man stood more firmly than the young one. With

a furious look he raised his hammer--it seemed as if the next moment he

would bring it down on the stranger's head.

"Have you gone mad?" said the stranger, casting a stern look at the

enraged smith. Then, as the latter slowly lowered the hammer, he began

speaking to him in an undertone, to which the old man answered in a

muttering voice, in which I thought I could at intervals distinguish my

own name.

"It may be," said the stranger; "but here he is now, and here he shall

stay."

"Excuse me," I said, "I have not the least idea of thrusting my company

upon you: I would not have set my foot in the house, had not----"

"Now _he's_ beginning again," exclaimed the stranger, with a laugh of

half vexation; "will you ever come to your senses, you two? What I want

is peace and quiet, and above all, some supper; and you shall keep me

company. Hallo! Christel! Where is the girl? You, Pinnow, take off your

leather apron and come in too."

With these words he opened the low door on the right of the forge-fire,

which led from the forge into the living-room. I had often enough been

in the latter, and indeed I knew the whole place well: the living-room

was a moderately large apartment, but only half as high from floor to

ceiling as the forge; the sleeping-rooms lying above it, which were

reached by a steep stair, or sort of ladder, in a corner of the room,

passing through a hole in the ceiling. There was also a door, reached

by two steps, which led into a small side-room, where the smith's

mother slept. This old woman, a prodigy of age, was now crouching in

her easy-chair in her usual corner, close to the stove, which was

heated from without. In the middle of the room stood a heavy oaken

table, and on the table the great basket which Christel had brought

from the town. Christel herself was apparently searching for something

in a closet at the further end of the room.

"Now, Christel," said the stranger, taking a light to look into the

basket, "what have you brought? That looks inviting. But bestir

yourself, for I am hungry as a wolf--and you too," turning to me--"are

you not? One is always hungry at your age. Come this way to the window.

Sit down."

He made me sit on one of the two benches that stood in the recess of

the window, seated himself on the other, and continued in a somewhat

lower tone, with a glance at Christel, who was now, with a noiseless

despatch, beginning to set the table:----

"A pretty girl: rather too much of a blonde, perhaps; she is a

Hollander; but that is in keeping here: is not the old woman nodding

there in her easy chair just like a picture by Terburg? Then old

Pinnow, with the face of a bull-dog and the figure of a seal, and Jacob

with his carp's eyes! But I like it; I seldom fail, when I have been in

the town without my carriage, as happens to-day, to look in here, and

let old Pinnow set me over; especially as with a good wind I can get

across in half an hour, while by the town-ferry it takes me a full

hour, and then afterwards as much more before I reach my estate."

The stranger spoke in a courteous, engaging manner, which pleased me

exceedingly; and while speaking, repeatedly stroked with his left hand

his thick beard, which fell half-way down his breast, and from time to

time glanced at a diamond ring on his finger. I began to feel a great

respect for the strange gentleman, and was extremely curious to know

who he was, but could not venture to ask him.

"What an abominable atmosphere in this room!" he suddenly exclaimed;

"enough to make one faint;" and he was about opening the window at

which we were sitting, but checking himself, he turned and said: "To be

sure! the old woman might take cold. Christel, can't you get the old

lady to bed?"

"Yes, sir; directly," said Christel, who had just finished setting the

table, and going up to the old woman, screamed in her ear,

"Grandmother, you must go to bed!"

The old woman received this intimation with evident disfavor, for she

shook her head energetically, but at last allowed herself to be raised

from her crouching position, and tottered from the room, leaning on

Christel's arm. When Christel reached the steps that led to the side

room she looked round. I sprang to her assistance, and carried the old

lady up the steps, while Christel opened the door, through which she

then disappeared with her charge.

"Well done, young man," said my new acquaintance, as I came back to

him; "we must always be polite to ladies. And now we will open the

window."

He did so, and the night air rushed in. It had grown darker; the moon

was hidden behind a heavy mass of cloud that was rolling up from the

west; from the sea, which was but a few paces distant, came a hollow

roaring and plashing of the waves breaking on the beach; a few drops of

rain drove into my face.

The stranger looked out intently at the weather. "We must be off

presently," I heard him say to himself. Then turning to me: "But now we

will have some supper; I am almost dying of hunger. If Pinnow prefers

grumbling to eating, let him consult his taste. Come."

He took his seat at the table, inviting me by a gesture to place myself

beside him. I had, during the day, eaten far less than I had drunk, and

my robust frame, which had long since overcome the effects of my

intoxication, now imperatively demanded sustenance. So I very willingly

complied with the invitation of my entertainer; and indeed the contents

of the basket which Christel had now unpacked were of a nature to tempt

a far more fastidious palate than mine. There were caviare, smoked

salmon, ham, fresh sausage, pickles; nor was a supply of wine wanting.

Two bottles of Bordeaux, with the label of a choice vintage, stood upon

the table, and out of the basket peeped the silvery neck of a bottle of

Champagne.

"Quite a neat display," said the stranger, filling both our glasses,

helping himself first from one dish and then from another, and inviting

me to follow his example, while chatting at intervals in his pleasant

fashion. Without his questioning me directly, we had somehow come to

speak of my affairs; and, unsuspicious and communicative as I was,

before the first bottle was emptied I had given him a pretty fair

account of my neither long nor eventful life. The occurrences of the

past day, so momentous for me, occupied rather more time in the

recital. In the ardor of my narration, I had, without observing it,

filled and drunk several glasses of wine; the weight that had laid upon

my spirits had disappeared; my old cheerful humor had returned, all the

more as this meeting with the mysterious stranger under such singular

circumstances, gave my imagination room for the wildest conjectures. I

described our flight from the school, I mimicked Professor Lederer's

voice and manner, I threw all my powers of satire into my sketch of the

commerzienrath, and I fear that I smote the table with my fist when I

came to speak of Arthur's shameful ingratitude, and the outrageous

partiality of the steuerrath. But here my talkative tongue was checked;

the melancholy dimness of my father's study spread a gloom over my

spirits; I fell into a tragic tone, as I swore that though I should

have to go on a pilgrimage to the North Cape, barefoot, as I was

already bareheaded, and beg my bread from door to door--or, as begging

was not my forte, should I have to take to the road--I would never more

set foot in my father's house again, after he had once driven me from

it. That what I was in duty bound to bear from a parent had here

reached its limits; that nature's bond was cancelled, and that my

resolution was as firmly fixed as the stars in the sky, and if any one

chose to ridicule it, he did it at his peril.

With these words I sprang from the table, and set down the glass from

which I had been drinking, so violently, that it shivered to pieces.

For the stranger, whose evident enjoyment of my story had at times

encouraged me, and at others embarrassed, when I came to my peroration,

which was delivered with extreme pathos, burst into a paroxysm of

laughter which seemed as if it would never end.

"You have been kind to me," I exclaimed; "true, I think I could have

held my own without your assistance; but no matter for that--you came

to my help at the right moment, and now you have entertained me with

food and drink. You are welcome to laugh as much as you please, but I,

for my part, will not stay to listen to it. Farewell!"

I looked round for my cap; then, remembering that I had none, strode to

the door, when the stranger, who in the meantime had also risen from

his seat, hastened after me, caught me by the arm, and in the grave but

kindly tone that had previously so charmed me, said:

"Young man, I entreat your pardon. And now come back and take your seat

again. I offer you the word of a nobleman that I will respect your

feelings, even if your expression of them takes a somewhat singular

form."

His dark eyes gleamed, and there were twitchings in the maze of

wrinkles that surrounded them.

"You are jesting with me," I said.

"I am not," he replied, "upon the word of a nobleman. On the contrary,

you please me extremely, and I was several times on the point of

interrupting your story to ask a favor of you. Come and stay awhile

with me. Whether you are reconciled with your father, as I hope, or if

the breach be past closing, as you believe, at all events you must

first have a roof over your head; and you cannot possibly stay here,

where you are evidently not wanted. As I said, I will feel it a favor

if you will accept my invitation. I cannot offer you much, but--there

is my hand! Good! now we will pledge good fellowship in champagne."

I had already forgiven my mysterious but amiable acquaintance, and

pledged him in the sparkling wine with all my heart. With merriment and

laughter we had soon emptied the flask, when the smith entered. He had

thrown off his leather apron, donned a sailor's jacket, and wrapped a

thick muffler round his muscular neck. It now struck me for the first

time that he had not on the great blue spectacles which for several

years I had never seen him without, and which he wore on account of his

alleged near-sightedness: and it now occurred to me that he was not

wearing them at the time of our quarrel. Still, I might be mistaken on

that point; but I had no time to reflect upon so unimportant a matter,

for my attention was at once fixed by some words exchanged in a low

tone between the smith and the stranger.

"Is it time?" asked the latter.

"It is," replied the smith.

"The wind is favorable?"

"Yes."

"Everything in order?"

"Except the anchor, which you would not let me finish."

"We can do without it."

"Not well."

The stranger stood for a few moments in thought; his handsome face

seemed suddenly to have grown twenty years older; he stroked his beard,

and I noticed that he was observing me from the corner of his eye. He

then caught the smith by the arm and led him out of the door, which he

closed behind him. Outside the door I heard them talking, but could

make out nothing, for the stranger spoke in a subdued voice, and the

smith's growling speech was at all times difficult to understand;

presently, however, the dialogue grew louder, and, as it seemed, more

and more vehement, especially on the part of the smith.

"I will have it so!" cried the stranger.

"And I say no!" maintained the smith.

"It is my affair."

"And my affair as well."

The voices sank again, and presently I heard the outer door creak. They

had left the forge; I stepped to the open window and saw them go to the

little shed close to the beach, by which Pinnow's boat was usually

drawn up on the sand. They disappeared in the shadow of the shed; then

I heard a chain rattle, and a grating on the sand; they were launching

the boat. All was then still: the only sounds audible were the stronger

roaring of the sea, mingled with the rush of the wind in the leaves of

the old oak, which threw its half-decayed boughs over the forge.

I heard a rustling in the room, and turned quickly round. It was

Christel; she stood behind me, looking with an intense gaze, as I had

just done, through the window into the darkness.

"Well, Christel!" I said.

She placed her finger on her lips, and whispered, "Hush!" then beckoned

me from the window. Surprised rather than alarmed, I followed her.

"What is the matter, Christel?"

"Don't go with them, whatever you do. And go away from here at once.

You cannot stay here."

"But, Christel, why not? And who is the gentleman?"

"I must not tell you; I must not speak his name. If you go with them,

you will learn it soon enough; but do not go!"

"Why? What will they do to me, Christel?"

"Do? They will do nothing to you. But do not go with them."

A noise was heard outside; Christel turned away and began clearing the

table, while the voices of the two who were returning from the beach

came nearer and nearer.

I do not know what another would have done in my place; I can only say

that the girl's warning produced upon me an effect precisely opposite

to that intended. True, I well remember that my heart beat quicker, and

that I cast a hurried glance at the four double-barrels and the long

fowling-piece that hung in the old places on the wall; but the desire

to go through with the adventure was now fully awaked in me. I felt

equal to any danger that might beset me; and, for the matter of that,

Christel had just said that no harm was intended to me.

Besides--and this circumstance is, perhaps, the real key to my conduct

that evening--the stranger, whoever he might be, with his partly

serious and partly jocose, half-sympathetic and half-mocking language,

had somehow established a mysterious influence over me. In later years,

when I heard the legend of the Piper of Hameln, whom the children were

irresistibly compelled to follow, I at once recalled this night and the

stranger.

He now appeared at the door, dressed in a coarse, wide sailor's jacket,

and wearing a low-crowned tarpaulin hat in place of his cloth cap.

Pinnow opened a press in the wall, and produced a similar outfit for

me, which the stranger made me put on.

"It is turning cold," he remarked, "and your present dress will be but

little protection to you, though I trust our passage will be a short

one. So: now you are equipped capitally: now let us be off."

The smith had stepped to Christel and whispered her a few words, to

which she made no reply. She had turned her back upon me since the men

had entered, and did not once turn her head as I bade her good-night.

"Come on," said the stranger.

We went through the forge, where the fire had now burnt down, and

stepped out into the windy night. After proceeding a few steps, I

turned my head: the light in the living-room was extinguished; the

house lay dark in the darkness, and the wind roared and moaned in the

dry branches of the old oak.

The noise of the sea had increased; the wind had freshened to a stiff

breeze; the moon had set; no star shone through the scudding clouds

which from time to time were lighted with a lurid gleam, followed by a

mutter of distant thunder.

We reached the boat which was already half in the water, and they made

me get on board, while the stranger, Pinnow, and the deaf and dumb

Jacob, who had suddenly made his appearance out of the darkness, and

was, as well as I could make out, also in sailor's dress and

fisherman's boots--pushed off. In a few minutes we were flying through

the water; the stranger stood at the helm, but presently yielded it to

Pinnow, when the latter with Jacob's assistance had finished setting

the sails, and took his seat beside me.

"Now, how do you like this?" he asked me.

"Glorious!" I exclaimed. "But I think, Pinnow, that you had better take

in another reef; we are carrying too much sail, and over yonder"--I

pointed to the west--"it has an ugly look."

"You seem to be no greenhorn," said the stranger.

Pinnow made no reply but gave the hasty order: "Take in the foresail,"

at the same time putting up the helm and letting the boat fall off the

wind. It was not a moment too soon, for a squall striking us an instant

after made her careen so violently that I thought she would founder,

though luckily she righted again. The jib was taken in altogether, and

the foresail now hoisted only half-mast high, and under this canvas we

flew through the waves, upon whose whitening crests played the pale

glare of the lightning at ever shorter intervals, and still louder and

louder followed the roll of the thunder.

After a while the squall abated as rapidly as it had come up, and the

stars began to shine here and there through the clouds. I came aft--I

had been helping Jacob to handle the sails--and took my seat again by

the stranger. He passed his hand over my jacket:

"You are wet to the skin," he said.

"So are we all," I answered.

"But you are not used to it."

"But I am nineteen."

"No older?"

"Not two months."

"You are a man."

I felt more pride from this short speech than I had ever felt shame

during the longest diatribe of Professor Lederer, or any of my other

teachers. There were few things which I would not have been willing at

that moment to attempt had the stranger required it; but he offered no

compact with the powers of darkness, nor anything of the sort, but only

advised me to lie down in the boat and be covered with a piece of

canvas, as the trip was likely to last longer than had been expected,

the wind having hauled round another quarter; I could be of no more

service now, and "Sleep is a warm cloak, as Sancho Panza says," he

added.

I protested, affirming that I could keep awake for three days and three

nights together; but I yielded to his insistence, and had hardly

stretched myself on the bottom of the boat, when sleep, which I had

thought so far, fell upon me heavy as lead.

How long I slept I do not exactly know; but I was awakened by the

grating of the keel upon the sand of the shore. The stranger helped me

up, but I was still so heavy with sleep that I cannot remember how I

got ashore. The night was still dark; I could distinguish nothing but

the gleaming crests of the waves breaking on a long level beach, from

which the land rose higher as it ran inward. When I had recovered my

full consciousness the boat had already pushed off; my unknown friend

and I were following a path that ascended among trees. He held me by

the hand, and in a friendly, pleasant manner pointed out the various

irregularities of the path, in which he seemed to know every stone and

every projecting root. At last we reached the top of the cliff; before

us lay the open country, and in the distance a dark pile, which I

gradually made out, in the dawning light, to be a mass of buildings,

with a park or wood of immense trees.

"Here we are," said the stranger at last, as, after passing through a

silent court-yard, we stood before a great dark building.

"Where?" I asked.

"At my house," he responded, laughing. We were now standing in the

hall, and he was trying to light a match.

"And where is that?" I asked again. I could not myself have told how I

found the boldness to put this question.

The match kindled; he lighted a lamp which was in readiness, and the

light fell upon his long dishevelled beard and haggard face, in which

the rain and surf seemed to have deepened every wrinkle to a fold and

every fold to a furrow. He looked at me fixedly with his large deep-set

eyes.

"At Zehrendorf," he replied, "the house of Malte von Zehren, whom they

call 'The Wild.' You don't regret having come with me?"

"That I do not," I answered him with energy.

CHAPTER VI.

On awaking the next morning, it was long ere I could arrive at a clear

consciousness of my situation. My sleep had been disturbed by frightful

dreams, which had left an oppression upon my spirits. It still seemed

to me that I heard my father's voice, when a part of my dream recurred

to my memory. I had been fleeing from my father, and came to a smooth

pond, into which I threw myself, to escape by swimming. But the smooth

pond suddenly changed into a stormy sea, upon whose waves I was now

tossed towards heaven, and now plunged into the abyss. I was paralyzed

with terror; and strove in vain to call to my father for help, while my

father did not see me, although he ran up and down the shore, within

reach of me, wringing his hands and breaking into loud lamentations

over his drowned son.

I passed my hand repeatedly over my brow to drive away the frightful

images, and opened my eyes and looking around, found myself in the room

into which my host had conducted me on the previous night. The light in

the great bare apartment was so dim, that I thought at first it must be

very early; but my watch had stopped at nine, and on examination I

discovered that this greenish twilight was produced by the thick

foliage of trees whose branches touched the solitary window. At this

moment a ray of sunlight found its way through some aperture, and fell

upon the wall in front of me, upon which I at first thought the most

singular and fantastic figures were painted, until closer observation

showed me that the dark hangings had here and there detached themselves

from the lighter ground, and hung in irregular strips, which seemed the

strange garments of grotesque forms.

Altogether the appearance of the room was as inhospitable as it well

could be: the plaster in several places had fallen from the ceiling,

and lay in white fragments upon the floor, which was laid in parquetry,

but now cracked in all directions. The whole furniture consisted of a

great canopied bed, the curtains of which were of faded green damask;

two high-backed chairs, covered with similar materials, one of which

possessed its normal complement of legs, while the other, which in

years had not yet learned to stand upon three, was propped against the

wall; and finally, a pine washstand painted white, in singular contrast

to the great oval mirror in a rich antique rococo frame, which hung

above it; although it is true that the gilding on this piece of

magnificence was in many places tarnished by age.

I made these observations while putting on my clothes, which in the

short time I had slept by no means dried as thoroughly as I could have

desired. But this was but a trifling discomfort: the thought that

troubled me was, how should I dress myself the next day, and after?

upon which followed the associate reflection:--what was going to become

of me altogether?

The answer to this question was by no means clear; and after some

consideration I hit upon the idea that it would be as well, before I

came to a decision--which in any event was not a matter of such instant

urgency--to consult my friendly host upon the subject. Singular enough!

up to this day I had always rejected the advice of those whose position

and knowledge best qualified them to give it, and had always maintained

that I knew best what I had to do; and now I found myself looking with

a sort of superstitious reliance to a man whom I had but just learned

to know, and that under circumstances by no means of a nature to

inspire confidence, and whose name was in evil repute, far and near. It

was in this fact, possibly, that lay the greatest attraction for me.

"The Wild Zehren" had held a place in my boyish imagination by the side

of Rinaldo Rinaldini and Karl Moor; and I had keenly envied my friend

Arthur, who used to tell the wildest stories about him, the possession

of such an uncle.

Of late years he had been less talked about: I once heard the

steuerrath, in a public garden, in the presence of my father and

others, thanking God that the "mad fellow" had at last shown some signs

of reformation, and the family might consider itself relieved from the

perpetual fear that sooner or later he would come to some bad end. At

the same time some allusions were made to a daughter, at which several

of the gentlemen whispered together, and Justizrath Heckepfennig

shrugged his shoulders. Later, Arthur told me that his cousin had

eloped with a young tutor, but had not gone far, as his uncle gave

chase to the fugitives and caught them before they reached the ferry.

She was very beautiful, he said further, and on that account he the

more regretted that his father and his uncle were on such unfriendly

terms, for, owing to this disagreement, he had never seen Constance (I

remembered the name) but once, and that was when she was a child.

All this and much more in this connection came into my mind while I

finished my simple toilet before the dim mirror with the tarnished

rococo frame; and as I thought of the pretty cousin, I felt chagrin at

the tardy development of the beard that had begun to sprout on my upper

lip. I caught up the sailor's hat which I had brought with me when I

landed, and left the room to look for Herr von Zehren.

Pretty soon it became evident that this very natural intention was not

so easy of accomplishment. The room which I left had, luckily, only two

doors in it; but that which I entered had three, so that I had to make

a choice between two, not including that which led into my chamber.

Apparently I did not hit upon the right one, for I came upon a narrow

corridor, very dimly lighted through a closed and curtained glass door.

Another which I tried, opened into a hall of stateliest dimensions, the

three windows of which looked out upon a large park-like garden. From

this hall I passed into a great two-windowed room looking upon the

court, and from this one happily back to the one adjoining my chamber,

from which I had set out. I had to laugh when I made this discovery,

but my laughter sounded so strangely hollow as to check my mirth at

once. And indeed it was no wonder if laughter had a strange sound in

these empty rooms, which seemed as if they had heard few sounds of

merriment in recent times, however joyous they might have been in years

by-gone. For this room was just as bare and cheerless as that in which

I had slept; with just such ragged hangings, crumbling ceilings, and

worm-eaten, half ruinous furniture, which might once have adorned a

princely apartment. And so was it with the other rooms, which I now

examined again more attentively than at first. Everywhere the same

signs of desolation and decay; everywhere mournful evidences of

vanished splendor: here and there upon the walls hung life-size

portraits, which seemed to be spectrally fading into the dark

background from which they had once shone brilliantly; in one room lay

immense piles of books in venerable leather bindings, among which a

pair of rats dived out of sight as I entered; in another, otherwise

entirely empty, was a harp with broken chords, and the scabbard of a

dress-sword, with its broad silken scarf. Everywhere rubbish, dust and

cobwebs; windows dim with neglect, except where their broken panes

offered a free passage to the birds that had scattered straw and dirt

around--to a plaster cornice still clung a pair of abandoned swallow's

nests; everywhere a stifling, musty atmosphere of ruin and decay.

After I had wandered through at least a half dozen more rooms, a lucky

turn brought me into a spacious hall, from which descended a broad

oaken staircase adorned with antique carved work. This staircase also,

that once with its stained windows, its dark panels reaching almost to

the ceiling, its antlers, old armor, and standards, must have presented

an unusually stately and imposing appearance, offered the same dreary

picture of desolation as the rest; and I slowly descended it amazed,

and to a certain extent confounded, by all that I had seen. More than

one step cracked and yielded as I placed my foot upon it, and as I

instinctively laid my hand upon the broad balustrade, the wood felt

singularly soft, but it was from the accumulated dust of years, into

which, indeed, the whole stair seemed slowly dissolving.

I knew that I had not come this way the previous night, when my host

conducted me to my chamber. A steep stair, as I afterwards learned, led

from a side hall directly to that dark corridor which adjoined the room

I had occupied. I had, therefore, never before been in the great hall

in which I was now standing; and as I did not wish to go knocking in

vain at half-a-dozen doors, and the great house-door that fronted the

stairs, proved to be locked, I succeeded with some difficulty in

opening a back-door, which luckily was only bolted, and entered a small

court. The low buildings surrounding this, had probably been used as

kitchens, or served other domestic purposes in former times; but at

present they were all vacant, and looked up piteously with their

empty window-frames and crumbling tile-roofs to the bare and ruinous

main-building, as a pack of half-starved dogs to a master who himself

has nothing to eat.

I was no longer a child: my organization was far from being a

susceptible one, nor did I ever lightly fall into the fantastic mood;

but I confess, that a strange and weird sensation came over me among

these corpses of houses from which the life had evidently long since

departed. So far I had not come upon the slightest trace of active

human life. As it was now, so it must have been for years, a trysting

place and tilt yard for owls and sparrows, rats and mice. Just so might

have looked a castle enchanted by the wickedest of all witches; and I

do not think that I should have been beyond measure astonished, if the

hag had herself arisen, with bristling hair, from the great kettle in

the wash-house, into which I cast a glance, and flown up through the

wide chimney upon one of the broom-sticks that were lying about.

This wash-house had a door opening upon a little yard surrounded by a

hedge, and divided by a deep trench, bridged by a half-rotten plank;

which yard, as was evident from the egg-shells and bones scattered

about, had formerly been a receptacle for the refuse of the kitchen,

but grass had grown over the old rubbish-heaps, and a pair of wild

rabbits darted at sight of me into their burrows in the trench. They

might possibly preserve some legend of a time when the trench had been

full of water, and these burrows the habitations of water-rats, but at

such a remote period of antiquity that the whole tradition ran into the

mythical.

Hearing a sound at hand which seemed to indicate the presence of a

human being, I pushed through the hedge into the garden, and following

the direction of the sound, found an old man who was loading a small

cart with pales, which he was breaking with a hatchet out of a high

stockade. This stockade had evidently once served as the fence of a

deer-park; in the high grass lay the ruins of two deer-sheds blown down

by the wind: the stags who used to feed from the racks, and try their

antlers against the paling, had probably long since found their way to

the kitchen, and why should the paling itself not follow?

So at least thought the withered old man whom I found engaged in this

singular occupation. When he first came upon the estate, which was in

the life-time of the present owner's father, there were forty head of

deer in the park, he said; but in the year '12, when the French landed

upon the island and took up quarters in the castle, more than half were

shot, and the rest broke out and were never recovered, though a part

were afterwards killed in the neighboring forest which belonged to

Prince Prora.

After giving me this information, the old man fell to his work again,

and I tried in vain to draw him into further conversation. His

communicativeness was exhausted, and only with difficulty could I get

from him that the master had gone out shooting, and would scarcely be

back before evening, perhaps not so soon.

"And the young lady?"

"Most likely up yonder," said the old man, pointing with his axe-handle

in the direction of the park; then slipping the straps of his cart over

his decrepit shoulders, he slowly dragged it along the grass-grown path

towards the castle. I watched him till he disappeared behind the

bushes; for a while I could still hear the creaking of his cart, and

then all was silent.

Silence without a sound, just as in the ruinous castle. But here the

silence had nothing oppressive; the sky here was blue, without even the

smallest speck of cloud; here shone the bright morning sun, throwing

the shadows of the aged oaks upon the broad meadows, and sparkling in

the rain-drops which the night's storm had left upon the bushes. Now

and then a light breeze stirred, and the long sprays, heavy with rain,

waved languidly, and the tall spires of grass bent before it.

It was all very beautiful. I inhaled deep draughts of the cool sweet

air, and once more felt the sense of delight that had come over me the

evening before, as the wild swans swept above me, high in air. How

often, in after days, have I thought of that evening and this morning,

and confessed to myself that I then, in spite of all, in spite of my

folly and frivolity and misconduct, was happy, unspeakably happy--a

short lived, treacherous bliss, it is true, but still bliss--a paradise

in which I could not stay, from which the stern realities of life, and

nature itself, expelled me--and yet a paradise!

Slowly loitering on, I penetrated deeper into the green wilderness, for

wilderness it was. The path was scarcely distinguishable amid the

luxuriant weeds and wild overgrowth of bushes--the path which in

by-gone days had been swept by the trains of ladies fair, and by which

the little feet of children had merrily tripped along. The surface grew

hilly; at the end lay the park, and over me venerable beeches arched

their giant boughs. Again the path descended towards an opening in the

forest, and I stood upon the margin of a moderately large, circular

tarn, in whose black water were reflected the great trees that

surrounded it nearly to the edge.

A few steps further, upon a slightly elevated spot, at the foot of a

tree whose gigantic size seemed the growth of centuries, was a low bank

of moss; upon the bank lay a book and a glove. I looked and listened on

all sides: all was still as death: only the sunlight played through the

green sprays, and now and then a leaf fluttered down upon the dark

water of the tarn.

I could not resist an impulse of curiosity: I approached the bank and

took up the book. It was Eichendorf's "Life of a Good-for-Nothing." I

had never seen the book, nor even heard of the author; but could not

refrain from smiling as I read the title: it was as though some one had

called me by name. But at that time I cared little for books: so I

replaced it, open, as I had found it, and picked up the glove, not,

however, without another cautious glance around, to see if the owner

might not be a witness of my temerity.

This glove, I at once divined, belonged to Arthur's beautiful

cousin--whose else could it be? The inference was simple enough; and,

indeed, the circumstance of a young lady leaving her glove on the spot

where she had been resting, had nothing in it remarkable. But the fancy

of a youth of my temperament is not fettered; and I confess that as I

held the little delicate glove in my hand, and inhaled its faint

perfume, my heart began to beat very unreasonably. I had walked, times

without number, past Emilie Heckepfennig's window in hope of a glance

from that charmer; and had even worn on my heart, for weeks together, a

ribbon which she once gave me as I was dancing with her; but that

ribbon never gave me such feelings as did this little glove; there must

have been some enchantment about it.

I threw myself upon the bank of moss, and indulged my fancy in the wild

dreams of a youth of nineteen; at times laying the glove on the seat

beside me, and then taking it up again to scrutinize it with ever

closer attention, as though it were the key to the mystery of my life.

I had been sitting thus perhaps a quarter of an hour, when I suddenly

started up and listened. As if from the sky there came a sound of music

and singing, faint at first, then louder, and finally I distinguished a

soft female voice, and the tinkling notes of a guitar. The voice was

singing what seemed the refrain of a song:

"All day long the bright sun loves me;

All day long."

"All day long," it was repeated, now quite close at hand, and I now

perceived the singer, who had been concealed from me hitherto by the

great trunks of the beeches.

She was coming down a path which descended rather steeply among the

trees, and as she came to a spot upon which the bright sunshine

streamed through a canopy of leaves, she paused and looked thoughtfully

upwards, presenting a picture which is ineffaceably imprinted upon my

memory, and even now after so many years it comes back to me vividly as

ever.

A charming, deep brunette, whose exquisitely proportioned form made her

stature appear less than it really was; and whose somewhat fantastic

dress of a dark green material, trimmed with gold braid, admirably

accorded with her striking, almost gypsy-like appearance. She carried a

small guitar suspended around her neck with a red ribbon, and her

fingers played over its chords like the rays of sunlight over the

lightly waving sprays.

Poor Constance! Child of the sun! Why, if it loved thee so well, did it

not slay thee now with one of these rays, that I might have made thee a

grave in this lonely forest-glade, far from the world for which thy

heart so passionately yearned--thy poor foolish heart!

I was standing motionless, fascinated by the vision, when with a deep

sigh she seemed to awake from a reverie, and as she descended the path

her eyes and mine met. I noticed that she started lightly, as one who

meets a human being where he only expected to see the stem of a tree:

but the surprise was but momentary, and I observed that she regarded me

from under her drooped lids, and a transient smile played round her

lips; in truth, a beautiful maiden, conscious of her beauty could

scarcely have seen without a smile the amazed admiration, bordering on

stupefaction, depicted in my face.

Whether she or I was the first to speak I do not now remember; and

indeed I clearly retain, of this our first conversation, only the

memory of the tones of her soft and somewhat deep voice, which to my

ear was like exquisite music. We must have ascended together from the

forest-dell to the upland, and the sea-breeze must have awakened me to

a clearer consciousness, for I can still see the calm, blue water

stretching in boundless expanse around us, the white streaks of foam

lying among the rocks of the beach perhaps a hundred feet below, and a

pair of large gulls wheeling hither and thither, and then dipping to

the water, where they gleamed like stars. I see the heather of the

upland waving in the light breeze, hear the lapping of the surf among

the sharp crags of the shore, and amid it all I hear the voice of

Constance.

"My mother was a Spaniard, as beautiful as the day, and my father, who

had gone thither to visit a friend he had known in Paris, saw her, and

carried her off. The friend was my mother's brother, and he loved my

father dearly, but was never willing that they should marry, because he

was a strict Catholic, and my father would never consent to become a

Catholic, but laughed and mocked at all religions. So they secretly

eloped; but my uncle pursued and overtook them in the night, upon a

lonely heath, and there were wild words between them, and then swords

were drawn, and my father killed the brother of his bride. She did not

know this until long afterwards; for she fainted during the fight, and

my father contrived to make her believe that he had parted from his

brother-in-law in friendship. Then they came to this place; but my

mother always pined for her home, and used to say that she felt a

weight upon her heart, as if a murder were resting on her soul. At last

she learned, through an accident, the manner of death of her brother,

whom she had devotedly loved; and so she grew melancholy, and wandered

about day and night, asking every one whom she met which was the road

to Spain. My father at last had to shut her up; but this she could not

endure, and became quite raving, and tried to take her own life, until

they let her go free again, when she wandered about as before. And one

morning she threw herself into this pool, and when they drew her out

she was dead. I was then only three years old, and I have no

recollection of her looks, but they say she was handsomer than I am."

I said that could hardly be possible; and I said it with so much

seriousness, for I was thinking of the poor woman who had drowned

herself here, that Constance again smiled, and said I was certainly the

best creature in the world, and that one could say anything to me that

came into one's head; and that was what she liked. So I was always to

stay with her, she said, and be her faithful George, and slay all the

dragons in the world for her sake. Was I agreed to that? Indeed was I,

I answered. And again a smile played over her rosy lips.

"You look as if you would. But how did you really come here, and what

does my father want with you? He gave me a special charge on your

account this morning before he set out; you must stand high in his

favor, for he does not usually give himself much care for the welfare

of other people. And how come you to have a sailor's hat on, and a very

ugly one at that? I think you said you came from school; are there

scholars there as large as you? I never knew that. How old are you

really?"

And so the maiden prattled on--and yet it was not prattling, for she

remained quite serious all the time, and it seemed to me that while she

talked her mind was far away; and her dark eyes but seldom were turned

to me, and then with but a momentary glance, as though I were no living

man, but an inanimate figure; and frequently she put a second question

without waiting for an answer to the first.

This suited me well, for thus at least I found courage to look at her

again and again, and at last scarcely turned my eyes from her. "You

will fall over there, if you do not take care," she suddenly said,

lightly touching my arm with her finger, as we stood on the verge of a

cliff. "It seems you are not easily made giddy."

"No, indeed," I answered.

"Let us go up there," she said.

Upon what was nearly the highest part of the promontory on which we

were, were the ruins of a castle, overgrown with thick bushes. But a

single massive tower, almost entirely covered with ivy, had defied the

power of the sea and of time. These were the ruins of the Zehrenburg,

to which Arthur had pointed yesterday, as we passed on the steamer; the

same tower on which I was to fix my gaze as I renounced in his favor

all pretensions to Emilie Heckepfennig. This I had passionately refused

to do--yesterday: what was Emilie Heckepfennig to me to-day?

The beautiful girl had taken her seat upon a mossy stone, and looked

fixedly into the distance. I stood beside her, leaning against the old

tower, and looked fixedly into her face.

"All that, once was ours," she said, slowly sweeping her hand round the

horizon; "and this, is all that remains."

She rose hastily, and began to descend a narrow path which led, through

broom and heather, from the heights down to the forest. I followed. We

came to the beech-wood again, and back to the tarn, where her book and

guitar still lay upon the bank. I was very proud when she gave me both

to carry, saying at the same time that the guitar had been her

mother's, and that she had never trusted it to any one before; but now

I should always carry this, her greatest treasure, for her, and she

would teach me to play and to sing, if I stayed with them. Or perhaps I

did not mean to stay with them?

I said that I could not tell, but I hoped so; and the thought of going

away fell heavy upon my heart.

We had now reached the castle. "Give me the guitar," she said, "but

keep the book: I know it by heart. Have you had breakfast? No? Poor,

poor George! it is lucky that no dragon met us; you would have been

hardly able to stand upon your feet."

A side-door, that I had not previously noticed, led to that part of the

ground-floor inhabited by the father and daughter. Constance called an

old female servant, and directed her to prepare me some breakfast, and

then she left me, after giving me her hand, with that melancholy

transient smile which I had already noted on her beautiful lips.

CHAPTER VII.

The breakfast which the ugly, taciturn old woman--whom Constance called

"Pahlen"--set before me after about half an hour, might well have been

ready in less time, for it consisted only of black bread, butter,

cheese, and a flask of cognac. The cognac was excellent; but the

remainder of the repast far from luxurious, for the bread was sour and

mouldy in spots, the butter rancid, and the cheese hard as a stone; but

what was that to a youth of nineteen, who had eaten nothing for twelve

hours, and whose silly heart, moreover, was palpitating with its first

passion! So it seemed to me that I had never had a more sumptuous

repast; and I thanked the old woman for her trouble with the utmost

politeness. "Pahlen" did not seem to know what to make of me. She

looked askance at me two or three times, with a sort of surly

curiosity; and to the questions that I put to her, replied with an

unintelligible grumbling, out of which I could make nothing.

The room in which I now found myself--it was the same into which Herr

von Zehren had conducted me on our first arrival--might, in comparison

with the deserted apartments of the upper story, be called habitable,

though the carpet under the table was ragged, several of the carved

oaken chairs were no longer firm upon their legs, and a great antique

buffet in one corner had decidedly seen better days. The windows opened

upon a court, into which, my breakfast once over, I cast a look. This

court was very spacious, the barns and stables that enclosed it of the

very largest dimensions, such as are only found on the most

considerable estates. So much the more striking was the silence that

prevailed in it. In the centre of the space was a dove-cot built of

stone, but no wings fluttered about it, unless perhaps those of a

passing swallow. There was a duck-pond without ducks, a dunghill upon

which no fowls were scratching--one peacock sat upon the broken

paling--everything seemed dead or departed. Here was no hurrying to and

fro of busy men, no lowing of cattle or neighing of horses--all was

vacant and silent; only from time to time the peacock on the paling

uttered his dissonant cry, and the sparrows twittered in the twigs of

an old linden.

As Constance did not return, and as Pahlen, to my question about the

dinner hour, responded by asking me if I now wanted dinner too, I came

to the conclusion that for some hours at least I would be left to my

own devices. I therefore walked into the court, and then perceived that

this part of the castle was an addition, which formed a continuation to

the main building, and had probably served as the manager's house. In

the castle the shutters on the ground floor were closed, and secured

with massive iron bars, a fact which did not by any means tend to give

the old pile a more cheerful appearance. That a manager's house had

long been a superfluous appendage, the surroundings plainly showed. In

truth, there was nothing here to manage; the buildings, which at a

distance still presented a tolerable appearance, proved, when near, to

be little better than crumbling ruins. The thatched roofs had sunk in

decay and were overgrown with moss, the ornamental work had dropped

away, the plaster peeled off in patches, the doors hung awry on their

rusted hinges, and in many places were entirely wanting. A stable into

which I looked had been originally built to accommodate forty horses;

now there stood in a corner four lean old brutes that set up a hungry

neighing as they saw me. As I came out again into the court, a wagon,

partly laden with corn and dragged by four other miserable jades, went

reeling over the broken stones of the pavement, and disappeared in the

yawning doorway of one of the immense barns, like a coffin in a vault.

I strolled further on, passing one or two dilapidated hovels, where

half-naked children were playing in the sand, and a couple of fellows,

more like bandits than farm-hands, were lounging, who stared at me with

looks half shy half insolent, and reached the fields. The sun shone

brightly enough, but it lighted up little that was pleasant to the eye:

waste land, with here and there scattering patches of sparse oats,

overgrown with blue cornflowers and scarlet poppies, a little rusted

wheat, an acre or so where the rye--late enough for the season--still

stood in slovenly sheaves, and where a second wagon was being laden by

two fellows of the same bandit appearance as the men at the hovels, and

who stared at me with the same surprised and skulking looks, without

answering my salutation. At some distance appeared through the trees

and bushes the roofs of farm-buildings, evidently upon another estate,

to which belonged, doubtless, the far better cultivated fields which I

had now reached. Further to the right, above a larger collection of

houses, arose the plain white steeple of a church. But I did not care

to push my exploration further: an impulse drew me back to the park,

which I reached by a circuitous route on the other side, for I wished

to avoid the castle and the grumbling old Pahlen.

I had hoped here to meet Constance again; but in vain did I listen more

than an hour under the trees and among the bushes, watching the castle

until I knew by heart nearly every broken tile upon the roof, and each

separate patch--and they were not few--where the rains of so many years

had detached the plaster and laid bare the stones beneath. No one was

to be seen; no sound was audible; while the afternoon sun gleamed upon

the window-panes, save when the shadow of a passing cloud swept over

them.

My spirits began to yield to the depressing influences of this scene of

sunlit desolation. I felt as if the silence, like an invisible magic

net, was folding around me closer and closer, until I scarcely ventured

to move--scarcely to speak. In place of the careless audacity, which

was my natural temperament, a deep sadness took possession of me. How

came I here? What was I to do here--what did I want here, where no one

troubled himself about me? Was not all that had happened to me since

yesterday only a dream, and had I not merely dreamed the beauteous

maiden with the dark eyes and strange smile?

A sense as of home-sickness came over me. I saw in fancy the town with

the narrow, crooked streets running between the old-fashioned gabled

houses; I saw my little room, to which I would have returned from

school by this time to fling my wearisome books upon the table and then

fly to my friend Arthur, who I knew had arranged a boat excursion in

the harbor. I saw my father sitting at the window of his bureau in the

excise-office, and crept close to the wall to avoid being seen by him.

How had my father borne my departure? Was he anxious about me?

Assuredly he was; for he still loved me, notwithstanding our mutual

alienation. What would he do when he learned--as sooner or later he

must learn--that I was with the wild Zehren? Would he allow me to stay?

Would he command me to return? Perhaps come for me himself?

As this thought came into my mind, I looked uneasily around. It would

be intolerable to have to go back to the stifling class-room, to be

scolded again, like a boy by Professor Lederer, and never more to see

Fräulein von Zehren Constance! Never would I endure it! My father had

driven me from his house; he might take the consequences. Rather than

go back, I would turn bandit--smuggler----

I do not know how the last word came upon my lips, but I remember--and

I have since often thought of it--that when I had uttered the word half

aloud, merely as a heroical phrase, without attaching any distinct

meaning to it, I suddenly started as if some one had spoken it in my

immediate vicinity; and at the same moment the adventures of the

previous night and what I had since observed, arranged themselves in a

definite connection, just as one looking through a telescope sees

heaven and earth blended together in dim confusion, until the right

focus is attained, when a distinct picture stands before him. How could

I have been so blind--so destitute of ordinary apprehension? Herr von

Zehren over at Pinnow's, the strange connection that manifestly existed

between the nobleman and the smith, Christel's warnings, Pinnow's

behavior towards me, and the night sail in the terrible storm! And then

this uncared-for house, this ruinous farm-yard, these desolated fields,

this neglected park! The solitary situation of the place, upon a

promontory extending far into the sea! I had learned already from

frequent conversations between my father and his colleagues in the

excise-office, how actively smuggling was carried on in these waters,

what a flourishing business it was, and how much might be made at it by

any one who was willing to peril his life upon occasion. All was clear

as day; this, and no other, was the solution of the mystery.

"You must be mad," I said to myself again, "completely mad. A nobleman

like Herr von Zehren! Such doings are for the rabble. Old Pinnow--yes,

yes, that is likely enough; but a Herr von Zehren--shame upon you!"

I endeavored with all my might to shake off a suspicion which was

really intolerable; and thus afforded another proof that we all,

however free we think ourselves, or perhaps have really become, still

ever in our feelings, if not in our thoughts, are bound by other

imperceptible but none the less firm ties to the impressions of our

childhood and early youth. Had my father been a king and I the

crown-prince, I should probably have seen the Evil One embodied in the

person of a revolutionist; or in a runaway slave, had I been the

descendant of a planter; so, as I had for a father a pedantically rigid

excise-officer, to my conceptions the most hideous of all stigmas was

affixed to the smuggler's career. Yet at the same time--and this will

seem surprising to no one who remembers the strange duplicate character

of the devil in the Christian mythology--this murky gate of Tophet, by

which my childish fancy had so often stolen at a timid distance, was

invested with a diabolical fascination. How could it be otherwise, when

I heard tell of the privations which the wretches often endured with

such fortitude, of the ingenuity with which they knew how to baffle the

utmost vigilance of the officers, of the fearlessness with which they

not seldom confronted the most imminent peril? These were perilous

stories to reach the ear of an adventurous boy; but far too many such

were talked over in our town; and what was the worst of all, I had

heard the most terrible and most fascinating from the lips of my own

father--naturally with an appendix of indignant reprobation always

tacked on in form of a moral; but this antidote was, of a surety, never

sufficient entirely to neutralize the poison. Had not Arthur and I,

shortly before an examination in which we had the most confident

assurance that we should cut but a poor figure, for a whole day taken

earnest counsel together over the question whether we, in case we

failed--or better yet, before standing the trial--should not turn

smugglers ourselves, until we actually were scared at our own plans?

That had been four years ago; but, although in the meantime the

vehement antipathies and sympathies of youth had been moderated by

maturer reason, still the thought of having fallen into the hands of a

smuggler had even now the effect of making my heart beat violently.

"You must be mad--stark mad! Such a man--it is not possible!" I

continually repeated to myself, as I hurried along the path I had

followed that morning--for indeed I then knew no other--through the

park into the forest, until I again reached the tarn with the bank of

moss.

I gazed into the calm black water; I thought of the unhappy lady who

had drowned herself there because she could not find the way back to

Spain, and how strange it was that her daughter should select precisely

this spot for her favorite resting-place. Behind the bank lay her other

glove, for which we had looked in vain in the morning. I kissed it

repeatedly, with a thrill of delight, and placed it in my bosom. Then

leaving the place hastily I ascended the cliff, and passing the ruined

tower, went out to the furthest extremity of the promontory, which was

also its highest point. Approaching the verge, I looked over. A strong

breeze had sprung up; the streaks of foam lying among the great rocks

and countless pebbles of the beach had grown broader; and here and

there upon the blue expanse flashed the white crest of a breaker. The

mainland lay towards the south-west. I could have seen the steeples of

my native town but for a cliff that intervened, rising abruptly from

the sea, and now of a steel-blue color in the afternoon light. "And

this is all that remains!" I said, repeating the words of Constance, as

my eye, in turning, fell upon the ruined tower.

I descended and threw myself down upon the soft moss that grew among

the ruins. No place could have been found more fit to inspire fantastic

reveries. The wide expanse of sky, and beyond the edge of the upland a

great stretch of sea, and the nodding broom around me! In the sky the

fleecy clouds, on the water a gleaming sail, and in the broom the

whispering wind! How luxurious to lie idly here and dream--the sweetest

dream of sweet love that loves idleness: a dream, of course, full of

combats and peril, such as naturally fills a youthful fancy. Yes! I

would be her deliverer; would bear her in my arms from this desolate

castle, a dismal dungeon for one so young and so fair--would rescue her

from this terrible father, and these ruins would I erect again into a

stately palace; and when the work was done and the topmost battlements

burned in the evening-red, would lead her in, and kneeling humbly

before her, say, "This is thine! Live happy! Me thou wilt never see

more!"

Thus I wove the web of fancy, while the sun sank towards the horizon,

and the white clouds of noon began to flush with crimson. What else

could I have done? A young fellow who has just run away from school,

who has not a _thaler_ in his pocket, and a borrowed hat on, and who

scarcely knows where he shall lay his head--what else can he do but

build castles in the air?

CHAPTER VIII.

As I entered the court through a little door in the park-wall, there

stood a light wagon from which the horses were being unharnessed, and

by the wagon a man in hunting-dress, his gun upon his shoulder--it was

Herr von Zehren.

I had planned to assume towards my host a sort of diplomatic attitude;

but I never was a good actor, and had had, besides, so little time to

get up the part, that the friendly smile and cordial grasp of the hand

with which Herr von Zehren received me, completely threw me out, and I

met his smile and returned his grasp with as much fervor as if I had

all day been waiting for the moment when I should see my friend and

protector: in a word, I was entirely in the power of the charm with

which this singular man had, from the first moment of our meeting,

captivated my young and inexperienced heart.

But in truth a maturer understanding than mine might well have been

ensnared by the charm of his manner. Even his personal appearance had

for me something fascinating; and as he stood there, laughing and

jesting with the setting sun lighting up a face which seemed really to

have grown young again from the excitement of his day's sport, and as

he took off his cap and pushed the soft fine locks, already touched

with gray, from his nobly-formed brow, and stroked his thick brown

beard, I thought I had never seen a handsomer man.

"I came to your bedside this morning," he said, in a sportive manner;

"but you slept so soundly that I had not the heart to waken you. Though

if I had known that you could handle a gun as well as you can rudder

and halyards--and yet I might have known it, for fishing and shooting

and--something else besides--go together, like sitting by the stove and

sleeping. But we will make up for it: we have, thank heaven, more than

one day's shooting before us. And now come in and let us talk while

supper is getting ready."

The room which Herr von Zehren occupied was in the front part of the

building, just in the rear of the dining-room, and his sleeping

apartment immediately adjoined it. He entered the latter, and conversed

with me through the open door, keeping all the while such a clattering

with jugs, basins, and other apparatus of ablution, that I had some

difficulty in understanding what he was saying. I made out, however,

that he had this morning written to his brother, the steuerrath,

requesting him to apprise my father where I was now staying. My father

certainly would not be sorry to hear that I had found shelter in the

house of a friend, at least until some arrangement could be effected.

In similar circumstances, he said, a temporary separation often

prevented a perpetual one. And even should this not be the case here,

at all events--here his head dipped into the water, and I lost the

remainder of the sentence. Under any circumstances--he was saying when

he became again intelligible--it would be as well if I mentioned to no

one where it was that we had happened to meet. We might have met upon

the road, as I was about to be ferried over to the island. What was to

prevent a young man, whose father had just driven him from his house,

from going, if he pleased, as far as the blue sky spread overhead? and

why should he not meet a gentleman who has a vacant place in his

carriage, and asks the young man if he will not get in? This was all

very simple and natural. And in fact this was the way he had stated the

circumstances in his letter to his brother this morning. He had given

old Pinnow his cue yesterday evening. And besides, the question of

where and how was really nobody's affair. He added some further remarks

with his head inside his wardrobe, but I only caught the word

"inconveniences."

I felt relieved from a load of anxiety. My frightful dream of the

morning, of which I had not thought during the whole day, had recurred

to my memory in the dusk of the evening twilight. For a moment an

apprehension seized me that my father might think I had made away with

myself; but it was but for a moment, for youth finds it so unlikely

that others will take things more seriously than it does itself. One

point, however, was clear: that I must give some account of myself to

my father. But at this thought the old misery came back; I could, in

any event, no longer stay here. And now I suddenly saw a way of escape

from this labyrinth. The steuerrath, being his immediate chief, was, as

I well knew, looked upon by my loyal and zealous father as a kind of

superior being; indeed he knew upon earth but four other beings

higher than himself; the Provincial Excise-Director, the General

Excise-Director, His Excellency the Minister of Commerce, next to whom

came His Majesty the King--which latter, however, was a being of

distinct and peculiar kind, and separated, even from an excellency, by

a vast chasm. If, therefore, Herr von Zehren wished to keep me with

him, and the steuerrath would use his influence with my father--but

would he? The steuerrath had never liked me much; and besides, the

evening before, I had deeply offended him. I expressed my doubts on

this point to Herr von Zehren. "I will make that all right," he said,

as, rubbing his freshly washed hands, he came out of his chamber.

"And now then," he went on, stretching himself luxuriously in an

easy-chair, "how have you spent the day? Have you seen my daughter?

Yes? Then you may boast of your luck--many a time I do not see her for

days together. And have you had something to eat? Poor fare enough, I

warrant; the provision is but indifferent when I am at home, but

execrable when I am away. Moonshine and beefsteak are two things that

do not suit together. When I want good fare, I must go from home.

Yesterday evening, for example, at old Pinnow's--wasn't it capital?

Romantic too, eh? Friar Tuck and the Black Knight, and you besides as

the Disinherited Knight. I love such little adventures above

everything."

And he stretched himself at ease in his great chair, and laughed so

joyously that I mentally asked his pardon for my suspicions, and

pronounced myself a complete fool to have had such an idea enter my

brain.

He went on chatting: asked me many questions about my father, my

family, the past events of my life, all in a tone of such friendly

interest that no one could have taken it amiss. He seemed to be much

pleased with my answers; nor did I take offence again when, as he had

done the evening before, he broke into loud laughter at some of my

remarks. But when this happened, he was always careful to soothe my

sensitiveness with a kind word or two. I felt assured that he meant

well towards me; and to this day I have remained in the conviction that

from the first moment he had conceived a hearty liking for me, and that

if it was a mere caprice that drew him towards a young man who needed

assistance, it was one of those caprices of which none but naturally

generous hearts are capable.

"But what keeps our supper so long?" he cried, springing up impatiently

and looking into the dining-room. "Ah! there you are, Constance!"

He went in; through the half-open door I heard him speaking in a low

tone with his daughter; my heart beat, I could not tell why.

"Well, why do you not come?" he called to me from the dining-room. I

went in; by the table, that to my unaccustomed eye seemed richly

spread, stood Constance. The light of the hanging lamp fell upon her

from above. Whether it was the different light, or the different

arrangement of her hair, which was now combed upwards, so as to rest

upon her head like a dark crown, with a golden ribbon interwoven in it,

or her different attire--now a plain blue close-fitting dress, cut low

at the neck, which was covered by a wide lace collar, worn somewhat

like a handkerchief--whether it was all these together, and in addition

the changed expression of her face, which had now something

indescribably childlike about it, I cannot say; but I scarcely

recognized her again; I could have believed that the Constance I had

seen in the morning was the older, more impassioned sister of this fair

maidenly creature.

"Last half of the previous century," said Herr von Zehren--"Lotte, eh?

You only want a sash, and perhaps a Werther--otherwise superb!"

A shadow passed over the face of Constance, and her brows contracted. I

had not entirely understood the allusion, but it pained me. Constance

seemed so fair to me; how could any one who saw her say aught else but

that she was fair?

Gladly would I have said it, but I had scarcely the courage to look at

her, let alone speak to her; and she, for her part, was silent and

abstracted; the dishes she hardly touched; and indeed now I cannot

remember ever to have seen her eat. In truth, the meal, composed of

fish and pheasants which Herr von Zehren had brought in from his day's

shooting, was of a kind only suited to his own appetite, which was as

keen as a sportsman's usually is. During supper he drank freely of the

excellent red wine, and often challenged me to pledge him; and indeed

he directed his vivacious and genial conversation almost exclusively to

me. I was fairly dazzled by it; and as there was much that I only half

understood, and much that I did not understand at all, it sometimes

happened that I laughed in the wrong place, which only increased his

mirth. One thing, however, I saw clearly; the constrained, not to say

hostile, relations between father and daughter. Things of this kind are

easily perceived, especially when the observer is as well prepared as

was I to catch the meaning lurking under the apparent indifference of a

hasty question, and to mark the unnecessarily prolonged pause which

preceded the answer, and the irritated tone in which it followed. For

it had not been so long since my father and I had sat together in the

same way; when I used to thank heaven in my heart if any lucky chance

relieved us sooner than usual of each other's presence. Here I should

have been a disinterested spectator had I not been so inordinately in

love with the daughter, and had not the father, by his brilliancy and

amiability, obtained such a mastery over me. So my heart, shared

between them both, was torn asunder by their division; and if a few

hours before I had formed the heroic resolution to protect the lovely

and unhappy daughter from her terrible father, I was now fixed like a

rock in my conviction that to me had fallen the sublime mission to join

these two glorious beings again in an indissoluble bond of love. That

it would have better become me to go back to the door of a certain

small house in Uselin, where dwelt an old man whom I had so deeply

wounded--of that I never for a moment thought.

I breathed quick with expectation as a carriage came rattling over the

broken pavement of the court and stopped at the door. It was a visitor

whom Herr von Zehren had said he was expecting; a fellow-sportsman and

the owner of an adjoining estate, who brought with him a friend who was

staying at his house, and who had been out with them shooting.

Constance had at once arisen from the table, and was about to leave the

room, in spite of her father's request, uttered in a tone that almost

made it a command, "I beg that you will remain!" when the gentlemen

entered. One was a tall, broad-shouldered, fair young man, with

handsome, regular features, and a pair of large, prominent blue eyes

that stared out into the world with a sort of good-natured

astonishment. My host introduced him to me as Herr Hans von Trantow.

The other, a short, round figure, whose head, with its sloping brow,

and almost deficient occiput, was so small as to leave scarce a hand's

breadth of room for his close-cropped, stiff brown hair, and whose

short turned-up nose, and immense mouth, always open, and furnished

with large white teeth, gave their possessor a more than passing

resemblance to a bull-dog--was called Herr Joachim von Granow. He had

been an officer in the army, and on his succession, a few months

before, to a handsome fortune, had purchased an estate in the

neighborhood.

Constance had found herself compelled to remain, for the little Herr

von Granow had at once turned upon her with an apparently inexhaustible

flood of talk, and the bulky Herr von Trantow remained standing

immovable so near the open door that it was not easy to pass him. From

the first moment of seeing them I felt a strong antipathy to them both:

to the little one because he ventured to approach so near to Constance,

and to talk so much; and to the large one, who did not speak, indeed,

but stared steadily at her with his glassy eyes, which seemed to me a

still more offensive proceeding.

"We have had but a poor day's sport," said the little one in a

squeaking voice to Constance; "but day before yesterday, at Count

Griebenow's, we had an uncommonly splendid time. Whenever a covey rose

I was right among them; three times I brought down a brace--right and

left barrels; and that I call shooting. They were as jealous of me--I

expected to be torn to pieces. Even the prince lost his temper. 'You

have the devil's own luck, Granow,' he kept saying. 'Young men must

have some luck,' I answered. 'But I am younger than you,' said he.

'Your highness does not need any luck,' said I. 'Why not?' 'To be a

Prince of Prora-Wiek is luck enough of itself' Wasn't that a capital

hit?" and he shook with laughter at his own wit, and shrugged his round

shoulders until they nearly swallowed his little head.

"The prince was there, then?" Constance said.

It was the first word she had uttered in reply to the small man's

chatter. Perhaps this was the reason that I, who had been standing by,

taking no interest in what was said--Herr von Zehren had left the room,

and Herr von Trantow still held his post at the door--suddenly gave all

my attention to the conversation.

"Yes indeed; did you not know it?" said the little man. "To be sure,

your father does not come to the shooting at Griebenow's; but I

supposed Trantow would have told you."

"Herr von Trantow and I are not accustomed to keep each other _au

courant_ of our adventures," answered Constance.

"Indeed!" said Herr von Granow, "is it possible? Yes; as I was going on

to say, the prince was there: he is going to be betrothed to the young

Countess Griebenow, they say. At all events, he has fixed his quarters

at Rossow; the only one of his estates in this part of the country, you

know, that has anything like a suitable residence, and then besides it

lies very handy to Griebenow. A capital opportunity--if a prince ever

needs an opportunity. But that is only for us poor devils--ha! ha!

ha!"--and the little fellow's head again nearly disappeared into his

shoulders.

I was standing near enough to hear every word and observe every look,

and I had clearly perceived that as Herr von Granow mentioned the young

prince, Constance, who had been standing half-turned away from the

speaker, with an inattentive, rather annoyed expression, suddenly

turned and fixed her eyes upon him, while a deep blush suffused her

cheeks. I had afterwards sufficient reason to remember this fact, but

at the moment had not time to ponder over it, as Herr von Zehren now

returned with the cigars for which he had gone; and Constance, after

offering Herr von Granow the tips of her fingers, giving me her hand

with great apparent cordiality, and saluting Herr von Trantow, who

stood, as ever, silent and motionless at the door, with a distant,

scarcely perceptible bow, at once left the room.

As the door closed behind her, Herr von Trantow passed his hand over

his brow, and then turned his large eyes on me, as he slowly approached

me. I returned, as defiantly as I was able, his look, in which I

fancied I read a dark menace, and stood prepared for whatever might

happen, when he suddenly stopped before me, his staring eyes still

fixed upon my face.

"This is my young friend of whom I was speaking to you, Hans," said

Herr von Zehren, coming up to us. "Do you think you can manage him?"

Von Trantow shrugged his shoulders.

"You see I have laid a wager with Hans that you are the stronger of the

two," our host continued. "He is counted the strongest man in all this

part of the country; so I held it my duty to bring so formidable a

rival to his notice."

"But not this evening," said Hans, offering me his hand. It was just as

when a great mastiff, of whom we are not sure whether he will bite or

not, suddenly sits on his haunches before us, and lays his great paw on

our knees. I took it without an instant's hesitation.

"Heaven forbid!" said Herr von Zehren to Trantow's remark. "My young

friend will make a long stay with me, I trust. He wishes to learn the

management of a country place; and where could he sooner attain his

object than upon such a model estate as mine?"

He laughed as he said it. Von Granow exclaimed, "Very good!" the silent

Hans, said nothing, and I stood confused. Von Zehren, in our previous

conversation, had made no allusion to my staying with him as a pupil.

Why had he not done so? It was one of the happiest of ideas, I thought,

and one that at once cleared away all the difficulties of my position.

As for his "model estate," why might I not succeed in changing this

ironical phrase to a real description? Yes; here I had a new mission,

which went hand in hand with the other: to reconcile father and

daughter, to reclaim the ruined estate, to rebuild the castle of their

ancestors--in a word, to be the good genius, the guardian angel of the

family.

All this passed through my mind as the gentlemen took their seats at

the card-table; and with my brain still busy with the thought, I left

the room, under the pretext of wanting a little fresh air, and strolled

about the now familiar paths among the dark shrubbery of the park. The

moon was not yet up, but a glimmer on the eastern horizon showed that

she was rising. The stars twinkled through the warm air that was

ascending from the earth. There was a rustling and whispering in bush

and copse, and a screech-owl at intervals broke the silence with her

cry. From one of the windows on the ground-floor of the castle came a

faint light, and the breeze brought to my ear the notes of a guitar. I

could not withstand the temptation, and crept with hushed breath,

startled at the least noise that my footsteps made, nearer and nearer,

until I reached the stone balustrade which surrounded the wide, low

terrace. I now perceived that the light came from an open casement,

through which I could see into a dimly-lighted room. Thick curtains

were dropped before the two windows to the right and left. From the

place where I stood I could not see the occupant, and I was hesitating,

with a beating heart, whether I should venture to advance, when she

suddenly appeared at the open casement. Not to be discovered, I

crouched close behind a great stone vase.

Her fingers glided over the strings of her guitar, trying first one

note and then another, then striking an uncertain chord or two, as if

she were trying to catch a melody. Presently the chords were struck

more firmly, and she sang:

"All day long the bright sun loves me,

Woos me with his glowing light;

But I better love the gentle

Stars of night.

From the boundless deep above me

Come their calm and tender beams,

Bringing to my wayward fancy

Sweetest dreams.

Sweetest dreams of love unending,

Bitter tears for love undone;

For the dearest, for the fairest,

Only one.

Falsest-hearted, only chosen--

Soon the short-lived dream was o'er--

He is gone, and I am lonely

Evermore."

The last words were sung in a broken voice, and she now leaned her head

against the casement-frame, and I heard her sobbing. My agitation was

so great that I forgot the precaution which my situation demanded, and

a stone which I had dislodged from the crumbling edge of the terrace

rolled down the slope. Constance started, and called with an unsteady

voice, "Who is there?" I judged it more prudent to discover myself, and

approached her, saying that it was I.

"Ah, it is you, then," she said.

"I entreat you to forgive me. The music of your guitar attracted me. I

know I ought not to have come: pray forgive me."

I stood near her; the light from the room fell brightly upon her face

and her eyes, which were lifted to mine.

"How kind you are," she said in a soft voice; "or are you not dealing

truly with me?"

I could not trust myself to answer, but she knew how to interpret my

silence aright.

"Yes," she said, "you are my trusty squire, my faithful George. If I

were to say to you: watch this terrace tonight until the break of day,

you would do it, would you not?"

"Yes," I answered.

She looked in my face and smiled. "How sweet it is--how sweet to know

that there is one creature upon earth that is true to us!"

She gave me her hand; my own trembled as I took it.

"But I do not ask anything of the kind," she said; "only this one

thing, that you will not go away except by your own determination, and

not without my permission. You promise? That is so kind of you! And now

go; good-night!"

She lightly pressed my hand before letting it go, and then re-entered

her room. As I turned away I heard the casement close.

I stood under one of the great trees of the park and looked back

towards the house. The moon had risen above the trees, and the great

mass of buildings stood out in bolder relief against the dark

background; a faint light occasionally appeared and vanished in one of

the windows of the upper story. The light from Constance's window came

towards me with that magic lustre which shines upon us once in our

lives, and only once.

The lawn before me lay in deep shadow; but just as the first rays of

the moon began to illuminate it, I thought I perceived a figure, which,

coming from the other side, was slowly approaching Constance's window.

In this there was nothing to excite suspicion, for it might be one of

the laborers; but it is the duty of a faithful squire to make sure in

any case; so without a moment's hesitation I started across the lawn to

meet the figure. Unluckily I stepped upon a dry twig and it snapped.

The figure stopped instantly, and began to retreat with swift, stealthy

steps. He had but little start of me, but the thick coppice which

closed in the lawn on that side, and was the limit of the park, was so

near that he reached it a few moments before me. I distinctly heard

some one pushing through the branches, but with my utmost exertions I

could not reach him. I began to think that my ear had led me in a wrong

direction, when suddenly a loud crashing and clattering close at hand

proved that I was on the right track. The man was evidently clambering

over the rotten paling which fenced in the park on this side. Now I

knew he could not escape me. On the other side lay a wide open space,

and I had never yet met the man whom I could not overtake in a fair

race. But at the instant that I reached the paling, I heard a horse's

feet, and looking up saw a rider galloping across the open in the clear

moonlight. The horse was evidently one of great power and speed. At

each stride he cleared such a stretch of ground, that in less than half

a minute horse and rider were lost to sight; for a brief space I still

heard the sound of the hoofs, and then that also ceased. The whole

adventure passed in so little time, that I might have fancied I had

dreamed it all, but for the evidence of my heart beating violently with

excitement and the exertion of the chase, and the smarting of my hands,

which were torn by the thorns and briers.

Who could the audacious intruder be? Certainly not an ordinary thief;

doubtless some one who had been attracted by the light from Constance's

window, and not to-night for the first time; it was plain that he had

often followed that path in the dark.

That it was a favored lover, I did not for a moment suppose. Such a

surmise would have seemed to me an outrage, and upon one, too, whose

dreamy eyes, whose melancholy song, and whose tears rather told of an

unhappy than of a requited attachment. But they surely told of love.

Not that I was presumptuous enough to indulge in any hope, or even

wish; how could I dare to lift my eyes to her? I could only live and

die for her, and perhaps another time break the neck of the rash mortal

who had dared under cover of the night to approach her sanctuary.

This idea somewhat solaced my dejection, but my former happiness had

departed never to return. It was with a heavy sense of anxiety and

apprehension that I re-entered the room where the gentlemen were still

at the card-table.

They had commenced with whist, but were now engaged at faro. Von Zehren

held the bank, and seemed to have been winning largely. In a plate

before him lay a great heap of silver, with some gold, and this plate

lay on another which was filled with crumpled treasury notes. The two

guests had already lost their ready money, and from time to time they

handed over bills, which went to swell the pile of notes, and received

in exchange larger or smaller sums, which evinced a strong proclivity

to return to the source from which they sprang. Herr von Trantow

appeared to bear his ill-luck with great equanimity. His good-natured

handsome face was as passionless as before, only perhaps a shade or two

deeper in color, and his great blue eyes rather more staring. But this

might very well be the effect of the wine he had been drinking, of

which they had already emptied at least half-a-dozen bottles. Herr von

Granow's nerves were less fitted to bear the slings and arrows of

outrageous fortune. He would at times start up from his chair, then

fall back into it; swore sometimes aloud, sometimes softly to himself,

and was plainly in the very worst of humors, to the secret delight, as

I thought, of Herr von Zehren, whose brown eyes twinkled with amusement

as he politely expressed his regret whenever he was compelled to gather

in the little man's money.

I had taken my seat near the players, in order better to watch the

chances of the game, of which I had sufficient knowledge from furtive

school-boy experiences, when Herr von Zehren pushed over to me a pile

of bank-notes which he had just won, saying, "You must join us."

"Excuse me," I stammered.

"Why so punctilious about a trifle?" he asked. "There is no need for

you to go to your room for money; here is enough."

He knew that my whole stock of cash did not amount to quite a _thaler_,

for I had told him so the previous evening. I blushed crimson, but had

not the courage to contradict my kind host's generous falsehood. I drew

up my chair with the air of a man who has no wish to spoil sport, and

began to play.

Cautiously at first, with small stakes, and with the firm determination

to remain perfectly cool; but before long the fever of gaming began to

fire my brain. My heart beat ever quicker and quicker, my head and my

eyes seemed burning. While the cards were dealing I poured down glass

after glass of wine to moisten my parched throat, and it was with a

shaking hand that I gathered up my winnings. And I won almost

incessantly; if a card was turned against me, the next few turns

brought me in a three-fold or a five-fold gain. My agitation almost

suffocated me as the money before me increased to a larger sum than I

had ever before seen in a heap--two or three hundred _thalers_, as I

estimated it in my mind.

Presently my luck came to a pause. I ceased winning, but did not lose;

and then I began to lose slowly at first, then faster and faster. Cold

chills ran over me, as one after another of the large notes passed into

the banker's hands; but I took care not to imitate the behavior of Herr

von Granow, which had struck me so repulsively. Like Herr von Trantow,

I lost without the slightest change of countenance, and my calmness was

praised by my host, who continued encouraging me. My stock of money had

melted away to one-half, when Hans von Trantow declared with a yawn

that he was too tired to play any longer. Von Granow said it was not

late; but the candles burnt to the sockets, and the great clock on the

wall, which pointed to three, told a different story. The two guests

lighted fresh cigars, and drove off in their carriages, which had long

been waiting at the door, after having arranged a shooting expedition,

in which I was to join, for the following day.

My host and I returned to the room, which reeked with the fumes of wine

and the smoke of cigars, where old Christian, for whom the difference

between night and day seemed to have no existence, was busy clearing

up. Von Zehren threw open the window and looked out. I joined him; he

laid his hand upon my shoulder and said: "How gloriously the stars are

shining, and how delicious the air is! And there"--he pointed back into

the room, "how horrible--disgusting--stifling! Why cannot one play faro

by starlight, inhaling the perfume of wall-flowers and mignonette? And

why, after every merry night, must repentance come in the form of an

old man shaking his head as he counts the emptied bottles and sweeps up

the ashes? How stupid it is; but we must not give ourselves gray hairs

fretting about it--they will come soon enough of themselves. And now do

you go to bed. I see you have a hundred things on your mind, but

to-morrow is a new day, and if not--so much the better. Good-night, and

pleasant rest."

But it was long ere my host's kind wish was accomplished. A real

witch-sabbath of beautiful and hideous figures danced in the wildest

gyrations before my feverish, half-sleeping, half-waking eyes:

Constance, her father, his guests, the dark form in the park, my

father, Professor Lederer, and Smith Pinnow--and all appealing to me to

save them from some danger or other;--Professor Lederer especially from

two thick lexicons, which were really two great oysters that gaped with

open shells at the lean professor, while the commerzienrath stood in

the background, nearly dying with laughter:--and all whirling and

swarming together, and caressing and threatening, and charming and

terrifying me, until at last, as the gray dawn began to light the

ragged hangings of the chamber, a profound slumber dispersed the

phantoms.

CHAPTER IX.

If, according to the unanimous report of travellers by that route, the

road to hell is paved with good intentions, I am convinced that several

square rods of it are my work, and that the greater part of it was laid

down in the first fortnight of my stay at Zehrendorf. There could,

indeed, scarcely have been a place where everything essential to this

easy and pleasant occupation was provided in ampler abundance. Wherever

one went, or stood, or turned the eyes, there lay the materials ready

to hand; and I was too young, too inexperienced, and I will venture to

add, too good-hearted, not to fall to work with all my energy. Of what

unspeakable folly I was guilty in undertaking to set right the

disordered and disjointed world in which I was now moving, after I had

already shown that I could not adjust myself to the correct and orderly

world from which I came--this thought did not seize me till long

afterwards.

No; I was thoroughly convinced of my sublime mission; and I thanked my

propitious star that had so gloriously brought me from the harsh

slavery of the school and of my father's house, where I was pining

away; from the oppressive bonds of Philistine associations which

hampered the free flight of my heroic soul, into this freedom of the

desert which seemed to have no bounds, and behind which must lie a

Canaan which I was gallantly resolved to conquer--a land flowing with

the milk of friendship and with the honey of love.

True, the letter which soon arrived, with a great box containing my

personal chattels, from my father to Herr von Zehren, for a while gave

me pause. The letter comprised but very few lines, to the effect that

he--my father--was fully convinced of the impossibility of ever leading

me by his road to any good end, and that he was compelled to give me

over, for weal or woe, to my own devices; only hoping that my

disobedience and my obstinacy might not be visited upon me too heavily.

Herr von Zehren showed me the letter, and as he observed my grave look

upon reading it, asked me, "Do you wish to go back?" adding

immediately, "Do not do it. That is no place for you. The old gentleman

wanted to make a draught-horse out of you, but, tall and strong as you

are, that is not your vocation. You are a hunter, for whom no ditch is

too wide, and no hedge too high. Come along! I saw a covey of some two

dozen over in the croft; we will have them before dinner."

He was right, I thought. I felt that my father had given me up too

soon, that he might have allowed me one chance more, and that, as it

was, he had forfeited the right to threaten me in addition with the

retribution of heaven. And yet it pained me, when an hour or so later

Herr von Zehren, who had used up all his wads, took my father's letter

from his pocket, and tearing it up, rammed it down both barrels of his

gun, with the jesting phrase that necessity knows no law. I could not

help feeling as if some misfortune would happen. But the gun did not

burst, the birds dropped, and nothing remained of the letter but a

smouldering scrap which fell in some dry stubble, and upon which Herr

von Zehren set his foot as he thrust the birds into his game-bag.

If I had any doubt left whether I was right in setting myself upon my

own feet, as I phrased it, a letter which I received from Arthur was

only too well adapted to confirm me in my notions of my finally-won

liberty.

"A lucky dog you always were," he wrote. "You run away from school, and

they let you go, as if it was a matter of course; while me they catch

as if I were a runaway slave, cram me in the dungeon for three days,

every hour cast up to me my disgraceful conduct, and in every way make

my life a perfect misery to me. Even my father carries on as if I was

guilty of heaven knows what; only mamma is sensible, and says I mustn't

take it too much to heart, and that papa will have to come round, or

the professor will not let me go into the upper class, and there will

be more botherations. It is really a shame that I, just because my

uncle, the commerzienrath, wills it so, must go through the final

examination, while Albert von Zitzewitz, no older than I, is at the

cadets' school, and has a pair of colors already. What has my uncle to

do with me, anyhow? Papa says that he will not be able to support me

during my lieutenancy without the help he expects from my uncle; and

that is likely too, for things get tighter with us every day, and papa

went quite wild yesterday when he had to pay sixteen _thalers_ for a

glove-bill of mine. If mamma did not help me now and then, I don't know

what I should do; but she has nothing, and said to me only yesterday

that she did not know what would happen at New Year, when all the bills

came in.

"Now you might help me out of all this trouble. Papa says that Uncle

Malte never looks at money when he happens to have any, and anybody

that would hit the lucky moment might get as much from him as they

pleased. You, lucky fellow, are now with him all the time, and you

might watch your chance, for the sake of an old friend, and slip in a

good word for me. Or better, tell him that you have some old debts that

you are worried about, and wouldn't he lend you fifty or a hundred

_thalers_, and then do you send it to me, for you can't want it, you

know. You'll never come back here, whatever happens, for you cannot

imagine the way people here talk about you. Lederer prays an extra five

minutes every day for the strayed lamb--that's what he calls you, you

old sinner. Justizrath Heckepfennig said that if ever it was written in

a mortal's face that he would die in his shoes, it is in yours. In

Emilie's coterie it was resolved to tear out of all their albums the

leaves on which you had immortalized yourself; and at my uncle's, day

before yesterday, there was a regular scene about you. Uncle said at

the table that you must take powerfully long strides if you meant to

outrun the ---- and here he made a sign, you understand, at which

Hermine began to cry terribly, and Fräulein Duff said it was a shame to

talk that way before a child. So you see you have a pair of firm

friends among the females. You always did have, and have still, the

most unaccountable luck in that quarter. Don't break my pretty cousin's

heart, you lucky dog!

"P. S.--Papa once told me that Constance gets a small sum of money

every year from an old Spanish aunt of hers. She certainly has no use

for it. Maybe you could coax something from her--at all events, you

might look into the matter a little."

As soon as I had read this letter, which offered me such an opportunity

of heaping coals of fire on the head of my still-loved friend, I

resolved to help him out of his difficulties with a part of the money I

had won on that first evening; but this intention, which I cannot

maintain to have been in any sense a good one, was destined never to be

carried into execution. For the same evening Herr von Zehren gave his

guests their revenge at Hans von Trantow's, and I lost not only all the

money I had won with such palpitations, to the very last _thaler_, but

a considerable sum besides, which my obliging host, who was again the

winner, had forced upon me. This ill fortune, which I might have

foreseen if I had had a grain more sense, struck me as a heavy blow. In

spite of my frivolity, I had always been scrupulously conscientious in

my small money-matters; had always paid my insignificant debts

cheerfully and as promptly as possible; and as we were driving home at

daybreak after this unlucky evening, I felt more wretched than I had

ever done before. How could I ever be in a position to pay such a

sum--especially now that I had resolved never again to touch a card?

How could I venture in broad daylight to look into the face of the man

to whom I was already under so many obligations?

Herr von Zehren, who was in the best of humors, laughed aloud when,

after some urging on his part, I confessed to him my trouble. "My dear

George," said he--he had taken to calling me George altogether--"don't

take it amiss, but you really are too absurd. Why, man, do you really

think that I would for one instant hold you responsible for what you

did at my express request? Whoever lends money to minors, does it, as

everybody knows, at his own risk, and you certainly remember that I

forced the money upon you. And why did I do it? Simply because it gave

me pleasure, and because I liked to see your honest, glowing face

across the table, and to compare it with Granow's hang-dog look and

Trantow's stony stare. And when a young fellow that is my valued guest,

to please me, accompanies me out shooting, or to the faro-table, and he

has no money and no gun, it is right and fair and a matter of course

that I should place my gun-room and purse at his disposal. And now say

no more about the trifle, and give me a cigar if we have any left."

I gave him his cigar-case, which he had handed over to my keeping, and

murmured that his kindness crushed me to the earth, and that my only

consolation was in the trust that an opportunity might yet offer of my

repaying the obligation in some way or other. He laughed again at this,

and said I was as proud as Lucifer, but he liked me all the better for

it; and as for the possibility of my repaying the obligation, as I

called it, he was a man in whose life accidents and lucky hits and

mishaps and chances of all kinds had played so important a part, that

it would be a wonder if, among all the rest, the chance I so longed for

did not turn up. So until then we would let the matter rest.

In this airy way he tried to quiet the twinges of my conscience, but he

only succeeded in part; and I went to sleep, and awaked a couple of

hours later, with the resolution to set decisively about the execution

of another resolution, namely, in my capacity of pupil to devote myself

to the neglected estate; to acquire, with the utmost possible dispatch,

a complete insight into all matters of rural economy, and by the help

of this knowledge and of untiring diligence, and the exertion of all

my faculties, to change this ruined place in the shortest possible

time--say one or two years--into a paradise, and so relieve my kind

host from the necessity of winning at the card-table the resources

which he could not win from his fields.

I at once devoted my attention to the forlorn-looking stables, to the

cattle-sheds, only tenanted by a few wretched specimens of the bovine

genus, and to a score of melancholy sheep; so that Herr von Zehren, who

had an acute sense of the comic, could never get done laughing at me,

until an incident occurred which gave him an opportunity of speaking a

serious word with me, which to a certain extent damped the ardor of my

economical studies.

That old man whom I met in the park on the first day after my arrival

(whose real name was Christian Halterman, though he always went by the

name of Old Christian), in his capacity of under-bailiff, and in

default of a master who paid any attention to the management, and of a

head-bailiff, a post that was not filled--was the wretched chief of the

whole wretched establishment. Such orders as were given emanated from

him; though it required no extraordinary perspicuity of vision to see

that of the whole bandit-looking gang that called themselves laborers,

every man did just what pleased him. When the old man, as I had once or

twice seen, fell into an impotent rage, and more to relieve his wrath

than in the hope of any effectual result, scolded and stormed in his

singular, creaking, parrot-like voice, they laughed in his wrinkled

face and kept on their own way, or sometimes even openly insulted him.

Their ringleader in this insolence was a certain John Swart, commonly

called "Long Jock," a great, tall, broad-shouldered fellow, with long

arms like an ape's, whose physiognomy would probably have appeared to

Justizrath Heckepfennig more unprepossessing even than mine, and of

whose matchless strength the others told all sorts of wonderful

stories.

I came one morning upon this man, quarrelling again with Old Christian.

The subject of dispute was a load of corn which the old man wanted

thrown off, and which the other refused to touch. The scene was the

straw-littered space before the barn-door, and the spectators a

half-dozen fellows who openly sided with Long Jock, and applauded every

coarse jeer of his with whinnying laughter.

I had observed the whole affair from a distance, and my blood was

already boiling with indignation when I reached the spot. Thrusting a

couple of the laughers roughly aside, I confronted Long Jock and asked

him if he intended to obey Old Christian's order or not. Jock answered

me with an insolent laugh and a coarse word. In a moment we were both

rolling in the trampled straw, and in the next I was kneeling upon the

breast of my vanquished antagonist, and made the unpleasantness of his

position so apparent, that he first cried aloud for help, and then,

seeing that the rest stood scared and motionless, and that none could

deliver him out of my hand, begged for mercy like a craven.

I had just allowed him to rise, badly bruised and half strangled, when

Herr von Zehren, who from his chamber-window had been a witness of the

whole scene, came hurrying up. He told Long Jock that he had got no

more than he richly deserved, and that he would do well to take a

lesson from it for the future; reproved the others, but as I thought by

no means so severely as their conduct demanded, then took my arm and

led me a little aside, until we were out of hearing of the men, when he

said, "It is all very well, George, that these fellows should know how

strong you are; but I do not want to turn them against me by any

repetition of the proof."

I looked at him in surprise.

"Yes," he went on, "you would have to repeat the process on a thousand

other occasions, and not even your strength would suffice for such

Herculean labor."

"Let us try that," I said.

"No; let us by no means try that," he answered.

"But the whole estate is going to ruin in this way," I cried, still

under excitement. Herr von Zehren shrugged his shoulders, and said,

"Well, it has not very far to go--two or three steps at the farthest.

And now you understand, George, the word is, Things as they are! As for

the men, they are no bees in point of industry, but they have this much

of bees about them, that when they are meddled with they are very apt

to sting. So be a little more cautious in future."

He said it with a smile, but I perceived very clearly that he was

thoroughly in earnest, and that the paradise I had been planning must

be renounced. A paradise in which these brigand-looking malingerers

slouched about at their pleasure, presented too glaring a contradiction

to escape even my inexperienced eyes.

I cannot say that it cost me much to give up my plans of radical

reformation. I had chiefly thrown myself into them because I hoped thus

to free myself of my load of obligation to my host. If he did not

choose to be paid in this way, it was clearly no fault of mine; and

when he reiterated to me every day that he wanted nothing of me but

myself, that my company was inexpressibly delightful to him, and, so to

speak, a godsend, whose value he could not sufficiently prize--how

could I help believing assurances that were so flattering to me, and

how could I withstand the allurements of a life that so exactly

corresponded with my inclinations?

Fishing and bird-catching--there is associated with these words an

ominous warning, whose justice I was destined to have a long time and a

desperately serious occasion to verify; but even now I cannot condemn

the fascination that clings to those occupations at which the proverb

is aimed. Fish cannot be caught without gazing at the water, nor birds

without gazing into the sky; and then the gliding waves and the flying

clouds get a mysterious hold of us--or at all events did of me, from my

very earliest youth. How often as a boy, coming home from school, did I

go out of my way to sit for half an hour on the outermost end of the

pier, and yield to the lulling influence of the light lapping of the

waves at my feet. How often at my garret-window have I stood gazing

over my wearisome books at the blue sky, where our neighbor's white

pigeons were wheeling in ethereal circles. And I had always longed just

for once to be able to listen to my fill to the plashing waves, and

gaze my fill at the drifting clouds. Then as I grew older, and could

extend the range of my excursions, I enjoyed many a happy hour,

many a boating-trip, many a ramble into the forest, many an expedition

after water-fowl on the beach with one of Smith Pinnow's rusty

fowling-pieces; but these at best were only for a few hours at a time,

which were far from sufficient for the exuberant energies of youth, and

were bought at the price of too much incarceration at home and at

school, too much care, trouble, vexation, and anger.

Now for the first time in my life I enjoyed in full measure all that I

had longed for all my life: forest and field and sea-shore, unlimited

space, and freedom to wander through all these at my pleasure from the

earliest dawn until far in the night, and a companion besides than whom

no fitter could be desired by a youth whose ambition it was to excel in

these profitless, ruinous arts. The "Wild Zehren's" eye was perhaps not

so keen nor his hand so steady as they had been ten or twenty years

before, but he was still an excellent shot, and a master in everything

belonging to field-sports. No one knew better than he where to find the

game; no one had such well-trained dogs, or could handle them so well

as he; no one could so skilfully take advantage of all the chances of

the chase; and above all, no one was so delightful a companion. If his

ardor during the sport carried all away with him, no one could so

happily choose the resting-place in the cool edge of the forest or

under the thin shade of a little copse by the side of a brook, or so

charmingly entertain the tired party with mirth and jest and the most

capitally-told stories. But he always seemed most charming to me when

we two together were on a long tramp. If in a large company of

sportsmen he could not conceal a certain imperious manner, and the

better success of another filled him with envy which found vent in

acrid sarcasms, there was no trace of all this when he was with me. He

taught me all the arts, adroit expedients, and minor dexterities of

woodcraft, in which he was so well skilled, and was delighted to find

me so apt a scholar; indeed he often laughed heartily when I brought

down a bird which he had marked for his own gun.

And then his talk, to which I always listened with new delight! It was

the strangest mingling of excellently-told sporting stories and

anecdotes, acute observations of nature, and biting satire upon

mankind, especially the fairer half of it. In the life of the Wild

Zehren, women had played an important and disastrous part. Like so many

men of ardent passions and fierce desires, he had probably never sought

for true love, and now he charged it as a crime upon the sex, that he

had never found it; not even with that unhappy lady whom he had carried

off from her home under such terrible circumstances, and who brought

him nothing but her parents' curse, beauty which faded but too soon,

and a narrow, bigoted spirit, uncultured and perhaps incapable of

culture, which already bore in itself the germs of madness.

That he, at that time in his fortieth year, who had seen so much of the

world, and had such wide experience, should perceive and acknowledge

that the whole was his own fault, that he had to attribute to himself

all the misery and misfortune ensuing upon so wicked and insensate a

union--all this never occurred to him for a moment. He was the man more

sinned against than sinning; he was the victim of his generosity; he

had been cheated out of his life's happiness. How could a man have

domestic habits who never had any enjoyment in his home? How could he

learn the charm of a calm and peaceful life at the side of a woman

restlessly tormented night and day by madness and superstition?

"Yes, yes, my dear George, I once had fine plans of my own: I meant to

restore the old castle, laid waste in the time of the French invasion,

to its ancient splendor; I thought to regain all the possessions that

once belonged to the Zehrens; but it was not to be. It could not be, in

the years when I was still young and full of hope; and do you think now

to make a careful, economical proprietor of me, now that I am grown old

and half savage? You buoyant, hopeful young---- See! there he goes!

That comes of talking. No; don't shoot now, he is too far. To heel,

Diana, old girl! So frivolous in your old days? Be ashamed of yourself!

Yes; what I was going to say to you, George, was--beware of the women.

They are the cause of every man's misfortunes, just as they have been

of mine. Take my brothers, for instance. There is the steuerrath, whom

you know: the man was predestined to a fine career, for he is as fond

of the shining things of this world as any thievish magpie, cunning as

a fox, smooth as an eel, and being a man without passions of any sort,

unpretentious, and so could easily hold his own. If he absolutely must

marry, then, at a time when he made no pretensions, it should have been

some plain sensible girl, who would have helped him make his way.

Instead of this, when he was a mere penniless barrister, he lets

himself be caught by a Baroness Kippenreiter, the oldest of two

surviving daughters of an army-contractor, made a baron, I believe, by

the King of Sweden, who wasted in speculation the fortune that had

ennobled him, to the last farthing, and finally blew out his brains.

And now the steuerrath must take the consequences. A Baroness

Kippenreiter will not seal her letters with a coat-of-arms twenty years

old, and have the richest man in the province for a brother-in-law, for

nothing. If such a thorough plebeian could rise to such distinction and

to the dignity of commerzienrath, her husband, sprung from the oldest

family in the province, must die prime minister at the very least. The

lithe fox with no pretensions would have found his way into the

poultry-house; but when with hunger and debt he is changed into a

howling and ravenous wolf, he is hunted off with kicks, clubs, and

stones. One of these days they will put him off with a pension, to be

rid of him once for all.

"Then there is my younger brother Ernest. He is a genius; and like all

geniuses, modest, magnanimous as Don Quixote, full of philanthropic

crotchets, unpractical to the last degree, and helpless as a child. He

should have taken a wife of strong mind, who would have brought order

into his genial confusion, and had the ambition to make something out

of him. He had the stuff in him, no doubt; it only wanted fashioning.

And what does he do? When a first lieutenant, twenty years old--for

already, when he was little more than a boy, he had distinguished

himself in the war for freedom, and came back covered with orders, so

that attention was drawn to him, and he had a fine career before

him--what does he do? He falls in love with an orphan, the daughter of

a painter, I believe, or something of that sort, who had served as a

volunteer in his battalion, and on his death-bed left her in his

charge--the generous soul! He marries her; farewell promotion! They

give our lieutenant, who is bent on a _mésalliance_, an honorable

discharge, with the rank of captain; make him superintendent of the

prison; and there he sits now, for these twenty-five years, in Z., with

a half-blind wife and a swarm of children, old and gray before his

time, a wretched invalid--and all this for the sake of a stupid young

goose, whom the first tailor or cobbler would have suited just as well.

Women! women! Dear George, beware of women!"

Had Herr von Zehren, when he talked to me in this way, any special

object in view? I do not think he had. I was now so much with him, we

often set out so early, so seldom returned at noon, and usually came

home so late at night--as a consequence I saw so little of Constance,

and that almost invariably in his presence, when I felt so embarrassed

and ill at ease on account of the constant hostilities between father

and daughter, that I scarcely ventured to raise my eyes to her face--it

was not possible that he could know how I admired the beautiful maiden,

how I found her more lovely every time I saw her, and how my heart beat

when I merely heard the rustle of her dress.

Then there was another reason which contributed to his unsuspiciousness

on this point. Fond as he was of having me with him, and sincerely as

he admired my aptness for everything connected with sport, and my

remarkable bodily strength, which I liked to display before him, still

he scarcely looked upon me as a creature of his own kind. Poor as he

was, leading a problematical existence as he had done for many years,

he could never forget that he sprang from a most ancient race of

nobles, who had once held sway over the island before the princes of

Prora-Wiek had been heard of, and when Uselin, my native place,

afterwards an important Hanseatic town, was a mere collection of

fishers' huts. I am convinced that he, like a dethroned king, had in

his heart never renounced his pretensions to the power and wealth which

had once been his ancestors'; that he considered that Trantow, Granow,

and a score of other titled or untitled gentlemen who held estates in

the neighborhood that had once belonged to the Zehrens, had come to

their so-called possession of these estates by some absurd whimsy of

fortune, but had no genuine title which he recognized, and that

wherever he hunted, it was still upon his own ground. This mystical

_cultus_ of a long-vanished splendor, of which he still fancied himself

the upholder, gave his eye the haughty look, his bearing the dignity,

his speech the graciousness, which belong to sovereign princes whose

political impotence is so absolute, and whose legitimacy is so

unassailable, that they can allow themselves to be perfectly amiable.

Herr von Zehren was an enthusiastic defender of the right of

primogeniture, and found it highly unreasonable that younger brothers

should bear and transmit the nobility that they were not permitted to

represent. "I have nothing to say against a councillor of excise,

nothing against a prison superintendent," he said, "only they ought to

be called Müller or Schultze, and not Zehren." For the nobility of the

court, the public offices, or the army, he cherished the profoundest

contempt. They were only servants, in or out of livery, he maintained;

and he drew a sharp distinction between the genuine old and the

"new-baked" nobility, to the former class of which, for example, the

Trantows belonged, who could trace back an unbroken pedigree to the

middle of the fourteenth century; while Herr von Granow had had a

shepherd for great-grandfather, small tenant-farmer for grandfather,

and a land-owner, who had purchased a patent of nobility, for his

father. "And the man often behaves as if he was of the same caste with

myself! The honor of being permitted to lose his contemptible money to

me, seems to have mounted into his foolish brain. I think before long

he will ask me if I am not willing to be the father-in-law of a

shepherd-boy. Thank heaven, in that point at least I can rely upon

Constance; she had rather fling herself into the sea than marry the

little puffed-up oaf. But it is foolish in her to treat poor Hans so

cavalierly. Trantow is a fellow that can show himself anywhere. He

might be put under a glass-case for exhibition, and nobody could find a

fault in him. You laugh, you young popinjay! You mean that he was not

the man that invented gunpowder, and that if he keeps on as he is

going, he will soon have drunk away what little brains he has. Bah! The

first fact qualifies him for a good husband; and as for the second, I

know of a certainty that it is pure desperation that makes him look

into the glass so much with those staring eyes of his. Poor devil: it

makes one right heartily sorry for him; but that, you see, is the way

with every man that has anything to do with women. Beware of the women,

George; beware of the women!"

Was it possible that the man who held these views and talked with me in

this way, could have the least suspicion of my feelings? It could not

be. I was in his eyes a young fellow who had fallen in his way, and

whom he had picked up as a resource against ennui, whom he kept with

him and talked to, because he did not like to be alone and liked to

talk. Could I complain of this? Could I make any higher pretensions?

Was I, or did I desire to be, anything else than one of my knight's

retinue, even if for the time I happened to be the only one? Could I

have any other concern than for the fact that I could not at the same

time devote the same reverential service to my knight's lovely

daughter?

CHAPTER X.

Since that memorable walk with her through the wood to the ruins on the

promontory, I had not again been alone with Constance for a long time.

During the three rainy days I saw her at the dinner table, and perhaps

about as often at supper when we returned from shooting; but always in

the presence of her father, and usually of Herren von Trantow and

Granow, our companions of the field and the card-table. On these

occasions she scarcely lifted her lovely eyes from her untouched plate,

while the tall Hans stared at her after his fashion, the short Granow

chattered away as usual, undisturbed by her chilling silence, and Herr

von Zehren, who in his daughter's presence always seemed in a

singularly irritated mood, loosed at her more than one of his keen

sarcastic shafts. These were for me sad and bitter hours, and all the

bitterer as I, with all my desire to be of service, felt myself so

utterly helpless, and what was worst of all, thought I observed that

she no longer excepted me from the aversion which she openly manifested

towards her father's friends. In the first days of my stay at the

castle it was entirely different. In those days she had always for me a

ready friendly glance, a kind word occasionally whispered, a cordial if

hasty pressure of the hand. This was all now at an end. She spoke to me

no more, she looked at me no more, except at times with a look in which

indignation seemed mingled with contempt, and which cut me to the

heart.

And had I been short-sighted enough to mistake the meaning of these

looks, a word dropped by old Pahlen would have opened my eyes.

I hit upon the idea of asking permission to occupy, instead of my

present room in the front of the house, one of the empty apartments

looking on the park. Into this I carried from time to time various

articles of furniture, most of them still valuable, which were lying

about in the dilapidated regions of the upper story, until I had

brought together an accumulation which presented a very singular

appearance. Herr von Zehren laughed heartily when one day coming to

call me to dinner, as I in my new occupation had forgotten the hour, he

caught me hard at work arranging my worm-eaten and tarnished treasures.

"Your furniture does not lack variety, at all events," he said; "for an

antiquary the rubbish would not be without interest. Really, it is like

a chapter out of one of Scott's novels. There, in that high-backed

chair, Dr. Dryasdust might have sat; you must set that here, if the old

fellow does not tumble over as soon as you take him from the wall. So!

a little nearer to the window. Isn't that a splendid piece! It comes

down from my great-grandfather's time. He was ambassador at the court

of Augustus the Strong, and the only one of our family, so far as I

know, who as head of the house ever entered public service. He brought

from Dresden the handsome vases of which you see a potsherd there, and

a decided taste for Moorish servants, parrots, and ladies. But _de

mortuis_--Really the old chair is still right comfortable. And what a

magnificent view of the park, just from this place! I shall often come

to see you, for it is really charming."

In fact he did come once or twice in the next few days, while a heavy

rain kept us all in the house, to smoke his cigar and have a chat; but

when the weather cleared up, he thought no more about it, and I was

careful enough, on my part, not to recall my museum to his

recollection. For I had only arranged it in order to be nearer to

Constance, and to have a view of the park, about whose neglected walks

she loved to wander. I could also see a strip of the terrace that lay

under her windows, but unfortunately only the outer margin, as the part

of the castle in which she lived fell back from the main-building about

the breadth of the terrace. But still it was something: the faint light

which in the evening fell upon the balustrade came from her room, and

once or twice I caught an indistinct glimpse of her form, as she paced

up and down the terrace, or leaning upon the balustrade gazed into the

park, over which night had already spread her dusky veil. And when I

did not see her, I heard her music and her songs, among which there was

none I loved better than that which I had heard the first evening, and

now knew by heart:

"All day long the bright sun loves me,

Woos me with his glowing light;

But I better love the gentle

Stars of night."

In truth I also loved them well, the stars of night, for often and

often when the pale light had vanished from the balustrade, and the

song I so loved had long ceased, I still sat at my open window gazing

at the stars, which shone in all the splendor of a September night, and

listening to the solemn music of the wind in the ancient trees of the

park.

In the meantime the happiness which only young hearts, or such as have

long retained their youth, can appreciate, was, as I have said, but of

brief duration. The singular change in Constance's manner towards me,

plucked me from my heaven; and I tortured my brain in the effort to

discover what cause had brought me into her disfavor. But think

as I might, I could find no key to the mystery; and at last I

resolved--though a foreboding of evil warned me against it--to have

recourse to Pahlen, who, if any one, could solve me the enigma that

weighed so heavily upon my foolish head.

This ugly old woman had lately been rather more obliging. I had

soon discovered that she was extremely fond of money, and I did not

hesitate now and then, under one pretence or another, to slip into her

wrinkled brown hands two or three of the _thalers_ that I won at the

card-table--for naturally enough I had abandoned my resolution to play

no more. The glitter of the silver softened her stony old heart; she no

longer growled and grumbled when I ventured to speak to her, and once

or twice actually brought coffee to my room with her own hands. When I

thought that the taming process was sufficiently advanced, I ventured

to ask her about the subject nearest my heart--her young mistress. She

threw me one of her suspicious looks, and finally, as I repeated my

question, puckered her ugly old face into a repulsive grin, and said:

"Yes; catch mice with cheese; but you need not try that game; old

Pahlen is too sharp for you."

What was the game that I need not try?

As I could not find a satisfactory answer to this question, I asked the

old woman on the following day.

"You need not make as if you did not know," she said, with a kind of

respect, inspired probably by my innocent manner, which she naturally

took for a masterpiece of deception; "I am not going to betray my young

lady for a couple of _thalers_. I have been sorry enough, I can tell

you, that I helped to clear up this room for you, and she has

complained bitterly enough about it."

"But, good heaven," I said, "I will cheerfully go back to my old room

if the young lady wishes it. I never thought it would be so extremely

disagreeable to her if I caught a sight of her now and then. I could

not have supposed it."

"And that was all you wanted?" asked the old woman.

I did not answer. I was half desperate to think that--heaven knows how

involuntarily--I had offended her whom I so deeply loved; and yet I was

glad to learn at last what my offence was. Like the young fool I was, I

strode up and down the great room, and cried:

"I will quit this room this very day; I will not sleep another night in

it; tell your young lady that; and tell her that I would leave the

castle this very hour, only that I do not know what to say to Herr von

Zehren."

And I threw myself into the old worm-eaten, high-backed chair, at

imminent risk of its destruction, with the deepest distress evident in

my features.

The tone of my voice, the expression of my countenance, probably joined

with my words to convince the old woman of my sincerity.

"Yes, yes," she said, "what could you say to him? He certainly would

not let you go, although for my part I do not know what he really wants

with you. Do you stay here, and I will speak with my young lady."

"Do, dear, good Mrs. Pahlen!" I cried, springing up and seizing one of

the old woman's bony hands. "Speak with her, tell her--" I turned

suddenly red, stammered out some awkward phrase or other, and once more

adjured her to speak with her young lady.

The old woman, who had been watching me all the while with a curious,

piercing look, remained thoughtful for a few moments, then said curtly

she would see what could be done, and left me.

I remained, much disturbed. The consciousness that the old woman had

penetrated my secret, was very painful to me; but I consoled myself

with the reflection that if she was really, as she seemed to be,

Constance's confidante, I certainly need feel no shame to take her into

my confidence also; and finally, what was done was done, and if

Constance now learned for the first time that I loved her, that I was

ready to do or to suffer anything for her sake, she would certainly

forgive me what I had done. What had I done, then? How could she, who

at first received me so kindly, who in jest which seemed earnest chose

me for her service, who on that evening exacted of me the promise not

to go until she gave me permission--how could she feel offence at what

at the very worst she could but regard as a token of my love and

admiration?

Thus, under my inexperienced hands, the threads of my destiny were

wound into an evermore inextricable clue; and with violent beatings of

the heart I entered an hour later the dining-room, where to-day,

besides our usual guests, three or four others were assembled. They

were waiting for the young lady's appearance to take their places at

the table. After dinner they were to go out for a little shooting.

As was usual with her, Constance subjected her father's impatience to a

severe trial; but at last she appeared.

I do not know how it happened that this time I, who always, when guests

were present, took my seat at the foot of the table, happened to be

placed next to her. It was certainly not intentional on my part, for in

the frame of mind in which I was, I would have done anything rather

than obtrude my presence upon my fair enemy. So I scarcely dared to

raise my eyes, and in my excessive confusion loaded my plate with

viands of which every morsel seemed about to choke me. How joyfully

then was I surprised, when Constance, after sitting for a few minutes

in her accustomed silence, suddenly asked me, in a low friendly tone,

if I had not time to fill her a glass of wine.

"Why did you not ask me, _meine Gnädigste_?"[3] cried Herr von Granow,

who sat on the other side of her.

"I prefer to be served in my own way," answered Constance, almost

turning her back upon the little man, and continuing to speak with me.

I answered as well as I could, and as she continued speaking in a low

tone, I imitated her example, and leaned towards her in order better to

catch her words; and thus, as I looked into her dark eyes, I forgot

what she had asked me, or answered at a venture, at which she laughed;

and because she laughed I laughed also, and all this together made up

the most charming little confidential _tête-à-tête_, although we were

speaking of the most indifferent things in the world. I took no notice

of anything else that was passing; only once I observed that Hans von

Trantow, who sat opposite us, was staring at us with wide-open eyes;

but I thought nothing of it, for the good fellow's eyes usually wore

that expression.

Much sooner than I could have wished, Herr von Zehren rose from the

table. Before the house were waiting a lot of barefooted, bareheaded

boys, with creels on their backs; the dogs were barking and leaping

about the men, who were arranging their accoutrements and loading their

guns. Constance came out with us, which she had never before done, and

called to me as we were about starting, "I cannot wish _them_ good

luck, and would not wish _you_ bad." Then, after including the rest in

a general salutation, she gave me a friendly wave of the hand and

re-entered the house.

"Which way are we going to-day?" I asked Herr von Zehren, as I came to

his side.

"It was long enough discussed at dinner. Your attention seems to have

been wandering."

It was the first time that he had ever spoken to me in an unfriendly

tone, and my countenance probably expressed the surprise that I felt,

for he quickly added:

"I did not mean to wound you; and besides it was no fault of yours."

We had reached a stubble-field, and the shooting began. Herr von Zehren

posted me on the left wing, while he kept upon the right; thus I was

separated from him and did not once come near him during the rest of

the day. This also had never before occurred. He had hitherto always

kept me by him, and was delighted when, as often happened, more game

fell to our two guns than to those of all the rest. My shooting was

this day poor enough. The happiness which Constance's unexpected

friendliness had given me, was embittered by her father's unexpected

unkindness. The birds which my dog Caro put up--Herr von Zehren had

given me one of his best dogs--flew off untouched while I was pondering

over the unhappy relations between father and daughter, and how I could

not show my affection for the one without offending the other, and what

was to become of my favorite scheme of reconciling the two.

I was quite lost in these melancholy reflections when Herr von Granow

joined me. It was already growing dusk, and the day's sport was

virtually over, only now and then we heard a distant shot among the

bushes of the heath. No order was now kept, and I soon found myself

alone with the little man as we ascended a slight hill.

"What has happened between you and the old man?" he asked, hanging his

gun across his shoulders and coming to my side.

"What do you mean?" I inquired.

"Well, it struck me in that light, and not me only; the others noticed

it too. I can assure you that he looked once or twice across the table

at you as if he would eat you."

"I have done nothing to offend him," I said.

"That I can well believe," continued the little man. "And this

afternoon he scarcely spoke a word with you."

I was silent, for I did not know what to say.

"Yes, yes," pursued my companion; "but do not hurry so, nobody can keep

up with you. You are in an ugly position."

"How so?" I asked.

"Don't you really know?"

"No."

Herr von Granow was so convinced of his superior acuteness, that it

never occurred to him that my ignorance might be feigned in order to

draw him out.

"Yes, yes," he said. "You are still young, and at your years one is

often deaf and blind to things which we who know the world seize at the

first glance. The old man and the young lady live together like cat and

dog; but really, when one thinks of it, neither has such great cause to

love the other. She leads a wretched life through his fault. He would

gladly be rid of her, but who is going to take her off his hands? I

have considered the matter from all sides; but it can't be managed--it

really can't."

I was in doubt, when my companion began to talk in this way, whether I

should strike him to the earth for his impudence, or burst into loud

laughter. I took a side-look at him; the little man with his short

trotting legs, his foolish face scarlet from his exertions, and his

half-open mouth--I could not resist, but fairly shook with laughter.

"I do not see what you are laughing about," he said, rather surprised

than offended. "The little comedy which she played for you and the rest

of us this afternoon, can hardly have turned your brain, if I may so

express myself. And it is just upon that subject that I would like to

give you some information.

"What can you mean?" I asked.

My merriment was at an end, and I was serious enough now. A comedy

which she had played for me? "What can you mean?" I asked again more

urgently than before.

Herr von Granow, who had been walking at a little distance from me,

trotted up close to my side, and said in a confidential tone:

"After all, I cannot think hard of you about it. You are still so

young; and I often do not know myself on what footing I am standing

with the girl. But this much is clear: out of pure obstinacy against

her father, and perhaps a little calculation to raise her own value,

and perhaps, too, because she thinks it will make no difference anyhow,

but mainly out of mere stubbornness and self-will, has she put on these

airs of a princess, and behaves as if for her I and the rest had no

existence. If she suddenly began to coquet with you in my--I should say

in our presence, that really signifies nothing; it is but a little

pleasantry that she allows herself with you, and which has no further

consequences; but it must provoke the old man, and it did provoke him.

You did not observe it, you say, but I can assure you he bit his lip

and stroked his beard as he always does when anything vexes him."

The little man had no notion what a tumult he was stirring up in my

breast; he took my silence for acquiescence and for acknowledgement of

his superior wisdom, and so proceeded, in delight at being able to

speak of such interesting topics and to have secured such an attentive

listener.

"I fancy that the whole conduct of the young lady puts a spoke in his

wheel. Do you know how much I have lost to him during the six months

that I have been here? Over eight hundred _thalers_. And Trantow nearly

twice as much; and all the rest are cursing their ill-fortune. He has

had a wonderful run of luck, it is true; it is not always so; but then

when he loses one must take it out in his wine and his cognac, and you

can imagine the prices he rates them at. Well, one wants something at

least for one's money; for the sake of such a pretty girl one lets a

couple of hundreds go, and does not watch the old man's hands too

closely. But it used to be all quite different; she used to join in the

play, and smoke cigars with the gentlemen, and go out shooting and

riding--the wilder the horses the better she liked it. It used to be a

heathenish life, Sylow says, and he ought to know. But since last

summer, and that affair with the prince----"

"What affair was that?" I asked. I was consumed with the desire to hear

everything that Herr von Granow had to tell. I no longer felt the

contumely which this man was heaping upon my kind host and upon the

maiden I adored; or if I did, I thought that the reckoning should come

afterwards, but first I must hear all.

"You don't know that?" he inquired, eagerly. "But, to be sure, who

could have told you? Trantow is mute as a fish, and the others don't

know what to think of you. I hold you for an honest fellow, and do not

believe that you are a spy, or leagued with the old man; his looks at

dinner were too queer for that. You won't tell him what I have been

saying to you, will you?"

"Not a word," I said.

"Well then, this is the story. Last summer the old man was at D----,

and she was with him. At a watering-place people are not so particular;

any one who chose might go about with him. The young Prince Prora was

there too; he had persuaded his physicians that he was unwell and

needed sea-bathing, so he was sent there with his tutor. The old prince

was at the Residence, just as he is now, and the young one made good

use of his liberty. I had just bought my place here, was no sooner on

it than I caught a devilish rheumatism on these infernal moors; and so

I went there for a week or so and saw something of it, but the most was

told me by others. Naturally enough there was high play; but the

highest was in private circles, for at the _Spielsaal_ they only allow

moderate stakes. The prince kept constantly in the old man's company,

some said for the sake of the play, others, to pay his court to the

young lady; and probably both were right. I have often enough seen them

sitting and walking together in the park of an evening; and they were

gay enough, I can testify. Now they say that the old man had bad luck,

and lost twenty thousand _thalers_ to the prince, which he had to pay

in two days. Where was he to get the money? So, as they say, he offered

the prince his daughter instead. Others say he asked fifty thousand,

and others again a hundred thousand for the bargain. Well, for any one

who had the money, it may be that was not too much; but unluckily the

young prince did not have the money. It will be two years before he is

of age, and then, if the old prince is still alive, he will only get

the property of his deceased mother, of which not much is ready cash, I

take it. In a word, the affair hung fire; and one fine day here comes

the old prince, who had got some wind of the matter, tearing over from

the Residence, read the youngster a terrible lecture, and offered

Zehren a handsome sum to go out of the country with Constance until the

young prince was married. Now the thing might have been all arranged,

for all that Zehren wanted was to make a good hit of it, if he and the

prince could have kept from personally appearing in the business. But

Zehren, who, when he takes the notion, can be as proud as Lucifer,

insisted upon arranging the affair with the prince in person, and so

the scandal broke out. There was a terrible scene, they say, and the

prince was carried for dead to his hotel. What happened, nobody exactly

knows. But this much is certain: the late princess, who was born

Countess Sylow--I have the facts from young Sylow, who is related to

the count--fell in love with Zehren when he was a young man staying

with the prince at the Residence and attending the court balls, and

only married the prince because she was compelled to it. The prince

either knew it then, or found it out soon afterwards, and they led a

miserable life together. It is probable that Zehren and he, in their

dispute, raked up some of these old stories; one word led to another,

as always happens. Zehren is like a madman when he gets into a rage,

and the prince has none of the coolest of tempers--in a word, the thing

came to an explosion. Zehren left the place; and the prince a day or

two later, with a pair of blue marks on his throat left there by

Zehren's fingers, they said."

"And the young prince?"

"What did he care? All pretty girls are the same to him; he knows how

to enjoy life. I wonder if he holds fast this time. He has already been

over three weeks at Rossow. I should feel rather queer about staying in

this part of the country after what has happened. I would not for my

life meet Herr von Zehren if I knew that my father had given him deadly

offence."

"What does he look like?"

"Oh, he is a handsome young fellow; very slender, elegant, and amiable.

I fancy Fräulein von Zehren owes her father small thanks for having

broken off the affair, for I will say for her honor that she does not

know what the scheme really was. True, others say that she knew it very

well, and was perfectly satisfied with the arrangement."

I listened with intensest interest to this narrative of my companion's,

as if my life depended upon its result. This then was the mystery: it

was the young Prince of Prora who was the "chosen one" of her song. Now

I remembered how she blushed when Granow that evening alluded to the

prince, and at the same time I recalled the dark figure in the park.

Had I only got him in my hands!

I groaned aloud with grief and anger.

"You are tired," said the little man, "and besides I see we have

strayed considerably out of our way. We must keep to the right; but

there are two or three ugly places in the moor, and in the dusk I am

afraid we shall not be able to get through. Let us rather go round a

little. Heaven knows how little you big fellows can stand; there was a

Herr von Westen-Taschen in my regiment, a fellow, if anything, bigger

than you, only perhaps not quite so broad across the shoulders.

'Westen,' I said to him one day, 'I'll bet you that I can run'--but,

good heavens, what is that?"

It was a man who suddenly arose out of a little hollow, in which we had

not noticed him--probably could not have seen him in the dusk--about

twenty paces from us, and disappeared again instantly.

"Let us go nearer," I said.

"For heaven's sake no," whispered my companion, holding me fast by my

game-pouch.

"Perhaps the man has met with an accident," I said.

"God forbid," said the little man. "But we might, if we did not keep

out of his way. I beg you come along."

Herr von Granow was so urgent, and evinced so much anxiety, that I did

as he entreated me; but after we had gone a short distance I could not

refrain from stopping and looking round as I heard a low whistle behind

me. The man was going across the heath with long strides, another rose

from the same spot and followed him, then another and another, until I

had counted eight. They had all great packs upon their backs, but went,

notwithstanding, at a rapid pace, keeping accurate distance. In a few

minutes their dark figures had vanished, as if the black moor over

which they were striding had swallowed them up.

Herr von Granow drew a deep breath. "Do you see?" said he, "I was

right. Infernal rascals that run like rats over places where any honest

Christian would sink. I'll wager they were some of Zehren's men."

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"Oh, well," he went on, "we all dabble in it a little about here, or at

least make our profit of it. In the short time that I have been here, I

have found out that there is no help for it, and that the rascals would

burn the house over your head if you did not look through your fingers

and stand by them in every way. Only the day before yesterday, as I was

standing by my garden-wall, a fellow comes running across the lawn and

says that I must hide him, the patrol is after him. I give you my word

I made him creep into the oven, as there was no other hiding-place

handy, and with my own hands heaped a pile of straw before the door;

and when the patrol came up, five minutes later, said I had seen the

fellow making for the wood. Upon my honor I was ashamed of myself; but

what is one to do? And so I would not say anything against the old man,

if he only would not carry things to such extremes. But he drives it

too far, I tell you, he drives it too far; it must take a bad turn;

there is but one opinion about that."

"But," said I, taking the greatest pains to speak as calmly as

possible, "I have been already about three weeks here, and I give you

my honor" (this phrase I had lately caught) "that as yet I have not

seen the slightest thing to confirm the evil repute in which, as I hear

to my great uneasiness, Herr von Zehren stands, even with his friends.

Yes, I will admit that when I first came here, some such fancies came

into my head, I cannot tell how, but I have long driven so disgraceful

a suspicion from my mind."

"Suspicion!" said the old man, speaking with even greater vivacity, and

taking shorter and quicker steps; "who talks of suspicion? The thing is

as clear as amen in the church. If you have observed nothing--which

really surprises me, but your word of course is sufficient--the reason

is because the weather has been so bad. Still, the business is not

altogether at a stand-still, as you have yourself just now seen. I

declare, one feels very queer to think one is sitting in the very

middle of it all. And last Thursday I had to take a lot of wine and

cognac from him, and Trantow as much more a couple of days before, and

Sylow still more, but he, I believe, divides with somebody else."

"And why should not Herr von Zehren dispose of his surplus stock to his

friends?" I asked, incredulously.

"His surplus stock?" cried Herr von Granow. "Yes, to be sure there was

a great deal left over from the last vintage; he has enough in his

cellars, they say, to supply half the island. And that is a heavy load

for him to carry; for he has to pay the smuggler captains in cash, and

the market at Uselin has grown very poor, as I hear. Lately they have

got very shy there. Since so many have taken to dabbling in the

business, no one thoroughly trusts another. Formerly, I am told, the

whole trade was in the hands of a pair of respectable firms. But all

that you must know much better than I; your father is an officer of the

customs."

"True," I answered, "and I am so much the more surprised that, among so

many, I have never heard Herr von Zehren's name mentioned--supposing

your suspicion to be founded on fact."

"But don't keep always talking about 'suspicion,'" cried the little

man, peevishly. "It is there just as it is everywhere else, they hang

the little thieves and let the big ones go. The gentlemen of the

custom-house know what they are about. A couple of _thalers_ or

_louis-d'ors_ at the right time will make many things smooth; and when

one has, like the old man, a brother councillor of excise, Mr.

Inspector will probably not be so impolite as to interfere with the

councillor's brother."

"That is an insult, Herr von Granow," I cried in a fury; "I have

already told you that my own father is an officer in the customs."

"Well, but then I thought that you and your father were not on the best

terms," said Herr von Granow. "And if your father has driven you off,

why----"

"That concerns nobody!" I exclaimed, "unless it be Herr von Zehren, who

has received me into his house, and been kind and friendly to me

always. If my father has sent me away, or driven me off, as you call

it, I gave him cause enough; but that has nothing to do with his

integrity, and I will strike any man dead, like a dog, who asperses my

father's honor."

As Herr von Granow did not and could not know in how many ways all that

he had said had lacerated my tenderest feelings, my sudden wrath, which

had been only waiting an opportunity to burst forth, must have appeared

to him terrible and incomprehensible. A young man, who had probably

always appeared to him suspicious, and now doubly so, of whose bodily

strength he had seen more than one surprising proof, speaking in such a

voice of striking dead--and then the desolate heath, the growing

darkness--the little man muttered some unintelligible words, while he

cautiously widened the distance between us, and then, probably in fear

of my loaded gun, came up again and very meekly declared that he had

not the slightest intention to offend me; that it was not to be

supposed that a respectable officer like my father had knowingly placed

his son with a notorious smuggler. And that, on the other side, the

suspicion that I was a spy in the pay of the authorities, could not

possibly be reconciled with my honest face and my straightforward

conduct, and was indeed perfectly ridiculous; that he would with all

his heart admit that everything that was said about Herr von Zehren was

pure fabrication--people talked so much just for the sake of talking.

Besides, he, who had only recently come into the neighborhood, could

least of all judge what there might be in it; and he would be extremely

delighted, and account it an especial honor, to receive me as a guest

at his house, there where we could now see the lights shining, and

where the others must have arrived long ago, and to drown all

unpleasantness in a bottle of wine.

I scarcely comprehended what he said, my agitation was so extreme. I

replied curtly that it was all right, that I did not believe he

intended to offend me. Then asking him to excuse me to Herr von Zehren,

I strode across the heath towards the road which I knew so well, which

led from Melchow, Granow's estate, to Zehrendorf.

CHAPTER XI.

The following morning was so fine that it might well have cheered even

a gloomier spirit than mine. And in my fatigue I had fallen so promptly

asleep when I laid my tired head upon the pillow, and had slept so

soundly, that it required some consideration upon awaking to recall the

circumstances that had caused me so much agitation the previous

evening. Gradually they recurred to my memory, and once more my cheeks

burned, and I felt, as I always did when under excitement, that I must

rush out into the free air and under the blue sky; so I hurried down

the steep back-stair into the park.

Here I wandered about under the tall trees, which waved their light

sprays in the morning breeze, along the wild paths, and among the

bushes brightened with the sunlight, at intervals listening to some

bird piping incessantly his monotonous autumn song, or marking some

caterpillar swinging by a fathom-long filament from a twig overhead,

while I bent my thoughts to the task, so difficult for a young man, of

obtaining a clear view of my situation.

I had told Granow the evening before but the simple truth: so long as I

had been upon the estate nothing had occurred to confirm his suspicion.

During the whole of this time I had scarcely left the side of Herr von

Zehren. No strangers had come about the place; there had been no

suspicious meetings; no goods had been received, and none sent out,

except a barrel or two of wine to the neighbors. To be sure, the people

on the estate looked as if they were accustomed to anything rather than

honest industry, and especially my tall friend Jock could not possibly

have a clear conscience; but the cotters on the various estates around

were all a rough, uncouth, piratical-looking crew, as indeed many of

them had been fishermen and sailors, and were so still when occasion

offered. That the gang which we had seen crossing the heath did not

belong to our people, I was convinced when I passed the laborer's

cottages, and saw Jock with two or three others lounging about the

doors as usual.

And then, granting that Herr von Zehren was really all that evil

tongues called him, still he did nothing more or worse than his

neighbors. They all dabbled a little in it, Granow had said; and if all

these aristocratic gentlemen made no scruple of filling their cellars

with wine that they knew to be smuggled, the receiver was as bad as the

thief, and Herr von Zehren was here, as always and everywhere, only the

bolder man who had the courage to do what the others would willingly

have done if they dared.

And, after all, I was bound to him by the firmest ties of gratitude.

Should I go away for a mere suspicion, the silly gossip of a prating

tongue, and abandon him who had always been so kind, so friendly to

me?--who had given me his best--no, his second-best gun and dog; whose

purse and cigar-case--and ah, what exquisite cigars he had!--were at

all times at my service? Never! And even if he really were a smuggler,

a professional smuggler--but how could I find out once for all whether

he was or not?

Most simply, by going directly to himself. I had justification for

doing so. My honesty was questioned by his friends; they did not know

what to think of me. I could not allow this to go on unnoticed. Herr

von Zehren could not expect that I should, on his account, incur the

dishonoring suspicion of being either a spy or an accomplice. But

suppose he were to say: "Very well; then go. I do not detain you."

I seated myself upon a stone-bench under a spreading maple at the edge

of the park, and resting my elbow upon the half-fallen table, and

leaning my head upon my hand, gazed at the castle which threw its

shadow far over the lawn, now golden in the morning sun.

Never had the ruinous old pile seemed so dear to me. How well I

knew each tall chimney, each tuft of grass growing upon the gray

moss-covered roof of tiles, the three balconies, two small ones to the

right and left, and in the middle the great one upon which the three

glass doors opened from the upper hall, resting upon its massive

pillars with the fantastic voluted capitals. How well I knew each

window, with the weather-beaten wooden shutters that were never closed,

and the most of which, indeed, were past closing. Some were hanging by

a single hinge, and one belonging to the third window to the right

always slammed at night when the wind was from the west. I had a dozen

times resolved to secure it, but always forgot it again. The two

windows at the corner to the left were those of my room, my poetic room

with the precious old furniture, which to my eye had such an imposing

effect that I felt like a young prince in the midst of all this

magnificence. What happy hours had I already passed in this room! Early

mornings, when, joyous in the anticipation of the day's sport, I sang

as I dressed myself and arranged my ammunition; late evenings when I

returned home with my friend, heated with wine and play and jovial

discourse, and sitting at the window, inhaled the fragrant aroma of my

cigar, or drank in large draughts the pure, cool night-air, while

thoughts crowded one another in my mind, foolish and sentimental

thoughts, all turning to the fair maiden who doubtless had been

slumbering for hours in her chamber by the terrace.

What was it that the shameless slanderer had said of her? I scarcely

dared to recall his words to my mind. I could not comprehend how I

could have borne to listen to them, or how it was that I let him escape

unchastized after so desecrating the object of my idolatry. The

miserable creature! The conceited, upstart, envious little oaf! Little

blame to her that she would have nothing to do with such a lover as he,

or the rest of her country squires. And for this they now breathed

their venomous slanders against her: said that she would have sold

herself--she, the lovely, the noble, the pure, for whom a king's

throne would have been too low! Was there any head more worthy of a

diadem--any form more fit to be folded in the mantle of purple? Oh, I

desired nothing for myself; it was enough for me if I might touch the

hem of her vesture. But the others should honor her as well as I. No

one, not if he were prince or king, should dare to approach her without

her permission. If she would only, as she had jestingly said that

night, let me keep watch at her threshold!

Thus humbly I thought of her in my full, young heart, that was breaking

with love and longing. And I did it in the most assured conviction, in

the firmest faith, of the nobility and purity of her I loved so dearly.

I can truly say there was no drop of blood in my veins that did not

belong to her. I would have given my life for her had she asked it of

me, had she taken me for the true heart that I was, had she dealt

honestly with me. Was it a presentiment of the brief space of time that

I was still to cherish the simple faith that there is a spark of virtue

in every human breast that nothing can entirely extinguish, that made

me now bow my head upon my hands and shed hot tears?

I suddenly lifted my head, for I fancied I heard a rustling close

behind me, and I was not mistaken. It was Constance, who came through

the bushes hedging the path to the beech-wood. I sprang suddenly in

confusion to my feet, and stood before her, ere I had time to wipe the

traces of my tears from my cheeks.

"My good George," she said, offering me her hand with a gentle smile,

"you are my true friend, are you not?"

I murmured some indistinct reply.

"Let me sit here by you a little while," she said; "I feel somewhat

tired; I have been up so long. Do you know where I have been? In the

forest by the tarn, and afterwards up at the ruin. Do you know that we

have never again gone there together? I was thinking of it this

morning, and was sorry; it is so beautiful up on the cliffs, and

walking with you is so pleasant. Why do you never come there to bring

me home? Don't you remember what you promised me: to be my faithful

George, and kill all the dragons in my path? How many have you killed?"

She glanced at me from under her long lashes with her unfathomable

brown eyes, and abashed I looked upon the ground. "Why do you not

answer?" she asked. "Has my father forbidden you?"

"No," I replied, "but I do not know whether you are not mocking me. You

have shown me lately so little kindness, that at last I have hardly

dared to speak to you or even to look at you."

"And you really do not know why I have lately been less friendly

towards you?"

"No," I answered, and added softly, "unless it be because I am so much

attached to your father; and how can I be otherwise?"

Her looks darkened, "And if that were the reason," she said, "could you

blame me? My father does not love me; he has given me too many proofs

of that. How can any one love me who is 'so much attached to my

father?'"--she spoke the last words with bitterness--"who perhaps

reports to him every word that I say, and to the watchers and

tale-bearers by whom I am surrounded adds another, so much the more

dangerous as I should have expected from him anything but treachery."

"Treachery--treachery from me?" I exclaimed with horror.

"Yes, treachery," she answered, speaking in a lower tone, but more

rapidly and passionately. "I know that Sophie, my maid, is bribed; I

know that old Christian, who skulks about, day and night, watches me

like a prisoner. I am not at all sure that old Pahlen, who shows some

devotion to me, would not sell me for a handful of _thalers_. Yes, I am

betrayed, betrayed on all sides. Whether by you--no; I will trust your

honest blue eyes, although I had really good reason for suspecting

you."

I was half distracted to hear Constance speaking thus; and I implored

her, I adjured her, to tell me what horrible delusion had deceived her,

for that it was a delusion I was ready to prove. She should, she must

tell me all.

"Well then," she said, "is it delusion or truth that on the very first

evening of your stay here, by order of my father, who brought you here

for that purpose, you kept watch under my window, when afterwards you

pretended to me that it was my music that had attracted you?"

I started at these last words, which were accompanied with a dark

suspicious look. That dark figure then had really been stealing to a

rendezvous; and he had been there since, else how could she know what

had happened?

"You need make no further confession," said Constance, bitterly. "You

have not yet sufficiently learned your lesson of dissimulation. And I,

good-natured fool, believed that you were my faithful George."

I was near weeping with grief and indignation.

"For heaven's sake," I cried, "do not condemn me without a hearing. I

went into the park without any special intention; without an idea that

I should meet him--any one. If I had known that the man whom I saw from

this point come out of the shrubbery yonder, came with your permission,

I should never have intercepted him, but would have let him go

unmolested where, as it seems, he was expected."

"Who says that he came by my permission, and that he was expected?" she

asked.

"Yourself," I promptly answered. "The fact that you are informed of

what none but he and I could know."

Constance glanced at me, and a smile passed across her features.

"Indeed!" she said, "how skilful we are at combinations! Who would have

believed it of us? But you are mistaken. I know of it from him, that is

true; but I did not expect him, nor had he my permission. More than

this: I solemnly assure you that I had no idea that he was so near.

'And now?' your look seems to inquire. Now he is as far as he ever was.

He wrote to me by a medium--no matter how--that he made an attempt to

see me on that evening, in order to communicate something which he did

not wish me to learn from another. I answered him by the same way that

I had already learned it through another, and that for the sake both of

his peace and my own, I entreated him to make no attempt to approach

me. This is all, nor will there ever be more. It is not my custom to

ask of those that love me, to sacrifice for me their futures and their

lives. And that would be the case here. That person can enter into no

engagements without his father's consent, and my father has taken care

that this consent shall never be given. He will only be free after his

father's death. Before this happens years may pass. He shall not

sacrifice those years to me."

"And he consents to this," I cried, indignantly; "he does not rather

renounce his title and inheritance than give you up? He does not rather

allow himself to be torn to pieces than renounce you? And this man

possesses millions, and calls himself a prince."

"You know, then, who it was?" asked Constance, apparently alarmed,

adding with bitterness: "To be sure, why should you not? Of course you

are my father's confidant, and told him the whole adventure at once, as

in duty bound."

"I never breathed a word of it to any living creature," I answered,

"nor has Herr von Zehren ever in my presence uttered the name of the

prince."

"What need of the name?" she retorted. "Things can be plainly told

without mentioning names. But, whatever he may have told you, he never

told you that Carl is my betrothed; that our union was prevented by his

fault alone; that he has ruthlessly sacrificed my happiness to a

haughty caprice, to revenge himself upon the father of my betrothed at

the cost of us both; and that far from offering me an at least

tolerable existence in requital for the brilliant future out of which

he has cheated me, makes my life a daily and hourly torment. He killed

my mother, and he will kill me."

"For God's sake, do not talk in that way," I cried.

"This life is no life; it is death--worse than death," she murmured,

letting her head sink upon the table.

"Then you still love him who has abandoned you?" I said.

"No," she replied, raising her head; "no! I have already told you that

as it is, so it must remain. I have freely and entirely renounced him.

I am too proud to give my heart--which is all I have to give--to one

who does not give me all in return. And, George, can one give more than

his heart?"

I would have answered, "Then, Constance, you have my all;" but my voice

failed me. I could but gaze at her with a look in which lay my whole

heart--the full heart of a youth, overflowing with foolish, faithful

love.

She pressed my hand, and said, "My good George, I will--yes, I must

believe that you are true to me. And now that we have had our talk out,

and are good friends again, let us go to the house, where old Pahlen

will be expecting me to breakfast."

She had fallen at once into the tone in which we had commenced the

conversation, and continued:

"Do you go shooting to-day? Are you fond of shooting? I used to go

sometimes; but that is long ago--so long ago! I used to be a good

rider, and now I think I could not keep my seat in the saddle. I have

unlearned everything; but chiefly how to be gay. Are you always

cheerful, George? I often hear you singing in the morning such charming

merry songs; you have a fine voice. You should teach me your songs; I

know none but sad ones."

How enchanting this prattle was to me! But as her recent unkindness had

made me silent and reserved, so now the unlooked-for kindness she

showed me produced the same effect. I went by her side, with a half

confused, half happy smile upon my face, across the wide lawn to the

house, where, on reaching her terrace, we separated, after exchanging

another pressure of the hand.

In three bounds I had ascended the steep stair, flung open violently

the door of my room, but stopped upon the threshold with some surprise,

as I saw Herr von Zehren sitting in the great high-backed chair at the

window.

He half turned his head, and said:

"You have kept me waiting long; I have been sitting here fully an

hour."

This did not tend to restore my composure; from his chair one could see

across the lawn directly to the seat under the maple. If Herr von

Zehren had been sitting here an hour, he had certainly seen with his

keen eyes much more than I could have wished. I returned his salutation

with great embarrassment, which certainly did not diminish when he

said, with a gesture towards the seat: "Mary Stuart, George, eh? Sir

Paulet the cruel jailor with the great bunch of keys? Enthusiastic

Mortimer--'Life is but a moment, and death but another'--eh? Faithless

Lord Leicester, who has the convenient habit of taking ship for France

as soon as heads are in danger!"

He filliped the ash from his cigar, and then with one of those

instantaneous changes of humor to which I had grown accustomed, began

to laugh aloud, and said:

"No, my dear George, you must not turn such a look of indignation upon

me. I am really your friend; and, as I said to you yesterday, it is no

fault of yours, and I frankly ask you to forgive me if I yesterday for

a moment made you suffer for what you are entirely innocent of. She has

to play her comedies; she has done it from a child. I have indeed often

feared that she gets it from her unhappy mother. Many a one has

suffered from it, and I not the least; but you I would willingly save.

I have often enough warned you indirectly, and now do it plainly. What

are you about?"

I had, at his last words, hurried across the room and seized my hat,

which hung by the door. "What are you about?" he cried again, springing

from his chair, and catching me by the arm.

"I am going," I stammered, while my eyes filled with tears that I

vainly endeavored to repress, "away from here. I cannot bear to hear

Fräulein Constance thus spoken of."

"And then it would be such a happy opportunity to get away from me

too," said he, fixing his large dark eyes upon mine with a piercing

look; "is it not so?"

"Yes," I answered, collecting all my firmness, "and from you too."

"Go then," he said.

I moved towards the door, and was feeling for the latch, for my eyes

were blinded with tears.

"George," he cried, "George!"

The tone cut me to the heart; I turned, and seizing both his hands,

exclaimed:

"No; I cannot do it. You have been so good to me; I cannot leave you of

my own will."

Herr von Zehren led me gently to the great chair, and paced several

times up and down the room, while I buried my head in my hands. Then he

stood before me and said:

"What did Granow say to you yesterday? Did he slander me to you as he

has slandered you to me? Did he warn you against me, as he has warned

me against you? No; do not answer; I do not want to know. It is

just as if I had been there and heard it all. Every one knows how

double-tongued old women talk."

"Then it is not true?" I exclaimed, starting from the chair.

"Certainly, certainly, it is not true; I never believed it. I did not

believe that miserable creature yesterday--not for one moment."

"And now only, for the first time?" said he, turning his piercing look

again upon me. But I did not again lower my eyes; I met his gaze

firmly, and calmly answered:

"I will not believe it until I hear it from your own lips."

"And if I confirm it, what then?"

"Then I will implore you to have nothing more to do with it. It cannot

end well, and it fills me with horror to think that it might end

terribly."

"You think," he said, and a bitter smile contracted his features, "that

it would not be a pleasant thing to read in the papers: 'To-day Malte

von Zehren of Zehrendorf was condemned to twenty years' hard labor, and

in pursuance of his sentence was conveyed to the penitentiary at S.,

the director of which, as is well known, is the brother of the

criminal?' Well, it would not be the first time that a Zehren was an

inmate of a prison."

He laughed, and began to speak with vehemence, sometimes pacing the

room, and then stopping before me.

"Not the first time. When I was young--it may now be thirty years ago,

or more--there stood in their cursed nest, in a waste place between the

town wall and the ramparts, an old half-rotten gallows, and on the

gallows were nailed two rusty iron plates, upon which there stood

half-defaced names, and one of these names was _Malte von Zehren_, with

the date 1436. I recognized it by the date; and one night, with the

friend of my youth, Hans von Trantow--the father of our Hans--I

wrenched it off, cut down the gallows, and pitched it over the rampart

into the fosse. Do you know how my ancestor's name came there? He had a

feud with the Peppersacks there in the town, and they had sworn, if

they caught him, to hang him on the gallows. And though he heard of it,

and knew that there would be no mercy for him, he slipped into the town

in disguise, during the carnival, for the love of a townsman's pretty

daughter. You see, my dear George, the women--they are at the bottom of

all mischief. And they caught him too, early next morning, as he was

stealing away, flung him into the dungeon, and the next day he was to

be hanged, to the delight of all the good townsfolk. But a page who

accompanied him, and who had escaped, carried the news to Hans von

Trantow, and Hans sent off a score of riders to all cousins and

kinsfolk over the whole island, and that night they crossed over in

twenty boats, two hundred of them, with Hans at their head, forced

their way into the town, broke into the dungeon and rescued my

ancestor, the good fellows, and then set the old nest on fire at its

four corners and burned it down. So as the townsmen had lost Malte von

Zehren, they contented themselves with nailing his name upon the

gallows.

"And what was the origin of the feud? The Sound-dues, which the Lords

of Zehren had levied for centuries, and which the Peppersacks now laid

claim to. By what right? I ask you now, by what right? At a time when

their pedlars' nest was a mere cluster of hovels inhabited by wretched

fishermen, the Zehrens were living as lords and masters in a

block-house surrounded by a rampart, as men used to do in the earliest

times; then in a castle of stone, with towers and battlements, and as

far as the eye can reach from up yonder over forests and coves into the

island, no hearth smoked in house or hut at which vassals and retainers

of the castle did not warm themselves; and as far as the eye can reach

from up there over the sea, no sail swelled and no pennon flew that did

not pay tribute to the castle. Do you think, young man, that things

like these can be forgotten? Do you suppose that I can learn to feel

myself under one law with a crew that crawled before my ancestors

in the dust? or to acknowledge any master over me? _By the grace of

God_--and what is that? Where were these fellows 'by the grace of God'

four or five hundred years ago? I could sit where they sit now, with

just as good a right; my escutcheon instead of theirs would flaunt on

every gate and guard-house, and in my name would tolls and taxes be

levied. And now 'sdeath! here I sit, a Lord Lack-all, in this box of

stone, which before long will fall in over my head, and not a foot of

the soil on which I tread can I call my own. See there--" he stepped

to the open window, and pointed out with a hand trembling with

emotion--"you once asked me why I did not turn those into money. There

are thousands upon thousands in the forest, and I answered that I had

not the heart to have the old trees hewn down. It was the truth; I

could not do it; and the only right that I have over them is that I can

keep them from being cut down as long as I live. Not a tree belongs to

me--not a sapling--not enough to serve for my coffin; every twig

belongs to that mountebank, your Cr[oe]sus, who calls himself

commerzienrath, and is well named Streber [Striver.] I see the

stockfish still, distorting his crooked mouth as he counted down the

pittance on the table and crammed the contract into his pocket. He

thought: 'It will not last him long, and then he will blow out his

brains.' It has not lasted long; and he may have been as correct in his

other anticipation.

"But I cannot imagine what talkative demon possesses me this morning; I

believe that I have been infected by that old washerwoman, Granow. Or

perhaps it is because I have to make up for yesterday evening. In

truth, George, I missed you exceedingly. Trantow, the good fellow,

brought me home out of pure compassion, because he saw what a trial it

would be to me to smoke my last cigar alone. And I tell you it cost me

dearly that you were not with me. It went hard with me, George,

terribly hard. Old hawk as I am, they plucked me until the feathers

flew; but we will pay them back this evening. We shall meet at

Trantow's, where I have always been lucky; but you are not to quit my

side. And now drink your coffee, and come down in half an hour; I have

a letter or two to write; the steuerrath wants to be once more

delivered from his thousand-and-one embarrassments; but this time I

cannot help him, at all events not today; he must wait awhile yet. In

half an hour then, and afterwards we will go down to the beach. I feel

a little feverish to-day, and the sea-breeze will do me good."

He went, and left me in a singular frame of mind. I felt as if he had

told me everything, and yet, when I thought it over, it was no more

than what he had often said to me before. I felt as if I had bound

myself to him body and soul, and yet he had taken no promise from me.

But this was just the thing which made me feel more than ever attached

to this singular man. If he was magnanimous enough not to take me with

him upon his ship, which he saw was driving to destruction, could I

stand calmly on the safe shore and watch him struggling and sinking in

the waves?

My youthful fancy kindled at his romantic story of the knight who had

been at feud with my native town. I wished that I had been there; I

fancied myself playing the part of the page who made his way out at

risk of his life to bring help and rescue to his beloved lord. Should

my thoughts be more mean, my actions more craven than those of that

boy? And were we not in similar circumstances? Was not my knight at the

last extremity? Had not the Peppersacks taken his all?--left him

nothing of all the heritage of his ancestors--him, that kingly man? How

he had stood before me, the tall noble form with flashing eyes, and

anguish imprinted in his pale, deeply-furrowed face with its flowing

beard. This man to have planned to sell his daughter! And a creature

like the commerzienrath should one day be lord here in his stead! The

creature with his close-shaven fox-face, his blinking, thievish eyes,

and his clumsy, greedy hands; the man who had foredoomed me to the

gallows. Yes, they had dealt with me no better than with my knight.

They had driven me out of the town, and now, thank heaven, I had a

right to hate them as I had always despised.

Thus my foolish brain was heated more and more. The charm of adventure,

the inward delight in this uncontrolled life, which I called liberty, a

monstrous confusion of the conceptions of right and duty, gratitude,

hot blood of youth, passionate first-love--all held me spell-bound in

this charmed circle, which was a world to me. All drew me with

irresistible force to the man who seemed to me the perfect ideal of a

knight and a hero, to the lovely maiden who so far exceeded my wildest

dreams. And the fact that these two, to whom I clung with equal love,

stood opposed to each other, only tended to confirm the dream of my own

indispensability. In their several ways, each had been equally kind to

me, had shown me equal confidence. The fulfilment of my most ardent

wish, that of seeing them reconciled, had never appeared so near as

this morning, when I paced my room and looked out of the windows at the

blue sky, in which great white motionless clouds were standing, and

upon the park whose majestic groups of trees and broad expanses of

grass were magically lighted by the splendor of the sun.

How could I have believed that these white clouds would so soon spread

into a sable pall and obscure that sun--that I had seen my paradise in

its magic radiance for the last time?

CHAPTER XII.

The confidence with which Herr von Zehren had looked forward to that

evening, which at the very least was to repair his former ill-fortune,

was after all a deceitful one. It may be that an incident which

occurred just previously, deprived him of that coolness which this

evening he more than ever needed. For on our way up from the beach,

where we had shot a brace of rabbits among the dunes, as crossing the

heath we drew near to Trantowitz, a cavalcade of ladies and gentlemen,

attended by a couple of liveried servants, came galloping by. My

attention was entirely attracted by a slender young man riding a superb

English horse, who, at the moment he passed me, was leaning over to one

of the ladies with a charming smile on his pale face, on which a downy

moustache just darkened the upper lip. The lady gave her horse a sudden

cut with the whip, and they shot on in advance. I gazed for a moment

after the company, and was turning to Herr von Zehren with the

question: "Who are they?" when I checked myself in surprise at the

change in his countenance. We had just been chatting pleasantly

together, and there now lay in his looks an expression of the blackest

wrath, and he had unslung his gun and half raised it to his shoulder,

as if he would send a shot after the retreating party. Then he flung it

hastily over his shoulder again, and walked a short distance silent at

my side, until he suddenly broke out into the most furious execrations,

which I had never before heard from him, though he could be angry

enough upon occasion. "The hound!" he exclaimed, "he dares to come here

upon the soil that belongs to my friend Trantow! And I stand quietly

here and do not drive a charge of shot through him! Do you know who

that was, George? The villain who will one day be lord of a hundred

manors which by right are all mine, whose ancestors were my ancestors'

vassals, and whose scoundrelly father came to me to tell me in my own

apartment that he desired to marry his son according to his rank, and

that he trusted we could come to some satisfactory arrangement. I

clutched him by his accursed throat, and would have strangled him if

others had not come between us. The thing has been gnawing at my heart

incessantly, ever since I heard that the villain was going about the

neighborhood here. And now you know why Constance and I are upon so

unfortunate a footing. Heaven knows what fancies she is nursing; and it

drives me mad to see that her thoughts still cling to the miscreant who

has offered her the grossest insult that man can offer to woman; who

has tarnished my ancestral escutcheon, and should fight me to the

death, but for----"

He checked himself suddenly, and walked silently by my side, gnawing

his lip. Not noticing the irregularities of the wretched road, he

stumbled once or twice, and this stumbling, combined with the

expression of his face, in which the wrinkles deepened to furrows

whenever he was under strong emotion, gave him the appearance of a

broken old man consumed by impotent anger. Never before had he appeared

so much in need of help, so worthy of compassion, and never before had

I pitied him so, or so yearned to assist him. At the same time I

thought that so favorable an opportunity to clear up the

misunderstanding that evidently existed between father and daughter in

reference to their relations with the prince, would not easily again

occur. So I plucked up a heart and asked:

"Does Fräulein Constance know how much she has been insulted?"

"How? What do you mean?" he asked in return.

I told him what I had been speaking of with Constance that morning; how

little suspicion she seemed to have of the outrage that had been

offered her; that on the contrary she had expressly told me that she

had been betrothed to the prince, that their predetermined union had

been prevented by Herr von Zehren's fault alone, and that she had

renounced freely and utterly all thought of the possibility of their

marriage. But the audacity with which he had attempted to approach her,

the correspondence which had taken place between them, I kept to

myself, feeling that this would only awaken anew the wrath of the Wild

Zehren, and render him deaf to all reason.

But it was all to no purpose. He listened to me with every sign of

impatience, and when I paused for breath in my eagerness, he broke out:

"Does she say that? What will she not say? And that too now, after I

have told her not once, but a hundred times, what was asked of me, how

my honor and my name were trampled in the mire! She will next

asseverate that the Emperor of China has been a suitor for her hand,

and that it is my fault that she is not now enthroned in Pekin! Why

not? _Turandot_ is as pretty a part as _Mary Stuart_. Prepare yourself

soon to see her in Chinese attire."

It was easy to perceive how little mirth lay in these mocking words,

and I did not venture to press further so painful a theme. We came,

besides, in a few minutes to Trantowitz, where Hans received us at the

door with his good-natured laugh, and led us into his living-room,

(which, besides his chamber, was the sole habitable apartment in the

great house,) where the other guests were assembled.

The evening passed like so many others. Play began before supper, and

was resumed after that meal, during which the bottle had circulated

freely. I had resolved not to play, and could the more easily keep this

resolution, as all the rest, with the exception of our host, whom

nothing could move from his accustomed equanimity, were entirely

absorbed by the unusually high play, and had not time to pay any

attention to me.

So there I sat, in the recess of a window, at a little distance from

the table, and watched the company, whose behavior now, when I was not

a participant in it, seemed strange enough. The fiery eyes in the

flushed faces; the silence only broken by the monotonous phrases of the

banker, or a hoarse laugh or muttered curse from the players; the

avidity with which they poured down the flasks of wine; the whole

scene wrapped in a gray cloud of cigar-smoke which grew denser every

moment;--it was far from a pleasant sight, and strange, confused,

painful thoughts whirled through my weary brain, as I sat watching the

fortunes of the play, and listening at intervals to the rustling of the

night-wind that bent the old poplars before the house, and drove a few

rain-drops against the windows. Suddenly I was aroused from a half doze

by a loud uproar that broke out among the players. They sprang from

their chairs and vociferated at each other with wild looks and

threatening gestures; but the tumult subsided as quickly as it had

arisen, and they sat again bending in silence over their cards, and

once more I listened to the wind in the poplars, and the dashing of the

rain against the panes, until at last I fell asleep.

A hand upon my shoulder aroused me. It was Herr von Zehren. The first

look at his pale face, from which his eyes were flashing wildly, told

me that he had been losing again, and he confirmed it as we walked back

the short distance to Zehrendorf through the black tempestuous night.

"It is all over with me," he said; "my old luck has abandoned me; the

sooner I blow out my brains the better. To be sure, I have a week yet.

Sylow, who is a good fellow, has given me so much time. In a week

perhaps all may be managed; only to-morrow the draft falls due, and of

course my brother cannot pay it. I must see about it, I must see about

it."

He spoke more to himself than to me. Suddenly he stopped, looked up at

the black lowering clouds, then walked on, muttering between his teeth:

"I knew it, I knew it, as soon as I saw the villain. It could not but

bring me ill-luck; his accursed face has always brought me misfortune.

And now to have to see how they quaff the foam from the beaker of life,

while they leave us the bitter dregs! And I cannot have revenge--cannot

take his life!"

We had reached a piece of woods near the house, which was really a

projecting corner of the forest, but was considered as part of the

park. The road here divided; the broader fork led along the edge of the

wood; and the narrower, which was only a foot-path, ran directly

through the trees. This was the nearer way, but also the rougher and

darker, and Herr von Zehren, who in his present ill-humor had more than

once grumbled at the darkness and the bad road, proposed that we should

not take our usual path through the park.

"I should like to find out," I said, "if the buck whose tracks we saw

day before yesterday, is belling in the south forest again. We cannot

hear it from here, but in there we ought to hear it."

"You go through, then," he said, "but do not stay too long."

"I expect I shall be at the other side before you."

It was not so dark in the woods as I had feared; at times the moon

shone pretty bright through the scudding clouds. I reproached myself

for leaving Herr von Zehren alone at this hour, and had thoughts of

turning back; but, impelled by the hunter's ardor, I pushed on, slowly

and cautiously, often stopping and listening, while I held my breath,

to see if I could catch any sound of the buck in the woods. Once I

thought I heard a faint bellow, but I was not quite sure. If so, it

must be very distant, and in a different quarter from where we expected

the buck to be at this hour. It might be another. I was anxious to find

out, and stood still again to listen. Suddenly I heard a noise behind

me like the trot of a horse coming along the path in which I was. My

heart stopped for an instant, and then began to beat violently. Who

could be the rider, in the dead of night, upon a path lying alongside

the main road to the castle?

The sound of the horse's hoofs, at first faint, had grown louder, and

then suddenly ceased. In its place I now distinctly heard the steps of

a man coming through the woods towards the place where I was standing,

a little out of the path, in the dark shadow of some high trees. It

could be no one but _he_. My heart, that was violently beating, cried

to me that it could be no one but he. I tore the gun from my shoulder,

as Herr von Zehren had done at the sight of the man he hated. Then, as

he had done, I threw it back over my shoulder, so that I had both arms

free. What did I need for such a fellow but those two arms of mine?

And just then I saw him plainly before me, as the moon slipped from

behind a black cloud, and threw through the trees a clear light exactly

upon the place where he was passing: the same slender form, and even in

the same riding-dress--a low-crowned hat, close-fitting coat, trimmed

with fur, and boots of soft leather reaching half-way up the thigh--one

bound, one clutch--I had him in my hands!

The surprise must have paralyzed him at the moment, for he uttered no

cry, and scarcely made a movement. But this was only for a moment, and

then with an exertion of strength for which I had not given him credit,

he strove to free himself from my grasp. So might a leopard, caught in

the hunter's net, struggle frantically, leap, rend with his claws, and

waste his strength in convulsive efforts. The struggle lasted perhaps a

minute, during which time no word was spoken on either side, nor was

any sound audible but our panting. At last his struggles grew weaker

and weaker, his breath began to fail, and finally, yielding, he panted:

"Let me go!"

"Not so soon!"

"In my breast pocket is a pocket-book, with probably a hundred

_thalers_ in it; take them, but let me go!"

"Not for a million!" I said, forcing him, as his strength was utterly

exhausted, down to his knees.

"What do you want? Do you mean to murder me?" he panted.

"Only to give you a lesson," I said, and picked up his riding-whip,

which had fallen while we were struggling, the silver handle of which

caught my eye as it glittered in the moonlight.

"For God's sake, do not do that," he said, grasping convulsively the

hand in which I held the whip. "Kill me on the spot; I will not move

nor utter a cry; but do not strike me!"

Such a request in such a tone could not fail to make a powerful

impression upon a heart like mine. I no longer beheld in my antagonist

the enemy of the Wild Zehren his daughter's lover. I saw in him only a

boy who was in my power, and who would rather die than undergo

disgrace. Involuntarily the hand with which I grasped him by the breast

unclosed; indeed I believe I lifted him to his feet.

Scarcely did he feel himself free, when he hastily stepped back a few

paces, and in a tone the lightness of which was in strong contrast with

the terror he had first felt, said:

"If you were a nobleman, you should give me satisfaction; but as you

are not, I warn you to be on your guard: I do not always travel without

arms."

He slightly touched his hat, turned upon his heel, and walked back by

the way he had come.

I stood as if rooted to the spot, and gazed after the slender figure,

which soon vanished in the dark shadows of the forest. I knew that with

a bound or two I could overtake him, but I felt not the slightest

impulse to attempt it. The young prince had rightly judged the young

plebeian. I would as lief have hewn off my hand as to raise it again

against a man whom I had in a manner pardoned. And then I thought of

what Granow had said, that were he the prince, he would not like to

meet Herr von Zehren, and how very nearly this meeting had taken place,

and that too at a moment when it would have given the Wild Zehren

delight to shed his enemy's blood, and his own afterwards.

And now I heard a slight neigh, and then the gallop of a horse.

"Thank heaven!" I cried, drawing a deep breath, "it is better so, and

it will be a lesson to him."

I thought no more of the buck. I scarcely listened when he began to

bellow, at no great distance from me. I hurried on at a run to make up

for the time I had lost, and in deep anxiety lest Herr von Zehren

should have heard the gallop of the horse, for it was not possible that

he could have heard anything that had happened in the wood.

But my anxiety was without cause. The Wild Zehren was too safely

plunged in reflections over his misfortune for his senses to be as

acute as they usually were. He did not even ask me about the buck; and

I was glad that I was under no necessity of speaking. Thus we walked

silently on until we reached the castle.

In the hall we were met as usual by the sleepless old Christian.

Letters had come by express: he had laid them on his master's

writing-table.

"Come in," said Herr von Zehren, "while I see what they are about."

We entered. "This one is for you, and so is this," he said, handing me

two of the letters from the table.

The first letter was from my friend Arthur. It read:

"You have not sent me the money I asked you for; but that is the way:

when we have anything, our friends may look out for themselves. I only

write to you now, in order through you to entreat my uncle to do

something to help papa. Our affairs must be in an awful state, for the

merchant G.--you know whom I mean--from whom I borrowed twenty-five,

saw papa about it to-day, and I did not get the smallest scolding.

Mamma howls all day long. I wish I was a thousand miles away.

"P. S.--Papa has just come from Uncle Commerzienrath with a terribly

long face. It is plain that the old Philistine will do nothing for us.

I tell you Uncle Malte must help us, for we are in a terrible strait."

The second letter was from my father.

"My Son:--In renouncing your filial obedience to me, you compelled me

to abandon all control over you. I have vowed not to restore you to

your place as my son, until you acknowledge your misconduct and entreat

me to do so; and this vow I will keep. To the choice that you have made

for yourself, I have offered no opposition, have allowed you perfect

freedom of action, for which you have always hankered, and am resolved

to do this for the future. But all this cannot prevent me from wishing,

with all my heart, that it may be well with you in the path that you

have chosen for yourself, though I doubt it much; nor can it keep me

from warning you where warning seems necessary. And this is now the

case. Things have reached my ears concerning Herr von Zehren, which I

trust in heaven may be founded upon error, but which are of such a

nature that I think with horror of my son being in the house of a man

under such suspicions, even if false. What I have heard I cannot reveal

to you, as the information has reached me in the line of my official

duties.

"I know that notwithstanding your disobedience, you are incapable of a

base action, and that therefore you are so far safe, even if those

suspicions are true, which God forbid. Still I entreat you, if you have

any regard left for my peace, to leave the house of Herr von Zehren at

once. I add what is scarcely necessary, that for the obedient son I

shall be, what I have always been, his strict but just father."

I had read this letter twice through, and sat still gazing at the

writing, incapable of clear reflection, when Herr von Zehren aroused me

by asking: "Well, George, and what have you there?" I handed him both

letters. He read them, paced the room a while, and then stopping before

me said:

"And what do you propose to do?"

"The opportunity is a good one," he went on, seeing that I hesitated to

answer. "I have a letter from the steuerrath which compels me to start

for the town within the hour. I will take you with me; it is now twelve

o'clock, and in three hours we can be there; you can ring up the old

gentleman; sleep an hour or two in the garret of which you have so

often told me; thank God to-morrow morning that you are clear of the

Wild Zehren, and--go back again to school."

He spoke the last words with a slight contempt, which galled the most

sensitive part in the heart of a young man, that of false pride.

"I will go with you wherever you go!" I exclaimed, starting up. "I said

so this morning, and I now repeat it. Tell me what I shall do."

Herr von Zehren again paced the room for a few moments, and then paused

before me and said in an agitated voice:

"Remain here--for a day or two at all events, until I return. You will

do me a service."

I looked at him interrogatively.

"If you return now to-day," he continued, "that will only have the

effect of confirming the rumors of which your father writes. The rats

are leaving the house, they will say, and justly. And just now it is of

importance to me that people shall say nothing, that as little

attention as possible shall be directed to me. Do you understand,

George?"

"No," I answered; "why now especially?"

I looked fixedly at him; he bore the scrutiny, and after a while

answered, speaking slowly and in a low voice:

"Ask no further, George. Perhaps I would tell you if you could help me;

perhaps I would not. They say of me that I use men and then throw them

away when they can be of no further service to me. It may be so; I do

not know that the most deserve any better treatment. With you, at all

events, I would not thus deal, for I like you. And now go to bed, and

let the Wild Zehren play out the game. Perhaps he will break the bank,

and then I promise you it will be the last of his playing."

At this moment the wagon drove up; while reading my father's letter, I

had not heard the order to old Christian to have the horses put to.

Herr von Zehren looked through his papers, put some in his pocket, and

locked others in his cabinet. Then old Christian helped him on with his

furred cloak, he put on his hat, and stepping up to me, offered me his

hand.

I had watched all his movements in a sort of stupefaction.

"And I cannot help you?" I now asked.

"No," he replied, "or only by waiting quietly here until I return. Your

hand is cold as ice; go to bed."

I accompanied him to the door. His hunting-wagon was waiting, and long

Jock, who usually filled the office of coachman, was on the front seat.

"The wagon will only take me to the ferry, and then return," said Herr

von Zehren.

"And Jock?" I asked in a whisper.

"Goes with me."

"Take me in his place," I asked, imploringly.

"It cannot be," he said, with his foot upon the step.

"I entreat you," I urged, holding him by the cloak.

"It cannot be," he repeated. "We have not a minute to spare.

Good-night! Drive on!"

The wagon drove off; the dogs yelped and barked, and then all was still

again. Old Christian hobbled across the yard with his lantern, and

vanished into one of the old buildings. I stood alone before the house,

under the trees, in which the wind roared. The rain began to fall in

torrents; shivering I returned to the house and carefully secured the

door.

The light was still burning in Herr von Zehren's room. I went to get it

and also my letters that were lying upon his table. As I took them I

espied a paper on the floor, and picked it up to see what it was. A few

words were written upon it, and I had read them before I thought what I

was doing. The words were these:

"I am ruined if you do not save me. G. will give me no more time; St.

is immovable; the draft will be protested. I put myself in your hands.

You have held me above water too long to let me drown now. The moment,

too, is as favorable as possible for the matter you know of. I can and

will take care that no one sees our cards. But whatever is done, must

be done at once. I have not always the game in my hand. Come at once, I

adjure you, by what is most sacred to you--by our ancient name! Burn

this at once."

The paper was not signed, but I recognized the writing immediately. I

had seen it often enough in the documents on my father's table, and I

could at once have affixed the signature with its pretentious flourish,

which I had often enough tried to imitate.

This paper Herr von Zehren must have dropped while hastily thrusting it

with the others into his pocket.

I looked at it again, and was once more trying to unriddle its

enigmatical contents, when the candle, already burned to the socket,

gave signs of going out. "Burn this at once!"--it was as if a voice had

uttered this command close to my ear. I held the paper in the flame; it

blazed up; the candle went out at the same moment; a glowing scrap of

tinder fluttered to my feet, and then all around me was thickest

darkness.

I groped my way from the room, through the dining-room to the hall, up

the narrow stairway to my chamber, and after searching in vain for a

match, threw myself dressed upon my bed.

But in vain did I, tossing restlessly upon my couch, endeavor to sleep.

Every moment I started up in terror, fancying in my excitement that I

heard a voice calling for help, or a step hurrying towards my door,

while I kept racking my brain in the vain attempt to devise some plan

for rescuing the two so dear to me from the ruin which I had a

presentiment was impending over them, whose coming the elements

themselves seemed to announce in thunder; and execrated my cowardice,

my indecision, my helplessness.

It was a fearful night.

A terrible storm had arisen; the wind raved about the old pile, which

shook to its foundations. The tiles came clattering down from the

roofs; the rusted weather-cocks groaned and creaked; the shutters

banged, and the third shutter to the right made frantic efforts now or

never to get loose from the single hinge by which it had hung for

years. The screech-owls in the crevices of the walls hooted dismally,

and the dogs howled, while the gusts of wind dashed torrents of rain

against the windows.

It seemed as if the ancient mansion of Zehrendorf knew what fate was

awaiting its possessor and itself.

CHAPTER XIII.

My first sensation, as I awaked late, was a feeling of thankfulness

that it was day; my second was one of shame at having been so

powerfully affected by the terrors of the night. When but a small boy,

I used to think that I cast the most odious reproach upon an adversary

when I termed him a coward, and this morning I felt that the same

stigma might be justly affixed to myself. But that comes, I said to

myself while dressing, from not looking things in the face and telling

people the truth. Why did I not frankly say to Herr von Zehren, I know

the object of your journey? He would then have taken me with him, and I

should not have to sit here like a child that is kept in the house when

it rains.

I opened a window and looked out, in a gloomy frame of mind, and the

scene that met my eyes was far from cheerful. The wind, which blew from

the west, drove swirling masses of gray mist through the gigantic

trees, which tossed their mighty arms about, as if in torment, above

the wide lawn which had so often charmed me with its long waving grass,

and which now was a mere morass. A flock of crows flew up with harsh

cawings into the stormy air, which hurled them about at its pleasure.

At this moment the wind flung to a shutter with so much violence that

fragments of the rotten wood flew about my head. I tore away from the

hinge what was left of it, and threw it down. "I'll not be troubled by

you tonight, at all events," I said, fastening the window again, and

then I determined to take the rest in hand. Leaving my own room, I made

the round of the upper story. As I opened the door of the room where

the pile of books lay, a dozen rats sprang down from the window-sills

and dived into their hiding-places. The rain had driven in through some

broken panes, and the gray rascals had been enjoying the welcome

refreshment. "You have not quitted the house yet, it seems," I said,

recalling Herr von Zehren's words; "should I be more cowardly than you,

you thievish crew?"

I climbed over the pile of books to the nearest door, and wandered

through the empty rooms, securing all the shutters that had any

fastenings left, and lifting from their hinges and throwing down those

that were past securing. The one belonging to the third window, which

had been the principal object of my expedition, had terminated its

afflicted existence in the night.

On my way back I entered the hall with the great staircase, where in

the dim light that fell through the dull panes covered with dust and

cobwebs, it looked more ghostly than ever. A suit of armor which was

fastened to the wall at some height from the floor, it required no

great stretch of fancy to turn into the corpse of a hanged man. I

wondered if it was the armor of that Malte von Zehren whose name, in

default of himself, the honest burghers of my native town had affixed

to their gallows.

I do not know what put it into my head to descend the staircase and

wander about the narrow passages of the lower story. My footsteps

sounded eerily hollow in the vacant corridors; and the chilly damp from

the bare walls, like those of a vault, seemed to strike doubly cold to

my feverish frame. Perhaps I had an idea of punishing myself for my

terrors of the past night, and of demonstrating to myself the

childishness of my apprehensions. Still it was not without a start and

a decidedly uncomfortable feeling that I suddenly came upon an opening

in the wall at a spot which I had often before passed without

perceiving any sign of a door, through which opening I caught sight of

a yawning black chasm, at the bottom of which a faint glimmer of light

was perceptible. Peering more closely into it, I could make out the

commencement of a flight of steps. Without a moment's hesitation I

began, at peril of my neck, to descend a narrow and very steep stair,

slowly groping my way with both hands touching the wall on each side of

me, until the faint glimmer at the bottom suddenly disappeared. As I

reached the floor of the cellar it became visible again, but not now an

uncertain glimmer, but a distinct light moving about a short distance

from me, and apparently proceeding from a lantern in the hand of a man

who was exploring the cellar. As I moved faster than the man, whose

shuffling footsteps probably covered the sound of mine, I speedily

overtook him, and laid my hand upon the shoulder of--old Christian, for

he it was. He stopped with a half cry, luckily without dropping his

lantern, and looked round at me with the utmost terror in his old

wrinkled face.

"What are you doing here. Christian?" I asked.

He still stared at me in silence. "You need not be afraid of me," I

said: "you know I am your friend."

"It is not for myself," the old man answered at last. "I dare not bring

any one down here; he would kill me."

"You did not bring me down here," I said.

Christian, whose feeble old limbs were yet trembling from his first

fright, now sat down upon a chest, and placed the lantern by him. While

he was recovering himself, I took a survey of the cellar. It had a low

vaulted ceiling, supported at various points by strong columns, and was

evidently of considerable extent, though how considerable I could not

determine, as the extremities were lost in darkness.

Against one of these columns not far off stood a desk with a great

lantern over it, and on the desk lay a large thick book, like a

merchant's "blotter." Near this were chests of tea, with Chinese

figures marked on them--evidently original packages--piled up to a

great height, and everywhere that I looked were empty boxes and casks,

piled in a certain business-like order. Many a year must have passed

ere all these boxes were emptied and all these casks drained; many a

dollar must have been lost and won in the process, and many a human

life must have been risked, and probably lost too. At that time not a

year passed that the smuggling in this region by land and water did not

cost more than one life; and how many did it cost whose loss was not

known? Peter, for instance, who was shot by the coastguard in the

woods, and dragged himself, mortally wounded, to his hut; or Claas,

who, flying hastily across the morass, missed his footing and sank;

whose kindred found it prudent to say as little about the matter as

possible.

Many things of this sort I had heard from my father and his colleagues,

and they recurred to my mind as I looked around this vast cellar, which

wore in the pale light from the old man's lantern much the appearance

of a gigantic church-vault, in which mouldering coffins that had done

their service were piled up around, and the damp chilly vapor in which

might be fancied to proceed from fresh graves dug in lightless space

beyond the columns.

This then was the foundation of the house of the Von Zehrens. That

high-born race had dwelt over this vault, and lived upon these heaps of

decay. No wonder the fields lay fallow, and the barns were tumbling to

ruin. Here was the sowing and the harvest--an evil sowing, which could

bring no other than an evil harvest.

I will not maintain that precisely these thoughts passed through my

mind in precisely this order, while I stood by the old man and let my

gaze wander through the recesses of the cellar. I only know that my old

feeling of horror for that traffic into whose secret adyta I had

penetrated, returned upon me with full force, and with the clearly

defined sensation that I now pertained to it and was one of the

initiated, and that it was foolish and to a certain extent offensive in

the old man to wish to make any secret to me of matters and relations

which I so thoroughly fathomed and so well understood.

"Well, Christian," said I, taking a seat opposite the old man, and

lighting a cigar at his lantern as a mark of my perfect composure,

"what will we get this time?"

"Tea or silk," muttered he; "if it were wine, brandy, or salt, he would

have ordered the wagons."

"To be sure, he would then have ordered the wagons," I repeated, as if

this were a mere matter of course. "And when do you expect him back? He

told me to-night that he could not possibly determine."

"Most likely to-morrow; but I will open the great door anyhow, as we

cannot be certain."

"Of course we cannot be certain," I said. The old man had arisen and

taken up his lantern, and I arose also.

We kept on, and came into another space filled with the scent of wine,

where casks were piled on casks, as the old man showed me by holding up

his lantern as high as he could reach.

"This all lies here from last year," he said.

"Yes," I answered, repeating what Granow had said; "the business is bad

just now; the people in Uselin have grown shy since so many have taken

to dabbling in it."

The old man, who was taciturnity itself, did not answer, but it seemed

that I had attained my aim of gaining his confidence. He nodded and

muttered an assent to my words, as he shuffled along.

The cellar seemed to have no end; but at last Christian stopped and

placed the lantern upon the ground. Before us was a broad staircase,

above which was an apparatus of strong beams, such as is used for

lowering casks and heavy boxes. The staircase was closed above by a

large and massive trap-door, covered with plates of iron, and secured

by immense bolts. These the old man pushed back with my help.

"So," said he, "now they can come whenever they please.

"Whenever they please," I repeated.

We returned silently by the way we had come, and ascended the steep

stair at the entrance. The old man pressed a spring, and the opening in

the wall was closed by a sliding door which was fitted so artistically,

and was so exactly of the same tint of dirty gray, that none but one of

the initiated could have discovered its existence, to say nothing of

opening it.

Old Christian extinguished his lantern, and went before me to the end

of the corridor, after which we separated in the smaller court-yard. He

passed through a small gate into the main court; I remained behind and

looked cautiously around to see if any one was observing me; but there

were only the crows, who, perched upon one of the low roofs, with heads

on one side, were scrutinizing all my movements. This little court had

looked poorly enough in the sunshine, but now in the rain its

appearance was inexpressibly forlorn. The buildings huddled together as

if trying to shelter themselves as well as they could from the wind and

the rain, and yet seemed every moment in danger of tumbling down from

sheer dilapidation. Who would look here for the entrance to the secret

cellar? And yet here somewhere it must be. I had noticed the direction

and extent of the subterranean space, for I wanted to know all, since I

already knew so much. I wished to be no longer kept in the dark as to

what was going on around me.

My conclusion was verified: in the miserable old servant's kitchen,

from which a wide door led to the inclosed space with the heaps of

refuse, under a pile of old barrels, boards, half-rotten straw, heaped

together, as I now perceived, with a careful imitation of carelessness,

I detected the same trap-door which the old man had bolted in the

cellar. Here upon the outside it was secured with a massive iron bar,

and a lock, the key of which doubtless Herr von Zehren carried about

him. I replaced the rubbish, and stole away as furtively as a thief,

for the proverb says truly that "the concealer is as bad as the

stealer," not only before the law, but even more surely before his own

conscience.

I turned into the park and strolled about the walks. A heavy drizzle

was still falling, but the fog had lifted a little, and was rolling

away in heavy gray masses over the tops of the trees. I stood at the

stone table under the maple whose spreading boughs afforded me some

shelter, and gazed steadfastly at the great melancholy house, that

to-day, since it had disclosed to me its secret, wore quite another

look in my eyes. Could she know what I now knew? Impossible! It was a

thought not to be harbored for a moment. But she must learn it as soon

as possible--or no! she must rather leave this place, where ruin was

threatening her. Away--but whither? to whom? with whom? What a

wretched, pitiful creature was I, who could offer her nothing but this

heart that beat for her, these arms which were strong enough to bear

her away as easily as a child, and with which I could do nothing but

fold them over my breast in impotent despair. Happen what might, she

must, must be saved. Her father might sacrifice me to his vengeance,

but she must escape free!

Some one came from the terrace--it was old Pahlen. She appeared to be

looking for me, for she beckoned to me from a distance with her bony

hands, while her gray hair, flying loose in the wind from under her

dirty cap, would have given her to any one else the appearance of the

witch that had brewed the bad weather. But to me she was a most welcome

apparition, for from whom could she come but from _her_? I ran to meet

her, and scarcely gave her time to deliver her message. A few moments

later, with a heart beating high, I entered Constance's apartment

through the casement-door.

It was the first, and was to be the last time that I entered it, and I

can scarcely give an accurate description of its appearance. I have

only a very dim recollection of large-leaved plants, an open piano,

music, books, articles of dress, all scattered about, of two or three

portraits on the walls, and that the entire floor was covered with a

carpet. This last feature particularly struck me. Carpets covering an

entire room were a rarity at that time, especially in the good town of

Uselin. I had only heard of such luxury by report, and I hardly knew

where to place my foot, although the carpet, I believe, was extremely

threadbare, and in places even torn and worn into holes.

But these, as I have said, are but dim recollections, from which stands

out, clearly and ineffaceably, the picture of Constance. She sat upon a

divan near the window, and at my entrance dropped a piece of embroidery

into her lap, at the same time extending her hand with her peculiar

sweet melancholy smile.

"You are not angry that I sent for you?" she asked, motioning me to

take my place by her side--thereby placing me in no slight

embarrassment, for the divan was low, and my boots not as clean as a

young man could wish who is for the first time received in a carpeted

chamber by the lady of his heart. "I wished to make a request of you.

Pahlen, you can go; I have something to speak of with Herr George

alone."

The old woman gave me one of her suspicious looks, lingered, and only

went after Constance had repeated her order in a sharper tone.

"See, this is the reason I sent for you," Constance began, with a

gesture of the hand towards the door by which the old woman had

departed. "I know how good you are, and how true a friend to me; since

yesterday I have new proof of it, though for a while I was weak enough

to hold you no better than the others. But these others! They do not

know, and cannot, and must not know. Such treasures must be kept

secret; they are too precious for the coarse world. Do you not think

so?"

As I had no idea on what it was that she desired my opinion, I

contented myself with fixing my eyes upon her with a look of respectful

inquiry. She dropped her eyes again to her work, and continued in a

voice not quite so steady: "My father has gone away, I am told; do you

know whither, and for how long a time? But even if he had told you, it

would make no difference; my father is not accustomed to bind himself

by any such announcements. He will go for a stay of three weeks and be

back in three days; he will start to be gone three days, and I will

look for him in vain for as many weeks. There is no probability that he

will this time make any exception to his rule; and whether he really

makes a long or short stay, we must take measures accordingly. It is

not cheerful to be all alone in this desolate and comfortless house,

especially when there is such a terrible storm as there was last night.

It is so pleasant to know that there is some one near at hand in whose

faith and strong arm--they say you are so very strong, George--we can

always trust; but still, so it must be. You feel that as well as I do,

do you not, George?"

This time I knew what she meant: I must go away from here, must leave

her alone, just now, at the very time when I was tormenting myself to

devise some plan to get her away; at the very time when my mind, not

yet recovered from the effects of the terrible night and the adventures

of the morning, was filled with a gloomy presentiment that calamity was

impending over both the house and its inhabitants. I neither knew how

nor what to answer, and looked at Constance in helpless confusion.

"You think it very unfriendly, very inhospitable of me," she said,

after a pause, as if awaiting my answer; "it would be both more

hospitable and more friendly if I myself went away for the time to

visit some female friend; and I admit that any other lady would do so;

but I am so poor as to have no female friend. My father has taken good

care of that. So long as you have been here, has a solitary lady

entered this house? Have you ever heard me speak of a friend, of an

acquaintance of my own sex? 'Constance von Zehren only associates with

men;' that is the way I am spoken of; but heaven knows how entirely

without fault of mine. Do you wish, my good faithful George, to give

evil tongues the opportunity to make my reputation worse than it

already is? Or do you think, with the others, that it cannot be worse?

No; sit still. Why should not friends, as we are, speak calmly of such

things, and calmly consider what is to be done on such an occasion?

Now, what I have thought, is this: You have friends. There is Herr von

Granow, who regularly pays court to you; there is Herr von Trantow, our

good neighbor, who would be so glad to have you with him for a few

days. And then you are quite near me; I can send for you if I want you;

and you know that if ever I need a friend I will turn to no one sooner

that to the only friend I have."

She offered me her hand with an enchanting smile, as if to say: "So

that matter is settled, is it not?"

Her smile and the touch of her dear hand completed the confusion into

which her words had thrown me; but I collected myself with a desperate

effort and stammered:

"I do not know what you will think of me for allowing you to speak so

long on a subject which of course I could not but understand at once;

but I cannot tell you how hard it is for me just now to go away from

you--to leave you just now. Herr von Zehern expressly charged me to

remain here and wait his return, which would happen in a few days,

perhaps to-morrow. He no doubt did that--even though he did not say as

much--with the best intentions; that you might have some one near you,

and might not be left alone in the desolate old house; that----"

I did not know how to continue, Constance fixed her eyes upon me with

so peculiar an expression, and my talent for fiction having always been

of the poorest.

"My father has never shown this tender consideration before," she said.

"Perhaps he thinks that the older I grow, the more I need watching. You

understand me. Or can you have forgotten our discourse of yesterday?"

"I have not forgotten it," I cried, springing hastily from the divan.

"I will not again become an object of your suspicion. I now leave you,

and forever, if you wish it; but others who are assuredly no worthier

than I, shall not enjoy an advantage over me; and if they still venture

to thrust themselves into your neighborhood, or lurk around like a fox

around a dove-cot, they do it at their own peril. I shall not be so

considerate as I was that evening."

"What do you mean? Of whom are you speaking?" exclaimed Constance, who

had also arisen at my last words. She had turned quite pale, and her

features had assumed a new expression.

"Of whom am I speaking?" I said; "of him who, on that evening when I

kept watch at your window, ran from me like a craven; and who last

night, as I was coming with your father from Trantowitz, and took the

way through the woods alone, tried to conceal himself under the trees;

whom I spared out of pity, for I knew that had I betrayed the pitiful

wretch, Herr von Zehren would have shot him dead like a dog. Let him

take care I do not meet him again in the night or by day either: he

will see how much I respect his princeship!"

Constance had turned away while I thus gave vent in anger to the

despair I felt at leaving the beloved maiden forever. Suddenly she

turned her pale face again upon me, with eyes flashing with a strange

light, and exclaimed, holding out her hands as if in supplication:

"That I should hear this from you!--from you! How can I help it if that

man--supposing you were not mistaken, which yet is quite possible--is

driven restlessly about by his evil conscience? It is unhappy enough

for him, if it be so; but how does that concern me? And how can any

danger from that quarter threaten me? And were he now--or at any time

and anywhere--to come before me, what would I, what could I say, but

'We can be nothing to each other, you and I, now nor at any future

time.' I thought, George, you knew all this without my telling you. How

can I wonder that the others so misjudge me, when your judgment of me

is so false, so cruelly false?"

She resumed her seat upon the divan and buried her face in her hands. I

lost all control of myself, paced the room in agitation, and finally,

seeing her bosom heaving with her emotion, threw myself in despair at

her feet.

"My dear, good George," she said, laying her hands on my shoulders. "I

know well that you love me; and I, too, am very fond of you."

The tears rolled down my cheeks. I hid my face in her dress, and

covered her hands with kisses.

"Stand up, George," she whispered, "I hear old Pahlen coming."

I sprang up. In truth the door opened slowly--I think it had never been

entirely closed--and the ugly old woman looked in and asked if she had

been called.

Yes, she had been called. Herr George, who was going to visit Herr von

Trantow for a day or two, had probably some orders to give.

"Farewell," she said, turning to me, "farewell, then, for a few days."

And then bringing her face nearer to mine, and sending me a kiss by the

movement of her lips, she softly whispered, "Farewell, beloved."

I was standing outside the house; the rain, that had re-commenced, was

beating into my burning face; I did not feel it. Rain and storm,

driving clouds and roaring trees, how lovely it all was! How could it

be possible that the world should be so fair--that mortal could be so

happy that she loved me!

When I reached my own room, I gave vent to my rapture in a thousand

idiotic ways. I danced and sang, I threw myself into the old

high-backed chair and wept, then sprang up again, and at last

remembered that I had all that I should need for a stay of but a day or

two, ready packed in my game-bag, and that she would expect that her

orders would be promptly obeyed. Yes; now--now I was ready to go.

And throwing my gun over my shoulder, and calling my dog Caro, who lay

moping under the table, I left the castle.

CHAPTER XIV.

Striding along the road to Trantowitz, under the rustling willows,

scarcely seeing the way before me in my excitement, I several times

barely escaped falling from the slippery path into the deep ditch in

which the rain-water was now running in a torrent. More than once I

stopped to look back to the castle where she was. Caro, who was moodily

trotting after me, also stopped on these occasions and looked at me. I

told him that she loved me, that we were all going to be happy, that

all would turn out well, and that when I was a great man I would lead a

joyous life, and would take good care of him as long as he lived. Caro

gave me to understand, by a slight wag of his tail, that he was fully

satisfied of my good intentions, and even to a certain extent moved;

but his brown eyes looked very melancholy, as if on so dismal a day he

could not form a very clear picture of a joyous future. "You are a

stupid brute, Caro," I said; "a good, stupid brute; and you have no

notion of what has happened to me." Caro made a desperate attempt to

look at the matter from its brightest side, wagging his tail more

violently, and showing his white teeth; then suddenly, as if to show

that his well-trained mind, usually occupied with hunting matters

alone, felt this to be a day when all discipline was relaxed, ran,

furiously barking, at a man who was just approaching around a

plantation of willows on the left of the road.

It was a man who had partly the appearance of a sailor, and partly that

of a working-man of the town, and whose innocent broad face beamed with

so friendly a smile as he caught sight of me, that Caro became at once

conscious of the impropriety of his behavior, and came to heel ashamed,

with drooping ears, while I, who had recognized the traveller, hastened

towards him with extended hand.

"Why, Klaus, what in the name of wonder brings you here?"

"Yes, I thought I should surprise you," answered Klaus, giving me a

cordial grasp of his great hard hand, and showing, as Caro had before

done, two rows of teeth which rivalled the dog's in whiteness.

"Were you coming to see me?" I asked.

"Of course I was coming to see you," Klaus answered. "I arrived in the

cutter an hour ago. Christel is with me. Our old grandmother is dead;

we buried her yesterday morning. She has gone to a better place, I

hope. She was a good old woman, although she had grown very infirm of

late, and gave poor Christel a great deal of trouble. But that is all

over now. What I was going to say is this: my father has been so good

as to bring me over here himself, and Christel is with me too; she has

come with me to Zanowitz to take leave of Aunt Julchen [Julie],

father's sister, you know. My father is from Zanowitz, you know."

"To be sure," I said.

"You have been there once or twice yourself," Klaus went on. "Aunt

Julchen always saw you, but you never took notice of her. I suppose you

did not recollect her; she used often to come to my father's. And then

you have become such a great man now"--and the honest fellow's admiring

looks wandered over my hunting-dress, my high boots, and Caro, who

pretended not to hear a word of this conversation, and with pricked-up

ears was staring into the ditch as if he had never seen a water-rat

dart into its hole before in all the days of his life.

"Never mind about that, Klaus," I said, shifting the sling of my gun a

little higher on the shoulder. "So you are going away? And where are

you going, then?"

"I have got a place as locksmith in the machine-shops of the Herr

Commerzienrath at Berlin," said Klaus. "Herr Schultz, the engineer on

the _Penguin_, you know, has given me a first-rate recommendation, and

I hope to do no discredit to it."

"That I am sure you will not," I said in a cordial, friendly, but

rather patronizing tone, while I considered with some embarrassment

what I should do. Here was Klaus had come to see me, and I could not

keep him standing in the open road, under the dripping willow. How the

good fellow would have stared if I had taken him into my poetical

room!--but that was not possible now. My embarrassment was increasing,

and it was a great relief when Klaus, taking both my hands, said:

"And now, good-by; I must go back to Zanowitz. Karl Peters, who has

been loading corn for the Herr Commerzienrath, sails in half an hour,

and takes me with him. I would have liked to stay a little while with

you, but you have something else on hand, and so I will not keep you

any longer."

"I have nothing whatever on hand, Klaus," I answered, "and if you have

no objection I will go with you to Zanowitz, and take the opportunity

to say good-day to Christel. When is the wedding to be, Klaus?"

Klaus shook his head as we walked on together. "The prospect is but a

poor one," he said. "We are too young yet, the old man thinks, although

the proverb says: 'Early wooed was never rued.' Don't you think so?"

"Decidedly I do!" I cried, with an earnestness that extremely delighted

Klaus; "I am two years younger than you, I believe, but I can tell you

this: I would marry, if I could, upon the spot; but it all depends upon

the circumstances, Klaus, upon the circumstances."

"Yes, of course;" answered he, with a sigh; "I could very well support

her now, for I shall work upon a fixed contract, and can do well if I

please, and Christel would not sit with her hands in her lap; but what

good is all that if the old man will not consent? He is Christel's

guardian, and she owes him everything, even her life, for she would

have perished miserably on the beach, poor little creature, had father

not sent mother down to the strand to gather drift-wood, and had mother

not found her there and brought her home. And you see all this has to

be taken into account; and although he is not at all kind to her, and I

cannot tell why he has treated me so badly all these years, yet still

it is written: Honor thy father and thy mother. And as I have no mother

any more, I must honor my father doubly. Don't you think so?"

I did not answer him this time. In my coat-pocket lay the letter of my

father, in which he commanded me to leave Herr von Zehren at once and

return home. I had not obeyed his orders, because I could not leave

until Herr von Zehren's return; but now I could go--oh yes, I could go

now! I cast a glance back at the castle, which loomed darkly through

its dark masses of trees, over the heath, and sighed deeply.

Klaus crossed the wet road to my side, and said to me in a low

mysterious tone, although over the whole heath, as far as the eye could

reach, there was no human being in sight:

"I beg your pardon; I did not mean to hurt your feelings."

"That I am sure of, Klaus," I answered.

"For you see," he continued, "I know that you and your father are not

on good terms, but he is such an excellent man, that he certainly

wishes no harm to any human creature, and least of all to his own son;

and as for what people say about you, that you are leading so wild a

life here, and--and--I don't believe a word of it. I know you better.

Oh yes, you might be a little wild, of course, you always were that;

but wicked? God forbid! I would sooner believe them if they said I was

wicked myself."

"Do they say that of me?" I asked, contemptuously. "And who says so,

then?"

Klaus took off his cap, and rubbed his sleek hair.

"That is hard to say," he answered, with some hesitation. "If I must

tell you honestly, they all say so, my Christel of course excepted, who

is your fast friend; but the rest don't leave a good hair on your

head."

"Out with it," I said; "I don't care for it, so let us hear it all."

"Well, I can't tell you," answered Klaus.

It was some time before I could get it out of the good fellow. It was

quite terrible for him to be compelled to admit that in my native town,

where everybody knew everybody else, and took the greatest interest in

his fortunes, I was unanimously considered a castaway. The firemen on

board the _Penguin_ had spoken of it, and the old pensioned-off

captains leaning over the parapet of the pier, and meditatively chewing

their quids, talked the matter over. Wherever Klaus, whom all knew to

be a great friend of mine, came, everybody asked him if he had not

heard what had become of George Hartwig, how he was going about in the

very worst region of the whole island, and playing the buffoon for

noblemen with whom he was leading the most shameless life; that he

would lose more money in gambling in a single night, than his poor

father made in a whole year, and heaven only knew how he came by it.

But the worst of all was something which Klaus only mentioned after

again solemnly assuring me that he did not believe a word of it. He had

been the evening before to take leave of Justizrath Heckepfennig, who

was Christel's godfather, and at whose house he was a frequent visitor.

The family were just at tea. Elise Kohl, Emilie's dearest friend, was

there too, and they had done Klaus the honor to offer him a cup of tea,

after he had said that next day he was going to Zanowitz and meant to

look me up. The justizrath urgently dissuaded him from doing so, adding

that his long-fixed conviction that I would die in my shoes, had

recently received a confirmation, which, however, he was not free to

disclose. That then the girls had sat in judgment upon me, and decided

that they could forgive me everything else, but could never forgive me

for being the lover of Fräulein von Zehren. They had heard of it from

Arthur, who of course knew; and Arthur had told such things about his

cousin that a girl of any self-respect could hardly listen to them, and

which it was quite impossible to repeat.

Klaus was terrified at the effect which his account produced upon me.

In vain did he repeat that he did not believe a word of it, and had

told the girls so at the time. I vowed that I renounced now and forever

so faithless and treacherous a friend, and that I would sooner or later

be most bitterly avenged upon him. I gave vent to the most terrible

threats and maledictions. Never would I again, with my own consent, set

foot in my native town; I would rather cause an earthquake to swallow

it, if it stood in my power. Up to this time I had felt twinges of

conscience as to whether I had not acted too rashly in leaving my

father for so trifling a cause; but now should my father a hundred

times command me to return, I would not do it. And as for Herr von

Zehren and Fräulein von Zehren I valued a hair of either of their heads

more than the whole town of Uselin, and I was ready to die for both of

them here on the spot in these water-boots of mine, and the devil might

afterwards beat the boots about the justizrath's old mop of a head.

The good Klaus was stricken dumb with horror when he heard me utter

these frightful imprecations. It is quite probable that the idea struck

him that my soul was in a more perilous state than he had hitherto

supposed. He did not say this, however, but presently remarked, in his

simple way, that disobedience to a father was a very serious thing;

that I well knew how much he had always thought of me, in spite of all

that people said, and that he had always been disposed, and was still

disposed to agree with me in everything; but that here I was clearly in

the wrong; and that if my father had really ordered me to return home,

he could not see, for his part, what should prevent me from obeying

him; that he must confess to me that my disobedience to my father had

been troubling him ever since he heard of it, and that he could go away

with an easier mind, now that he had frankly told me this.

I made him no answer, and Klaus did not venture to continue a

conversation that had taken so unpleasant a turn. He walked silently by

my side, giving me a sorrowful look from time to time, like Caro, who

trotted with drooping ears by my other side; for the rain was falling

still more heavily, and my aimless wandering in such weather over the

wet dunes, was a mystery to Caro which grew darker the more he pondered

over it.

Thus we arrived at Zanowitz, where the poor mud-hovels were scattered

about over the undulating sandy dunes, as if they were playing

hide-and-seek. Between the dunes the open sea was visible. This had

always been a sight that I loved, when the sun shone brightly on the

white sand and the blue water, and the white gulls wheeled in joyous

circles over the calm sea. But now all was of a uniform gray, the sand,

and the sky, and the sea that came rolling in in heavy waves. Even the

gulls, sweeping with harsh cries over the stormy waters, seemed gray

like the rest. It was a dreary picture, the coloring of which

harmonized with the frame of mind in which my conversation with Klaus

had left me.

"I see Peters is getting ready to sail," said Klaus, pointing to one of

the larger vessels that were rocking at anchor a short distance from

the beach. "I think we had better go down; father and Christel will be

down there waiting for me."

So we went down to the strand, where they were about pushing off one of

the numerous smaller boats drawn up upon the sand. A crowd of persons

were standing by, and among them old Pinnow, Christel, and Klaus's Aunt

Julchen, a well-to-do fisherman's widow, whom I remembered very well.

Poor Klaus was scarcely allowed a minute to say good-by. Skipper

Peters, who had to deliver in Uselin the same day the corn he had

shipped for the commerzienrath's account, swore at the foolish waste of

time; Pinnow growled that the stupid dolt would never have common

sense; Christel kept her tearful eyes riveted on her Klaus, whom she

was to lose for so long a time; Aunt Julchen wiped the tears and the

rain from her good fat face with her apron; and the deaf and dumb

apprentice Jacob, who was among the rest, stared uninterruptedly at his

master as if he now saw his red nose and blue spectacles for the first

time. Klaus, looking very confused and very unhappy, said not a single

word, but taking in his left hand a bundle which Christel had given

him, he offered his right to each in turn, and then springing into the

boat, seized one of the two oars. A couple of fishermen waded out and

pushed the boat off; the oars were laid in the rowlocks, and the skiff

danced over the waves to the cutter, on which the mainsail was already

hoisted.

When I turned again, Christel had gone, and the fat aunt was just about

following her. The poor thing no doubt wished to shed her long pent-up

tears in quiet, and I thought that I should be doing her a kindness if

I detained her father awhile upon the beach. But Herr Pinnow was in no

haste to leave, as it seemed. With his blue spectacles over his eyes,

which I knew to be sharp as a hawk's, he gazed into the foaming waters,

and exchanged with the Zanowitz sailors and fishermen such remarks as

naturally fall from old sea-rats on the beach watching the departure of

a vessel.

These were in truth faces by no means adapted to inspire confidence,

these high-boned, lean, weather-beaten, sunburnt visages, with

light-blue blinking eyes, of the men of Zanowitz; but I had to say to

myself, as I stood by and observed them one by one, that the face of my

old friend was the most unprepossessing of all. The wicked, cruel

expression of his wide mouth, with thick close-shut lips, that even

when he spoke scarcely moved, had never so struck me before; perhaps I

saw him to-day with different eyes. For indeed, since yesterday

evening, the suspicion which had repeatedly entered my mind, that old

Pinnow was deeply implicated in Herr von Zehren's hazardous

undertakings, had been aroused anew. In fact I had come to an almost

positive conclusion that he would take an active part in the expedition

on hand; and I had been much surprised to hear Klaus say that his

father had ferried Christel and himself over. So, whatever his

connection with Herr von Zehren might be, he was not with him this

time, and that fact partially relieved my uneasiness.

The smith seemed not to have forgotten our quarrel on that evening. He

steadily pretended not to see me, or turned his broad back upon me

while he told the others what a quick passage he had made, and that he

would not have ventured out in such weather, and with his weak eyes

that grew weaker every day, had not Klaus been in such haste. And even

though it should blow less hard this evening, he would rather not take

back Christel with him; she could stay at his sister's, and in her

place he would take some active young fellow from here on board to help

him, for as for that stupid blockhead, Jacob, he could not be relied

on.

The tobacco-chewing men of Zanowitz listened to him and assented, or

said nothing, and did their part in thinking.

To remain on the beach with the wind driving the rain and spray into

one's face, was by no means comfortable, so I turned away from the

group and walked up the shore. I knew where Aunt Julchen's cottage

stood, and I thought I would look in and say a few friendly words to

Christel if I could. But as if he suspected my intention and was

determined to thwart it, old Pinnow, with a pair of fellows of much the

look of gallows-birds, came after me; so I gave up my design for the

time and went through the town, and ascended the dunes, intending to

cross the heath to Trantow.

I had just crossed the summit of the highest dune, which was called the

white one from the peculiar brilliancy of its sand, and from which one

commanded an extensive prospect up and down the shore, when I heard my

name called. I turned and perceived a female figure crouching in a

little hollow under the sharp ridge of the dune, upon the side that

looked away from the village and the sea, and beckoning eagerly to me.

To my no little surprise I recognized Christel, and at once hastened to

her. When I came up, she drew me into the hollow, and intimated to me

with gestures rather than words that I must sit still and keep the dog

quiet.

"What is all this for, Christel?" I asked.

"There is no time to be lost," she answered, "and I must tell you in

two minutes. At three o'clock this morning Herr von Zehren came to see

'him;' they thought I was asleep, but I was not, because I had been

crying about grandmother, and I heard everything. This evening a

Mecklenburg yacht laden with silk will arrive. Herr von Zehren has gone

by extra-post to R. to tell the captain, who is waiting for him there,

to set sail. He will return himself with him on the yacht. Then they

planned how to get the goods off the yacht; and 'he' offered, as the

coast was clear, to take them off himself with his boat. Always before,

the goods have been concealed in Zanowitz, and he took off such as were

intended for Uselin from Zehrendorf, later, as opportunity offered.

When Herr von Zehren objected that it might attract notice if he had

his boat out without any apparent reason, and in such bad weather, 'he'

said that Klaus had been wanting to go see his aunt before he went

away, so he would take him over, and carry me along too, that there

might be no possibility of suspicion. Then they called in Jock Swart,

who had been waiting in the forge, and told him to come over here at

once and have ready for to-night twelve of the surest men from

Zehrendorf and Zanowitz, to accompany him on board--as carriers you

know. Jock went, and after about a quarter of an hour Herr von Zehren

went too, and then after another quarter of an hour, Jock came back

again. I wondered at this, for Herr von Zehren had told him expressly

and several times over, not to lose a minute, but to set out at once;

but 'he' must have given him a sign, or had some previous understanding

with him. Then they put their heads together and talked so softly that

I could not make out what they said, but it must have been something

bad, for 'he' got up once or twice and came and listened at my door to

see if I was awake. Then he went away, but Jock stayed. About an hour

later, just as day was beginning to break, he came back with another

man--the customs-inspector Blanck. He had not his uniform on, but I

knew him at once, and would have known him anyhow by his voice. So now

the three whispered together, and after a little while went away. About

six 'he' came back alone, and knocked at my door, for I had been afraid

to come out, and asked if I was not going to get up to-day? Klaus would

soon be there, he said, and we were to come over here together, and I

was to bring some things with me, as very likely he would leave me here

with my aunt."

While Christel was telling me this, she looked cautiously from time to

time over the ridge of the dune to see if the coast was clear.

"I did not know what to do," she went on, "for I could not tell Klaus;

he is like a child, and knows nothing about it all, and must not know;

and I thank God he is away. I put it into his head to go and see you,

for I thought very likely you would come down with him, as you did, and

I wanted to tell you, if possible, to see if you could do anything.

Herr von Zehren has always been so good to me, and the last time he was

here said he would take care of Klaus and me, and that I need not be

afraid of 'him,' for 'he' knew very well, and he had moreover told

'him,' that if he did me any harm he would shoot him dead. And since

then 'he' has left me in peace; but he swears horribly at Herr von

Zehren, and vows that he will be even with him, and now his plan is to

bring him to the gallows."

She had begun to cry, but wiped away the tears with her hand, and went

on:

"I can do nothing more. See if you can do anything; and do not be

uneasy on my account, even if 'he' learns that it was my doing."

Her face suddenly flushed to a deep crimson; but the brave girl was

determined to say all that she had to say, and she added:

"I have been talking with my aunt, and my aunt will keep me with her,

and as she has a great number of friends here, he will not venture to

give her any trouble. And now I must go back; run quickly down the

dune; they cannot see you below there; and good-by!"

I pressed her hand and hurried down the high bare dune, which was

surrounded by a number of other lesser ones confusedly heaped together

and overgrown with beach-grass and broom, between which I was tolerably

safe from observation. Still I kept on in a crouching attitude, and did

not raise myself to an erect posture until I had gone a hundred paces

or so over the heath, where concealment was no longer possible. When I

looked back to the white dune, Christel was nowhere to be seen; she had

evidently seized a favorable moment to slip back unobserved into the

village.

CHAPTER XV.

Caro probably saw no reason, as I rather ran than walked along the

narrow path leading over the heath to Trantowitz, to be more satisfied

than before with his master's proceedings. I no longer spoke to him as

I had been doing. I had no eye for the unfortunate hares which he

routed out of their damp forms to relieve his extreme dullness of

spirits, nor for the flocks of gulls that had been driven inland by the

storm. I hurried on as if life and death depended upon my reaching

Trantowitz five minutes earlier or later; and yet it was but too

certain that Hans, when I had taken him into my confidence, would be as

much at a loss as myself. But Hans von Trantow was a good fellow, and a

devoted friend of Herr von Zehren, as I well knew. And then he loved

Constance; for Constance's sake, even if he had no other reason, he

must help me to save Constance's father, if any rescue was now

possible.

And so I tore along. Under my steps jets of water sprang from the

marshy soil into which I often sank to the ankles; the rain dashed into

my face, and the gulls screamed as they wheeled above my head.

From Zanowitz to Trantow was a half-hour's journey, but it seemed to me

an age before I reached the house, a bald and desolate-looking building

even in the sunshine, and now doubly forlorn and cheerless in the rain.

In front of the one-storied dwelling with its eight tall poplars, whose

slender summits were wildly swaying in the storm, stood Granow's

hunting-wagon and horses. That detestable fellow was there, then; but

no matter for that; I must speak with Hans von Trantow alone, if I had

first to pitch Herr von Granow out of the door.

Entering, I found the gentlemen at breakfast; a couple of empty bottles

on the table showed that they had been sitting there some time already.

Granow changed color at my entrance. It is probable that with my heated

and agitated face, my clothes saturated with rain, and my hunting-boots

covered with the sand of the dunes and the mud of the moor, I presented

a rather startling appearance, and the little man had not, in reference

to me, the clearest conscience in the world. Trantow, without rising at

my entrance, reached a chair and drew it up to the table, then gave me

his hand, and nodded his head towards the bottles and the dishes. His

good-natured face was already very red, and his great blue eyes rather

glassy; it was plain that the empty bottles were to be set chiefly to

his account.

"You have certainly not been out shooting in this horrible weather?"

asked Herr von Granow, with sudden friendliness, and politely placed

bread, butter, and ham before me, which, in spite of all my anxiety, I

attacked with energy, for I was nearly famished, and the hot air of the

room had given me a sensation of faintness.

"We have been sitting here these two hours," he went on, "and were just

deliberating how we should spend the day. I proposed cards, but Hans

will not play; he says he means to give it up. Gambling is a vice, he

says."

"So it is," muttered Hans.

"Only when he wins, you understand," said Granow, laughing at his own

wit. "He considers it vicious to take from other people the money which

they very likely need. He has no need of money himself; have you Hans?"

"Got no use for it," said Hans.

"There, you hear him yourself; he has got no use for it. He must marry,

that's the thing for him; then he will find out a use for his money. We

were just now talking about it."

Hans's red face took a somewhat deeper shade, and he cast a shy look at

me. It struck me that I had myself been one of the subjects of their

conversation.

"He will not find it so easy as you who have only to ask and have," I

said.

"I do not understand you," said the little man, with evident

embarrassment.

"I mean that this is what you told me yourself the day before

yesterday," I answered. "You even mentioned names; but it can't be

managed; it really can't, although Herr von Granow has considered the

matter from every side."

I uttered the last words in an ironical tone, turning to Hans as I

spoke. Hans, whose head was never particularly clear, could catch no

glimpse of my meaning at all; but Herr von Granow understood me

perfectly.

"A jest should not be taken more seriously than it is meant," he said,

pouring himself out a glass of wine with a hand that visibly shook.

"Or better, one should not venture to jest upon certain subjects at

all," I retorted, following his example.

"I am old enough not to need any admonitions from you," said the little

man, with a pitiful attempt to assume an intimidating tone.

"And yet you have not yet learned to bridle your tongue," I replied,

looking him steadily in the face.

"It seems you intend to insult me, young man," he cried, setting down

hastily the glass of which he had only tasted.

"Shall I make that fact clear to you by throwing this glass in your

face?"

"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" cried Hans.

"Enough!" exclaimed the little man, pushing back his chair and rising;

"I will bear these insults no longer. I will have satisfaction, if this

gentleman is entitled to be dealt with in that way."

"My father is a respectable officer in the customs," I answered; "my

grandfather was a minister, and so was my great-grandfather. Yours was

a shepherd, was he not?"

"We shall meet again," cried the little man, rushing out of the room,

banging the door after him. In another moment we heard his carriage

rattling over the pavement of the court.

CHAPTER XVI.

"Now, what is the meaning of all this?" asked Hans, who had never moved

from his chair during the whole scene.

I broke into loud laughter.

"It means," I replied, "that Herr von Granow is a blackguard who has

had the audacity to defame a lady whom we both respect, in a manner

which deserves far more serious treatment; but besides this, I wanted

to get him away--I must speak to you. You must help me--you must help

him----"

I did not know how to begin, and in my excitement I strode wildly up

and down the room.

"Drink off half a bottle at once," said Hans, meditatively; "that is a

specific for clearing the brain."

But without having recourse to this specific, I was presently calm

enough to tell him what it was that so agitated me. I related to him

everything from the beginning; my first suspicion of Herr von Zehren,

which had been completely lulled until Granow's loquacity had aroused

it again; then Herr von Zehren's half admission of the previous

evening, and the circumstances of his departure--keeping silent,

however, about the letter of the steuerrath, which was not my

secret--and then my exploration in the cellar this morning, and finally

Christel's disclosure. I wound up by saying: "Herr von Trantow, I do

not know what you think of his conduct, but I know that you have a

great regard for him, and that," I added, coloring, "you deeply respect

Constance, Fräulein von Zehren. Help me if you can. I am resolved to

risk everything rather than let him fall into the snare which clearly

has been set for him."

Von Trantow's cigar had gone out while I was speaking, nor had he made

the slightest attempt to re-kindle it--an evidence of the rapt

attention with which he was listening to my statement. As soon as I

paused, he stretched out his great hand to me over the table, and was

about to say something, but perceived that both our glasses were empty,

so replenished them instead, and leaning back in his chair, sank into

the profoundest meditation.

"I do not think it probable," I proceeded, warmed by his speechless

sympathy, "that they will capture him; for I am convinced that he will

defend himself to the last extremity."

Hans nodded, to intimate that he had not a doubt of it.

"But to think of their bringing him to trial, of their throwing him

into prison? Herr von Trantow, shall we suffer that, if we can prevent

it? Only yesterday he told me how one of his ancestors, also named

Malte, when a prisoner in Uselin, was rescued by the strong arm, and at

the sword's point, by one of yours, named Hans like yourself, upon a

message brought by a faithful squire. The whole story has come round

again. I am the faithful squire, and you and I will cut him out as they

did then."

"That we will!" cried Hans, smiting the table with his heavy fist so

that the bottles and glasses rang. "If they shut him up, we will blow

up the prison."

"We must never let it get to that point," I said, smiling

involuntarily, despite my anxiety at Hans's blind zeal. "We must warn

him beforehand; we must get to him before anything happens; we must

frustrate the whole plan founded upon Pinnow's and Jock's villainous

treachery. But how? How can it be done?"

"How can it be done?" echoed Hans, thoughtfully rubbing his head.

We--or rather I, for Hans contented himself with playing the attentive

listener, and incessantly replenishing my glass, with the view,

apparently, of assisting my invention--designed a hundred plans, of

which each was less practicable than the previous one, until I hit upon

the following scheme, which, like all the others, had the fullest and

promptest adhesion of the good Hans.

If their plan was to seize Herr von Zehren _flagrante delicto_, as

Christel's revelation indicated, it was most probable that, as was

their usual plan of operations in similar cases, they had laid an

ambush for him. This ambush could only be posted upon a road that he

must of necessity take, or upon one to which he was purposely enticed.

In the latter case we could form no conjectures of its disposition; but

in the former we might assume with tolerable assurance that the ambush

would be stationed in the neighborhood of the castle. In every event

our aim must be to reach him as soon as possible. But to effect this

but one plan was practicable; we must set out at once with Pinnow, and

as he was not likely to take us voluntarily as passengers, we must be

prepared to compel him to it. How this was precisely to be done, we

could leave to chance; the all-important thing was that we should be in

Zanowitz at the right time. Pinnow would certainly not sail before

night-fall, as the smuggler-yacht would unquestionably come in under

cover of the darkness, and then would approach as near the shore as

possible. When we were once on board, it would be time to think about

the rest.

We next took another point into consideration. That our scheme was not

to be accomplished without force, both Hans and I were thoroughly

aware. Nothing could be done with guns in the darkness, nor would

cutlasses or hunting-knives be sufficient against Pinnow and his men,

who all carried knives. We must trust to pistols.

Hans had a pair; but one pair was not sufficient. I remembered that

there was another pair hanging in Herr von Zehren's chamber, and these

we must get. I thought little of Constance's prohibition from entering

the house before her father's return; here were heavier interests at

stake; this was a matter of life and death. Indeed it was a question if

it would not be judicious to give Fräulein von Zehren a hint at least

of the state of affairs; but we concluded not to do so, as she could

not possibly help us, and would only be alarmed to no purpose. But we

thought it prudent to take into our counsel old Christian, who could be

relied upon in any case. We could arrange a pre-concerted signal with

him, a light in one of the gable windows, or something of that sort, by

which he could let us know at a distance, in case we got back

unmolested to Zehrendorf, whether the coast was clear about the castle.

By the time we had got so far with our deliberations, it I was two

o'clock, and we had until dusk at least three hours, which were to be

got through with with as much patience as we could muster--a hard task

for me, who was in a burning fever of impatience. Hans showed himself

the most amiable of hosts. He brought out his best cigars and his best

wine; he was more talkative than I had ever known him; the prospect of

an adventure of so serious a character as that which we had in view,

seemed to have had the good effect of arousing him out of his usual

apathy. He recounted the simple story of his life: how he had early

lost his parents, how he had been sent to a boarding-school at the

provincial capital, where he was prepared for the gymnasium, in which

he remained until his seventeenth year and rose to the fourth class.

Then he became a farmer; took his estate in hand as soon as he was of

age, and had been living upon it six years--he was now in his

thirtieth--quietly and placidly, using his weapons only against the

creatures of the forest and the field, raising his wheat, shearing his

sheep, smoking his cigars, drinking his wine, and playing his cards.

There was but one romantic feature in all his prosaic life, and that

was his love for Constance. It was in the year that he came to live

upon his estate, that she came back to her father; and to see

Constance, to love her, and to love her still more devotedly long after

he had been convinced of the hopelessness of his passion, to drown this

hopeless passion in wine, so far as was in his power--this was the poor

fellow's fate. He accepted it with perfect resignation, convinced that

he was not the man to make his own fortune, any more than he had been

able, when at school, to do his own exercises. Why and for whom should

he plague himself with work? He had all that he wanted in the present,

and there was no future for him to look forward to. He was the last of

his race, and had not even a kinsman in the world. When he died, his

estate, as a lapsed fief, reverted to the crown. The crown then might

see what was to be done with the ruined barns and stables and with the

dilapidated house. He let decay and weather work their will. He only

needed a room, and in this room we were now sitting, while Hans went on

with his recital in his monotonous way, and the rain beating against

the low windows kept up a melancholy accompaniment.

A conversation in which there was a continual reference to Constance,

even if her name was not actually mentioned, had a strangely painful

charm for me. Although Hans did not breathe a syllable of complaint

against the fair girl, it was plain from his story that she had at

first encouraged his bashful attentions, and only altered her behavior

to him after her meeting with Prince Prora at the watering-place two

years before. And Hans was evidently not the only one who had received

encouragement. Karl von Sylow, Fritz von Zarrentin--in a word, almost

every one of the young noblemen who formed Herr von Zehren's circle of

acquaintance, had earlier or later, with greater or less right, held

himself to be the favored one. Even Granow, although from the first he

was made the butt of his companions, might boast that he was favorably

looked upon by the young lady during the earlier months of his

residence; indeed Hans still considered Granow's chance by no means

desperate, for the little man was very rich, and she would only marry a

rich man, he added, with a deep sigh, as he filled his glass once more.

At Hans's last words I sprang from the table and threw open the window.

I felt as if I must suffocate, or as if the low ceiling with its bent

beams would fall in upon me.

"Is it still raining?" Hans asked.

"Not at this moment," I said. But one of those thick fogs of which

several had passed over in the course of the day, was drifting in from

the sea.

"Real smugglers' weather," said Hans. "The old man ought to be ashamed

of himself to drag his friends out on such a day. But that cannot be

helped. Shall we not drink another bottle? It will be cursedly cold

to-night."

I said I thought we had already drunk more than enough, and that it was

high time to start.

"Then I will get ready," said Hans, and went into his chamber, where I

for a long time heard him rummaging among his water-boots.

I had always considered myself pretty cool in moments of danger; but in

Hans I had met my master. While he was overhauling the things in his

room, I heard him through the half-open door whistling to himself as

cheerily as if we were going out to shoot hares, instead of an

adventure of life and death. To be sure, I said to myself, his is a

case of hopeless love, and Herr von Zehren is merely a friend,

neighbor, and equal, whom he feels it his duty to assist against the

hated police. That Hans, in combating for a cause that did not really

concern him, was doing much more, or at least acting far more

disinterestedly than I, did not occur to me.

And now he came out of his room, if not the wildest of all wild

warriors, yet in appearance one who would be very appropriately

selected for an adventure that demanded a strong and bold man. His long

legs were incased in immense boots; over a close-fitting jacket of silk

he had put on a loose woollen overcoat, which he probably wore when

hunting in winter, and which could be drawn close with a belt or

allowed to hang loose, as at present, he having buckled the belt under

it around the jacket, and thrust his pistols into the belt. With a

jolly laugh he displayed his equipment and asked me if I would not have

an overcoat also, as he had another; an offer which I gladly accepted.

"We look like two brothers," said Hans; and in fact we might easily

have been mistaken for brothers, as we both had the same stature and

breadth of shoulders, and were dressed almost precisely alike.

"If there are not too many of them," said Hans, "we can easily manage

them."

"A half-dozen to each of us, or so," I said, and laughed; but I was

very far from a mirthful feeling as we closed the door after us, and

Caro, whom we had left behind, broke out into a dismal howling and

whining. Poor Caro, he was in the right that morning when he reminded

me with his woebegone looks that we should never praise the day until

the evening.

CHAPTER XVII.

It was four o'clock when we set out, and already it was growing dusk as

we took the foot-path through the stubble-field to Zehrendorf. No clear

judgment of the weather was to be drawn from the appearance of the sky

and clouds, as the whole atmosphere was filled with watery mist,

through which every object took a singularly strange and unnatural

appearance. We pushed on rapidly, sometimes side by side and sometimes

in single file, for the path was narrow and very slippery from the

incessant rains. We were just deliberating what we should say to

Constance, in case we should unfortunately meet her, when we saw upon

the road bordered with willows, which was but a few hundred paces

distant from the foot-path, a carriage drawn by two horses coming from

the castle in such haste that in less than half a minute it had

vanished in the mist, and we could only hear the trampling of the

galloping horses and the rattling of the carriage over the broken

causeway. Hans and I looked at each other in astonishment.

"Who can that be?" he asked.

"It is the steuerrath," I answered.

"What can bring him here?" he asked again.

I did not answer. I could not tell Hans of the letter that proved the

direct or indirect complicity of the steuerrath, nor explain how likely

it was that he would attempt to warn his brother that the affair had

taken a wrong turn. What information could he have brought? Might it

still be of service to the unfortunate man whose movements were dogged

by treachery?

"Let us hasten all we can," I cried, pressing on without waiting for

Hans's answer, and Hans, who was a capital runner, followed closely

upon my heels.

In a few minutes we had reached the gate which opened on this side into

the court. At the gate was a stone-bench for the accommodation of

persons waiting until the gate was opened, and upon this bench sat or

rather lay old Christian, with blood trickling down his wrinkled face

from a fresh wound in the forehead. As we came up he seemed to be

recovering from a partial swoon, and stared at us with a confused look.

We raised him up, and Hans caught some water in his hollow hand from a

neighboring rain-spout and sprinkled it in his face. The wound was not

deep, and seemed to have been inflicted with some blunt instrument.

"What has happened, Christian?" I had already asked half-a-dozen times,

before the old man had recovered his senses sufficiently to answer

feebly:

"What has happened? She is off; and he struck me over the head with the

butt of his whip as I was trying to shut the gate."

I had heard enough. Like some furious animal I rushed to the house. The

doors were all standing open: the front door, that of the dining-room,

and that of Herr von Zehren's chamber. I ran in, as I heard hammering

and rattling inside. Old Pahlen was kneeling before Herr von Zehren's

escritoire, scolding furiously to herself while trying her best, with a

hatchet and crowbar, to force the lock. She had not heard me enter.

With one jerk I dragged her to her feet; and she started back and

glared at me with looks flaming with impotent rage. Her gray hair hung

in elf-locks from under her dirty cap, and in her right hand she still

clutched the hatchet. The horrible old woman, whose vile nature was now

openly shown, was a hideous object to behold; but I was not in a frame

of mind to be checked by any sight, however repulsive.

"Where has she gone?" I thundered at her. "You must know, for you

helped her off."

"Ay, that I did," screamed the old hag, "that I did; and may Satan

fetch my soul for doing it! The thankless, worthless creature promised

to take me with her, and now leaves me here with shame and abuse in

this robber's den; but she'll live yet to come to it herself when he

flings her out into the street, the----"

"Another word, woman, and I strike you to the floor," I cried, raising

my fist threateningly.

The old woman burst into a screech of laughter. "Now _he_ begins!" she

cried. "And didn't they make a fine fool of him, the stupid blockhead!

Thought he was the man, to be sure, while the other one was with her

every night. Lets himself be sent out of the way, for the other to come

in his coach and carry off the pretty lady." And the old wretch burst

again into a screech of horrible laughter.

"Be that as it may," I said, struggling to keep down the rage and

anguish that were tearing my heart, "you have been rightly served, at

all events; and if you do not want me to have you hounded off the place

for a thief, as you are, you had better take yourself off at once."

"Oh, indeed!" screamed the hag, planting her arms a-kimbo, "he carries

matters here with a high hand, to be sure! I a thief, indeed! I only

want my money. I have had for this half-year no wages from the whole

beggarly lot, the smuggling gang!"

She had received from me, during the two months of my stay at

Zehrendorf, more than her whole year's service could amount to; and I

had myself seen Herr von Zehren pay her wages but a few days before,

and add a handsome present besides.

"Begone!" I said. "Leave the place this instant!"

The old woman caught up the hatchet, but she well knew that she could

not intimidate me. So she retreated before me out of the room, and out

of the house, screaming out all the time the vilest abuse and the most

furious threats against Herr von Zehren, Constance, and myself. I

closed the great gate after her with my own hands, and then looked for

Hans, who was just coming out of the lodge, into which he had been

taking old Christian.

Hans was deathly pale, and did not look at me as he came to my side. He

had heard enough from old Christian to make it unnecessary for him to

seek from me any further particulars of Constance's abduction; and he

probably did not care to let me see how hard the blow had struck him,

which hurled into the mire the image of his idolatry, and so cruelly

destroyed his solitary illusion, the last glimmer of poetry in his

cheerless life. I seized his hand and wrung it hard.

"What now?" I asked.

"Suppose I ride after him and knock out his brains," said Hans.

"Excellent!" I replied, with a forced laugh; "if he had carried her off

by force; but as it seems she went with him quite willingly--come on;

the thing is not worth thinking over a moment longer."

"You have not loved her for six years," said poor Hans.

"Then saddle Herr von Zehren's bay and ride after him," I said; "but we

must come to a decision at once."

Hans stood irresolute. "By heavens, I should like to help you," he

said.

"Ride after the rascal and punish him, if you want to," I cried, "I am

perfectly satisfied. But whatever is to be done must be done at once."

"Then I will!" said Hans, and went with long strides to the stable,

where he knew Herr von Zehren's horse stood, a powerful hunter, but now

past his prime, and much neglected of late since Herr von Zehren had

given up riding.

There was on the place a half-grown youth who did odd jobs, and was

much cuffed about by the others. He came up now and said that Jock had

been there an hour before and taken with him Karl, who was cutting

straw in the barn-loft, and Hanne, who was sitting in the lodge, and so

he was left to do Karl's work. Of what else befell, he in his dark loft

had seen and heard nothing.

To entrust to this simple, scarcely more than half-witted youth the

part which Christian should have taken in our plan would have been

folly; but as he was an honest fellow, we could trust him to take care

of the old man and keep guard over the house. I ordered him to go the

rounds from time to time with the dog, whom I unchained, and under no

pretext whatever to let in the old hag whom I had driven off the place,

and from whom I expected mischief. Fritz promised to observe my orders

faithfully. Then I hastily caught down Herr von Zehren's pistols, which

were hanging, loaded, against the wall.

When I came out into the court again, I saw Hans just galloping out of

the gate. A wild jealousy seized me. Why could I not be at his side?

The composure, the indifference, which I had just exhibited--all was

mere sham; I had but a single desire, to revenge myself on him and on

her; but I must leave it to Hans; he had loved her for six years!

Thus I raged in spirit as I hastened at a rapid rate through the fields

and meadows, and finally across the heath to Zanowitz. Strive as I

might to fix my thoughts upon the immediate exigency, they perpetually

reverted to what had just taken place. A weight as of a mountain lay

upon my heart. I remember more than once I stood still and shrieked

aloud to the gray, cloudy sky. When I reached the dunes, however, the

necessity of devising some definite plan of operations brought me back

to my senses.

The weather had somewhat cleared up in the meantime, and the wind had

hauled; the rain had ceased, and the fog had lifted; there was more

light than an hour before, although the sun had set by this time.

Looking down from the height of the dunes upon Zanowitz I saw the dark

sea, where the waves were still tumbling, though not so heavily as in

the morning, cutting with a sharp horizontal line against the bright

sky. I could still distinguish, though with difficulty, the larger

vessel in the roadstead, but could clearly make out the row of boats

drawn up to the beach, as well as a little yawl that came rowing

towards a group of men assembled on the strand. If these were the last

of Pinnow's party I had not a minute to spare.

It was also possible that this group of dark figures might be

functionaries of the custom-house; but I was satisfied that the

probability of this being the case, was but small. Zanowitz was crowded

with smugglers, and Pinnow could hardly venture upon open treachery.

Not that any attempt would have been made to resist by violence an

expedition of the officials conducted by him; but from the moment in

which he appeared in that capacity, he would be marked out for

vengeance, and his life would not be worth an hour's purchase. However

the treachery might have been concocted, the traitors had assuredly

taken care to conceal their own share in it from all other eyes.

But I had no time for much consideration on these points; and indeed

did not pause to reflect, but ran down the dunes. As I neared the group

a man came out from it and advanced to meet me. He had turned up the

wide collar of his pea-jacket, and pulled the brim of his sou'-wester

as far as possible over his face, but I recognized him at once.

"Good evening, Pinnow," I said.

He made no reply.

"I am glad to have met you," I went on; "I heard this morning that it

was possible you might sail for Uselin this evening, and I wanted to

ask you to take me along with you."

He still gave no answer.

"You will have to take me, whether you like it or not," I proceeded. "I

have made every preparation for the trip. Look here," and I threw back

my overcoat and drew one of my pistols half out of my belt, "they are

both loaded."

He still kept silent.

"Shall I try them on you to see if they are loaded or not?" I asked,

drawing one from my belt and cocking it.

"Come on," said Pinnow.

I lowered the hammer of the pistol, replaced it in my belt, and then

walked on Pinnow's right, keeping a little behind him. Presently I

said:

"Do not expect to find any protection among the men down there. I will

keep close to your side, and upon the first word you let fall, tending

to raise them against me, you are a dead man. How many have you already

on board?"

"Ten men," muttered Pinnow. "But I do not know what you want with me;

go with us or stay behind as you please; what the devil do you suppose

I care?"

"We shall see," I answered, drily.

We now joined the group, which consisted of my long friend Jock, the

men Karl and Hanne, and the deaf and dumb Jacob who had rowed the yawl

over.

"He is going with us," said Pinnow, laconically, to his men, as he lent

a hand himself to push off the yawl.

I thought that I perceived a look of alarmed surprise pass over the

brutal features of Jock at seeing us. He looked at his accomplice for

an explanation of the mystery, but Pinnow was busy with the yawl. The

two others were standing apart; they evidently did not know what to

make of it all.

"There are only four wanted," said Pinnow.

"Very good," I said. "You, Karl and Hanne, go home and keep perfectly

quiet, do you hear?"

"I can go home too," said Jock, surlily.

"One step from the spot," I cried, levelling the pistol at his head,

"and you have stood on your long legs for the last time. Get on board!"

Jock Swart obeyed.

"You next, Pinnow!"

Pinnow obeyed. I followed.

We had about twenty minutes rowing before we reached the cutter, for

the surf was heavy, and the cutter was anchored pretty far out on

account of her deep draught. This frustrated a plan which occurred to

me at the last moment, namely, to put the whole party on shore, and go

out to the yacht with Pinnow and Jock alone. But I saw that in the

rowing back and forwards that would be necessary, at least an hour

would be lost, and it was all-important to have speech of Herr von

Zehren as speedily as possible. What might not happen in an hour?

We reached the cutter that was dancing at her anchor upon the waves,

like an impatient horse tugging at his halter. We pulled alongside, and

I sprang on board among the dark figures.

"Good evening, men," I said. "I am going along with you. Some of you

know me, and know that I am a good friend of Herr von Zehren; and

besides, Pinnow and Jock Swart will answer for me."

The two that I named accepted the sponsorship by their silence; but I

believe that it was unnecessary. I had often been with Herr von Zehren

in Zanowitz--indeed we had been there but the day before--and had

probably occasionally spoken with every one of the men. They all knew

my intimate association with him, and could see nothing remarkable that

I should take part in an expedition made for the account of one who

was to a certain extent my patron as he was theirs. No one answered

me--these people were not in the habit of wasting speech--but they

willingly received me among them. My impression that Pinnow and Jock

Swart were the only traitors, was confirmed. So in every sense he was

now in my power. If I told the men what I knew, the two accomplices

would probably have flown overboard; for the Zanowitz men were not to

be trifled with in these matters.

I said as much to Pinnow as I took my place beside him at the helm.

"Do what you please," he muttered, putting a quid of tobacco into his

wide mouth.

Although Christel's information was so positive, a doubt came over me

as I marked the imperturbable calmness of the man who knew that his

life was every moment at risk. Had Christel's hearing deceived her in

her excitement? Had the good Hans and I unnecessarily mixed ourselves

up with this lawless crew, who were plying, in darkness and mist, their

perilous trade?

By this time the cutter, a capital sailer, was flying through the

waves. The sky had grown much clearer; there was still light enough to

see pretty plainly at two or three hundred yards distance. But it was

bitter cold, and the surf that dashed, often in heavy masses, over the

deck, by no means added to the comfort of the situation. The small

craft was crowded with the fourteen men that were on board. Wherever

one looked, there lay or crouched a dark figure. Pinnow sat at the

helm. As I kept my post at his side, and had thus an opportunity

to watch him closely, I grew more dubious with every minute whether

there was not some mistake in the whole affair. There sat the

broad-shouldered man, moving not a muscle of his face, except when from

time to time he slowly turned his quid from one cheek into the other,

or fixed his sharp eyes upon the sails, or turned them out to sea. When

we tacked, a man[oe]uvre which was performed almost every minute, and

he called "Luff!" for us to stoop and let the boom pass over our heads,

his voice rang always firm and clear. Was it possible that a traitor

could have so sure a hand, so sharp an eye, and could chew his tobacco

with such equanimity?

"How far do you think we shall have to go before we find the yacht?" I

asked.

"We may come up with her at any moment," Pinnow growled; "and very

likely we may see nothing at all of her."

"How so?"

"If they should have caught sight of one of the coastguard boats, they

would stand out to sea again."

"How long will you look for her?"

"One hour; so it was arranged."

"Between you and Herr von Zehren, or between you and Inspector Blanck?"

Pinnow squirted his tobacco-juice overboard and growled:

"For the last time I tell you that I do not know what you want. The

foolish wench Christel, I suppose, has made you believe that I am

playing false; but she is more likely to have done it herself. I should

be sorry if she gave up her old foster-father in order to get rid of

him; but what will such a wench not do?"

These words, that the smith grumbled out in his surly way, made a

strong impression upon me. Had I not but an hour before had proof

what a girl would do to carry out her will? And Pinnow was only her

foster-father. Could she have invented a plausible tale to set Herr von

Zehren and myself against the old man? Could she have herself

perpetrated the treachery that she ascribed to him, and have given the

information to the officers, in order in this way to be rid of one whom

she had good reason for wishing out of the way? And had her conscience

smitten her at the last moment, when she reflected that his ruin would

involve that of Herr von Zehren, to whom she owed a debt of gratitude?

Was her story to me but an attempt to save him through my means?

I admit that a minute's calm reflection would have sufficed to convince

me of the extreme improbability of this idea; but how could I calmly

reflect in the situation and in the frame of mind in which I then was?

A wild merriment seized me, and I laughed aloud. Was it not a thing to

laugh at, that of us two conspirators, Hans was galloping after the

pretty pair over the wretched road through mist and drizzle, without

the shadow of a reasonable ground for such a race; and was it not just

as ridiculous, that I, who with such extravagant zeal and blindness,

had been running from the morning until now, through storm and rain,

tortured by countless anxieties, was a mere puppet, moved by a string

whose end was held by two girls' hands, the one of which I, in my

gratitude, had passionately kissed, and the other at least pressed

cordially. Truly it would have been better if we had both stayed by our

bottle in the warm room.

"Look there!" said Pinnow, touching my shoulder, while at the same

moment he gave the word, "Luff!" in a peculiar, long-drawn, suppressed

tone.

I perceived at but a few hundred yards distance a trimly-rigged

schooner of moderate size, and I recognized at a glance one of the

vessels of the coast-guard, named the Lightning. I had too often been

on board her, and had sketched her too often under every possible

arrangement of sails, to be deceived in her.

"That is the _Lightning_," I exclaimed.

At the same moment that the cutter went about, the _Lightning_ also

altered her course and bore down on us.

"Boat ahoy!" came through a speaking trumpet over the dash of the

waves.

My heart seemed to stop beating; my hand lay on the butt of my pistol.

If Pinnow laid the cutter to, his treachery was proven.

"Boat ahoy!" came over the water again.

"Haul aft the foresail!" ordered Pinnow.

I breathed again. Pinnow's order was equivalent to _sauve qui peut_.

"Boat ahoy!" came their hail for the third time, and almost in the same

moment there was a flash on board the _Lightning_, and the report of a

musket, deadened by the distance and the plashing of the waves, reached

my ear.

"Shake out that reef in the jib!" ordered Pinnow.

I took my hand from the pistol. There was now no doubt that Pinnow was

doing his utmost to escape the pursuing vessel. My heart leaped with

joy; the man at my side, of whom I had once been so fond, though he had

never deserved my affection, was at all events no traitor. What would I

have done if I had known that this was all a carefully arranged plan,

in carrying out which the cold-blooded old villain was not in the least

disturbed by my clumsy interference; that this meeting with the

schooner was preconcerted in order to lead the latter upon the right

track? That the flight and pursuit were merely feigned, to conceal the

treachery from the other smugglers, and that the three or four blank

cartridges that were fired from the schooner had the same object? What

would I have done if I had known all this? Well for me that I did not

know it; at least no blood of a fellow-creature cleaves to my hand.

CHAPTER XVII.

The cutter now flew gallantly along under a press of canvass that laid

her lee-bulwarks nearly under water, while the _Lightning_ fell astern,

and in brief time was lost to our sight.

A sort of life had come into the silent and almost motionless crew of

the cutter. They raised their heads and exchanged remarks upon the

incident, which to them was nothing so unusual. Every one of these men

had at some time or other been brought into dangerous contact with the

revenue service. The liberty, and possibly the life of every man there

had at some time or other hung by a single thread. So no one exhibited

any special excitement, but Smith Pinnow least of all. He sat at the

helm just as before, casting keen glances at the sails and into the

dusk, chewing his tobacco, and otherwise not moving a muscle. He did

not say a word to me, as if it was not worth the while of an old sea

dog to speak to so young a fellow about things which he did not

understand. I felt a dryness in my throat that compelled me to cough

once or twice, and I buttoned my overcoat closer over my pistols.

And now another vessel loomed through the dusk, and this time it was

the long-looked-for yacht, a tolerably large craft, with but a single

sail, but a full deck. In a few minutes we were alongside of her, and

immediately the bales of goods, which were all in readiness, were

lowered from the deck of the yacht, and taken on board by the crew of

the cutter, who were now alert enough in their movements. The whole

went on with extraordinary silence; hardly now and then could be heard

a suppressed exclamation, or an order uttered half aloud in the gruff

voice of the captain of the yacht.

I was one of the first to board the yacht, but I looked around in vain

for Herr von Zehren. I was already congratulating myself that he was

not on board, when he suddenly emerged from the hatchway that led to

the cabin. His first glance fell upon me, and he came towards me with

an unsteady gait, caused, as I supposed, by the motion of the vessel.

"And what in the devil's name has brought you here?" he cried with a

hoarse voice; but I had no time to give him any explanation. The cutter

had now all her lading on board, and the captain of the yacht coming

up, said, "Now, be off with you!" He had just learned that a revenue

schooner was about, and had no desire to risk his vessel and the rest

of his cargo. "Be off!" he repeated, in a rough tone.

"To-morrow evening, then, at the same time," said Herr von Zehren.

"We'll see about it," said the captain, and sprang to the helm, for the

yacht, which had already weighed her anchor, and whose mainsail was now

half-mast high, began to come round to the wind.

A scene of confusion followed. The yacht's man[oe]uvre had been

performed without any consideration for the cutter alongside, and came

very near sinking our little craft. There was a burst of oaths on both

sides, a tremendous grinding and cracking, a perilous leap from the

deck of the yacht to that of the cutter, and we pushed off, while the

yacht, which had already caught the wind, went on her course with full

sails.

All this had taken place so rapidly, and, besides, the bustle and

confusion of such a number of men on so small a craft, as they set the

sails and stowed the cargo in the fore-hold, were so great, that some

time passed ere I could get to Herr von Zehren's side.

He was still swearing at the villain of a captain, the coward who was

running from a miserable revenue-schooner that he could run down and

sink in five minutes. Catching sight of me he asked again, "What has

brought you here?"

I was somewhat embarrassed how to answer this question. My suspicion of

Pinnow had entirely vanished, and Pinnow sat close beside us at the

helm and heard the question put in a loud tone. I contented myself with

saying:

"I was afraid some misfortune might happen to you, and wanted to be

with you!"

"Misfortune!" he cried. "Stupidity, cowardice, that is the only

misfortune! The devil take the stupid poltroons!"

He sat down by Pinnow and talked with him in an undertone. Then turning

to me, he said:

"You sent two of the men home; you should not have interfered with

them. I need their services; every back is now worth a thousand

_thalers_ to me. Or did you propose to carry a pack yourself?"

He said this in an irritated tone that roused my indignation. If I had

acted injudiciously, I had done all for the best; and to be rebuked for

my faithful service in the presence of Pinnow, it was too much. I had a

sharp answer at my tongue's end, but I gulped down my anger and went

forward.

He did not call me back; he did not come after me to say a friendly

word as he had always before done, whenever in his hastiness he had

wounded my feelings. Presently I heard him rating two of the men in a

shrill voice, for what, I could not understand; but this shrill tone

which I had never before heard from him, told me at once that what I

had feared was the truth; he was intoxicated.

A horrible feeling of disgust and wretchedness came over me. For the

sake of this man, who was gesticulating there like a maniac, I had done

what I had; for his sake I was here among this abandoned crew as

accomplice of a crime which from boyhood had always seemed to me one of

the most detestable; for his sake I had well-nigh become a murderer.

And even now I had in my pocket my father's letter, in which the old

man had given me such a solemn warning, and commanded me, if I had any

regard for his peace, to return to him immediately.

I felt for the letter, and my hand came in contact with the pistols in

my belt. I felt a strange impulse, here upon the spot, in the midst of

the smuggler-gang, and before the eyes of their drunken leader, to blow

out my brains. At this moment I thought of the good Hans who was

risking himself for a cause that was not a whit better. And yet he may

thank heaven, I said to myself, that he is not on this expedition.

"Boat ahoy!" suddenly rang over the water as before, and the

_Lightning_ again loomed out of the dusk, and a couple of shots were

fired.

This was the signal for a chase which lasted probably an hour, during

which the cutter, while seeming to make every effort, by countless

dexterous and daring evolutions, to escape her pursuer, drew ever

nearer and nearer to that part of the coast which had been agreed upon

between Pinnow and the officers, about half a mile above Zanowitz,

where the depth of the water would allow her to run almost immediately

upon the beach. From here one could proceed to Zehrendorf by a

wagon-road which ran along the strand to Zanowitz, and from there over

the heath; or one could go directly across the heath; but in the latter

case there was a large and very dangerous morass to be crossed, which

could only be done by secret paths known to the smugglers alone. It was

ten to one that Herr von Zehren would choose the way over the moor

instead of that along the coast, from the spot to which the cutter had

apparently been driven.

While the chase lasted, I did not move from the spot in which I was,

fully determined to take no active part in the affair, happen what

might. Herr von Zehren made my passive part an easy one; often as he

came near me, he never once took any notice of me. During this hour of

excitement his intoxication seemed to have increased; his behavior was

that of a raging madman. He shrieked to Pinnow to run the schooner

down; he returned the fire of the officers with one of Pinnow's old

guns, which he had found in the cabin, although the _Lightning_

prudently kept at a distance which would have been too great for even a

rifle of long range; and as the cutter, after a long tack out to sea,

on which she distanced the schooner, stood in again and reached the

shore unmolested, he leaped out into the shallow water, and his men had

all to follow him, after each had been loaded with one of the heavy

packs which were made up for this purpose. There were eleven carriers

in all, as Pinnow offered the services of the boatmen he had brought

from Zanowitz, saying that he could get along with the deaf and dumb

Jacob alone; and thus the place of one of the two men whom I had sent

home was filled. But there still remained a twelfth pack, which lay

upon the deck, and would have been left, as there was no one to carry

it, had I not managed to get it on my shoulders by laying it on the

gunwale of the boat, and then springing into the surf, which reached to

my knees. I was resolved that if I parted from Herr von Zehren that

night, he should not be able to say that I had caused him the loss of a

twelfth part of his property, won with so much toil and care, with the

risk of the liberty, and lives of so many men, and at the price of his

own honor.

A boisterous laugh resounded behind me as I left the cutter. It came

from Pinnow; he knew what he was laughing about. The cutter, lightened

of her lading, was now afloat, and as I gained the beach and turned,

she was slowly standing out to sea. He had done his shameful work.

At this moment it flashed upon me, "He is a traitor, after all!" I do

not know whether it was his laugh of malicious triumph that again

aroused my suspicion, or what suggested the thought, but I said to

myself, as I closed the file which was headed by Herr von Zehren and

Jock Swart, "Now it will soon be decided."

CHAPTER XVIII.

We had passed the dunes, and were marching in single file across the

sandy waste land on the other side. No word was spoken; each man had

enough to do in carrying his heavy pack; I perhaps the most of all,

although none of the men, unless it might be Jock Swart, equalled me in

strength; but in such things practice is everything. And then in

addition to my pack, which probably weighed a hundred-weight, I bore

another burden from which the others were free, and which pressed me

far more heavily--the burden of shame that my father's son was bending

under this bale of silk, of which the revenue was defrauded, because I

would not cause a loss of property to the man whose bread I had been

eating for two months. And then I thought with what happiness my heart

beat high when I left Zehrendorf in the morning, and that I was now

returning deceived by the daughter, insulted by the father,

contaminated by the defilement of the base traffic to which I had lent

myself, and that this was the end of my visionary splendors, of my

adored liberty! But the end had not yet come.

Without a moment's rest we kept on, the wet sand crunching under our

feet, when of a sudden a word was given at the head of the file and

passed on in an under-tone from man to man until it came to me, who

being the last could pass it no further--"Halt!"

We had reached the edge of the moor. It could be entered on this side

only by a narrow strip which was passable; then came a stretch of dry

land, a sort of island, surrounded by the morass on every side, which

closed in again at its opposite extremity, perhaps two thousand paces

distant, and there was again only a narrow path which a heavily laden

man could pass without sinking into the morass. After this came the

heath, which extended from the lands of Trantowitz and Zehrendorf on

one side to the dunes of Zanowitz on the other, and which I had already

crossed three times to-day.

The place where we halted was the same where I had stood with Granow

three evenings before. I recognized it by two willows which grew

on the edge of the hollow from which I had first seen the band of

night-prowlers emerge. This hollow lay now a little to our left, at

perhaps fifty paces distance; and I could not have distinguished the

willows in the increased darkness, but for the extraordinary keenness

of my sight. On account of this darkness the men had to close up in

order not to deviate from the narrow path, and this was the reason that

a momentary halt had been ordered.

But it was only for a moment, and again we struck into the moor upon

the narrow causeway: to the right and left among the rushes gleamed a

pale phosphorescent light from the stagnant water which lay around in

great pools, and the ground on which we were treading oscillated in a

singular manner, as we crossed it in a sort of trot.

The path had been safely passed, and the men were marching more slowly,

when my ear caught a clicking sound like the cocking of a gun. The

sound was behind me; that I had plainly heard; and I knew besides that

none of our party was armed. I stopped to listen, and again I heard the

same sound; and presently I distinguished upon the spot where we had

just passed, a figure emerge between the tall rushes, followed

immediately by a second and a third. Without thinking to throw the

heavy pack from my shoulders, and indeed without being conscious of it,

I ran to the head of the file and touched Herr von Zehren, who with

Jock Swart was leading the march, upon the shoulder.

"We are pursued!"

"Nonsense!" said Herr von Zehren.

"Halt!" cried a powerful voice behind us.

"Forward!" commanded our leader.

"Halt! halt!" it was repeated, and half-a-dozen shots were fired in

quick succession, the bullets whistling over our heads.

In an instant our whole party was scattered, as is the custom of

contrabandists when they are hotly pressed, and, as in the present

instance, they are not prepared, or not disposed to offer resistance.

On all sides, except in the direction of our pursuers, I saw the men,

who had at once cast off their packs, stealthily slipping away, some

even creeping off on all-fours. In the next moment Herr von Zehren and

I were alone.

Behind us we heard the ring of iron ramrods in the barrels. They were

re-loading the muskets that had been fired. This gave a brief pause.

Herr von Zehren and I were standing together. "How many are there?" he

asked in a whisper.

"I cannot make out," I answered, in a similar tone; "I think more are

coming up. There can hardly be less than a dozen."

"They will not advance any further in the darkness," he said.

"They are coming now," I urged.

"Halt! Who goes there!" came again from the pursuing party, who were

not more than a hundred paces off, as well as could be judged in the

darkness, and again a bullet or two whistled above our heads.

"I entreat you!" I said, taking his arm to urge him forward.

He let me fairly drag him a few steps. Then suddenly he seemed to awake

as from a dream, and with his old voice and old manner said to me:

"How the devil did you come by this? Off with it!" and he flung down

violently the pack from my shoulders.

"I have carried it the whole way," I murmured.

"Shameful!" he muttered; "shameful! But it all comes from---- My poor

boy! my poor boy!"

The effect of the spirits he had drunk, to deaden as far as possible

his feelings of shame, had entirely passed away. He was again all that

he could be at his best moments, and at once my old love for him

returned. My heart began to throb with emotion. I was again ready to

give my life for him.

"Let us make haste," I said, seizing his cold hand. "It is high time,

by heaven!"

"They will not venture any further up here," he replied, "even if they

have a guide. One man cannot guide them all. But there is treachery at

work. Did you not say something of the sort to me?"

"Yes; and the traitors are Pinnow and Jock Swart."

"Jock was the very one that advised this route."

"Exactly."

"And the villain was the first one to make off."

"He was in haste to join his new friends."

We thus spoke in short detached sentences, while we hurried almost at a

run over the open space, where the darkness, which was now intense,

offered the only security--but an ample one, it is true--against

pursuit. A light rain began to fall; we literally could hardly see our

hands before our faces. Nothing was to be seen or heard of our

pursuers.

"The blundering dolts came too late," said Herr von Zehren; "they

clearly planned to catch us on the narrow path. If our rascals had not

run off, we might now go on comfortably."

"We cannot go back to Zehrendorf," I said.

"Why not?"

"If Jock Swart has betrayed us, as I would take my oath he has, they

will certainly search Zehrendorf."

"Let them try it once," cried the Wild Zehren; "I will send them home

with broken heads. No, no; they will not venture that, or they would

have tried it long ago. At Zehrendorf we are as safe as in Abraham's

bosom."

Just as he said these words there was a sudden gleam of light in the

distance ahead of us, like a faint flash of lightning. Before I could

frame any conjecture as to its cause, it flashed out once more, this

time more vividly, and not vanishing again. The light increased every

moment, rising higher and higher against the black sky with a steadily

widening glare.

"Trantowitz is on fire!" cried Herr von Zehren.

It was not Trantowitz; it could not be Trantowitz, that lay further to

the left and much lower. At Trantowitz there were not the lofty trees

whose summits I could now distinguish in the glow which burned now red

and now yellow, but ever brighter and brighter.

"By heaven it is my own house!" said Herr von Zehren, He rushed forward

for a few paces, and then stopping, burst into a loud laugh. It was a

hideous mirth.

"This is a good joke," he said; "they are burning the old nest down.

That is smoking the old fox out of his den with a vengeance."

He seemed to think that this also was the work of his pursuers. But I

recalled the threats which old Pahlen had uttered when I drove her off

the place. I remembered that among the rest she had said something

about "the red cock crowing from the roof."

But however the fire had originated in which the old castle was now

rapidly consuming, it could not have occurred at a more critical moment

for the castle's master. Although we were fully a mile distant, the

flames, which now towered above the gigantic trees of the park, cast

their light to our very feet; and as the awful glare was caught up and

reflected by the black clouds, now changing to a lurid crimson, a

strange and fearful light spread over the whole region. I could clearly

see Herr von Zehren's features: they were, or appeared to me of the

paleness of death.

"For God's sake let us hasten to get away from here," I said to him.

"The hunt is about to begin," he said.

The hunt had begun already. The pursuing party, who had beset the

narrow pass, and had probably no other orders than to cut us off there,

were now, by the strangest accident, enabled to continue the pursuit,

and they made the best use of the opportunity. Spreading out like

skirmishers, without venturing too dangerously near to the morass on

either side, they pressed rapidly on, rousing from their hiding-places

the fugitives, some of whom were stealing across the open space to the

narrow outlet, and others crouching to the earth or lurking in hollows,

in hope that the pursuit would be given over. Here and there a flash

pierced the dusky glow, and the report of a musket rang out; and

everywhere I saw the figures of pursuers and pursued flitting through

the uncertain light, and heard wild cries of "Halt!" "Stand!" and a

loud halloo and laughter when one was caught.

The blood seemed frozen in my veins. To be hunted down, and shot down

in this fashion, like hares at a battue!

"And no arms," muttered Herr von Zehren, through his clenched teeth.

"Here!" cried I, tearing the pistols from my belt and placing one in

his hand.

"Loaded?"

"Yes!"

"Now then, _en avant!_"

At a rapid run we had nearly reached the outlet-pass, distinguishable

to those who knew the localities by a dead oak and a clump of hazels,

when I caught the gleam of musket-barrels above the bushes. It was as I

had dreaded: the outlet was beset.

"I know another way," whispered Herr von Zehren. "Perhaps it will bear

us, and if not----"

I did not let him finish--"On! on!" I cried.

We turned sharply to the right and entered the tall rushes that

bordered the morass. But they had already caught sight of us; there was

a cry of "Halt!" and shots were fired at us; and some came rapidly

running towards us.

"It must be here," said Herr von Zehren, parting the high rushes and

plunging into them. I followed closely behind him.

Slowly and cautiously, crouching almost to the earth, we crept forward.

It was a desperate attempt. More than once I sank to the knees in the

black morass. I had made up my mind, in case I stuck fast in it, to

blow out my brains.

"We shall do it yet," said Herr von Zehren in a whisper to me over his

shoulder. "We have passed the worst now. I know it well. I was here

after snipe last spring, and the villain Jock was with me. So: now we

are through."

He pushed through the rushes, and at the same moment three men, who had

separated from the rest, and must have been lying for some minutes in

ambush a few paces from the outlet, sprang upon us. The foremost man

was long Jock Swart.

"Dog!" hissed Herr von Zehren through his clenched teeth. He raised his

pistol, and long Jock fell to the ground a dead man.

At the same moment, I also fired, and one of the others reeled and fell

with a loud cry. The third shot off his piece, and ran at full speed

back to the morass. The wounded man then rose to his feet and limped

off with considerable celerity, but with loud cries of pain.

Herr von Zehren, in the meantime, had stepped up to the fallen man. I

sprang to his side, and seized the man, who was lying on his face, by

the shoulders to raise him up. As I lifted him his head fell heavily

forward. A cold shudder ran through me. "My God!" I exclaimed, "he is

dead!"

"He would have it so," said Herr von Zehren.

The body of the dead man slipped from my hand. I arose, trembling in

every limb; my brain began to swim. Here stood a man with a discharged

pistol in his hand; there lay another like a log upon the ground, and a

red glow, as if from the open gate of hell, fell upon them both; the

smoke of powder filled the air, and the rushes of the morass gave a

hissing sound as of a thousand serpents.

However deeply the fearful sight and the feeling of horror with which I

gazed upon it, imprinted themselves upon my memory, I remained

stupefied and aghast for but a single moment. Then all other feelings

were lost in the one thought: He must be saved; he must never fall into

their hands! I believe I could have caught up the unhappy man in my

arms and borne him off, had he resisted; but he offered no resistance.

I now know that he was not flying to save his life; I now know that he

would not have stirred one step from the spot, had he known that I had

the leather pouch with ammunition for the pistols in my pocket; but he

supposed that he was weaponless, and he was resolved not to be taken

alive.

CHAPTER XIX.

At the edge of the morass, where we now were, there was a hollow, in

which, among the deeper marshy spots overgrown with long reed-grass,

there were higher patches, like islands, covered with thick clumps of

alders, hazels, and willows. For any other, who did not know every foot

of this wild region, it would have been impossible to find any way

here; but the old huntsman, who was now the fox upon whose track the

hounds were following hard, was not for a moment at fault either in the

direction to be taken, or the pathless way that was to lead us through

this wilderness. I have never been able to comprehend how a man of his

age, hard pressed as he had already been, and wounded besides, as I

presently learned, was able to overcome such difficulties as nearly

vanquished my youthful strength. Whenever, since, I have seen an old

thoroughbred, broken down under the saddle or in harness, who still,

when his generous blood is roused, by his fire, his strength, and

endurance, puts his younger rivals to shame, my mind reverts to the

Wild Zehren in this night of terror. He burst through almost

impenetrable thickets as though they were standing grain, he bounded

over wide chasms like a stag, and did not check his rapid course until

we came out of the hollow upon the dunes.

Here we took breath, and held a brief consultation which way we should

next pursue. To our right lay Zanowitz, and could we reach it safely,

certainly some friend or other would help us across the sea, or at the

worst I was sailor enough to handle a sail-boat alone; but it was only

too probable that the village and its vicinity were already beset with

soldiers sent to capture any of the fugitives who might seek refuge

there. To attempt to cross the heath between Zehrendorf and Trantowitz

and reach the house of some one of Herr von Zehren's friends, would

have been mere madness now that the whole sky was reddened with the

still increasing conflagration, and the heath illuminated with a light

that almost equalled that of day. But one chance was left us; to keep

to the left along the strand as far as the promontory, there ascend the

chalk-cliff in the vicinity of the ruined tower, and so reach the

beech-wood of the park, which was but the continuation of the forest

which bordered the coast for about eight miles.

"If I can only get so far," said he; "my arm begins to grow very

painful."

Now for the first time I learned that he was wounded in the arm. He had

not known it himself at first, and then supposed he had only struck it

against some sharp projecting bough, until the increasing pain showed

what was really the matter. I asked him to let me examine the wound;

but he said we had no time for anything of that sort, and I had to

content myself with binding up the arm as firmly as I could with his

handkerchief, which indeed did but little good.

Here among the dunes I remembered for the first time that I had

ammunition in my pocket, and by his direction I reloaded the pistols. A

shudder came over me when he handed me his, and I touched the cold wet

steel. But it was not blood, though in the red light it looked like it:

it was but the moisture from the damp atmosphere still heavy with rain.

We emerged from the dunes upon the strand, in order to proceed more

rapidly over the hard sand. The light was now, when apparently all the

buildings were involved in the conflagration, so strong that a dull

crimson glow, reflected from the reddened clouds, was thrown far out to

sea. Even the lofty and steep chalk-cliffs under which we were

presently passing, looked down upon us strangely in the strange light.

There seemed something unearthly and awful in it; despite the

considerable distance at which we were, notwithstanding that hills and

woods lay between, notwithstanding that we were passing under the

shelter of cliffs more than a hundred feet high, the light still

reached us and smote us, as if what had been done, had been told by the

earth to the heavens, and by the heavens to the sea; and earth, sky,

and sea called out to us--For you there is no escape?

CHAPTER XX.

Some feeling of this kind must have been in the breast of the unhappy

man at my side, for he said once or twice, as we clambered up the

ravine, up which a steep path led between thick bushes from the strand

to the top of the cliffs, "Thank God, it is dark here at least!"

During the ascent he had several times complained of his arm, the pain

of which had now grown intolerable, and at last he was scarcely able to

move forward, although I supported him as well as I could. I hoped that

when we reached the top, and he had rested a little, the strength of

which he had already given such extraordinary proof, would return; but

no sooner had we gained the plateau than he sank fainting into my arms.

True, he instantly recovered and declared that it was but a momentary

weakness, and that the attack was over; but still he could hardly

stand, and I was glad when I succeeded at last in getting him to the

ruin, where an excavation, half filled with rubbish, between the walls,

offered at least some protection from the east wind, which blew sharp

and bitter cold over the ridge.

Here I begged him to sit down, while I descended the ravine, where

about half-way from the top there was a tolerably abundant spring, at

which we had made a short pause in our ascent, to get him some water,

as he complained of a burning thirst. Fortunately, on account of the

rain, I had put on in the morning the oil-skin hat which I had on at my

arrival at Zehrendorf, but had not since worn, as Constance expressed

such a dislike to it. This hat now served me for a bucket, and I was

glad when I succeeded with some difficulty in filling it to the brim. I

hurried back as fast as I was able without spilling the precious fluid,

full of anxiety for the man to whom my heart drew me all the more

powerfully, as calamity smote him with such terrible blows. What would

become of him if he were not able soon to continue the flight? After

what had happened at the edge of the morass, no exertion would be

spared to take us; and that an amply sufficient force could be

employed, was but too certain. The second pass had been beset by

soldiers; that I had plainly seen. How long a time would elapse ere

they came up here? If we were to escape, we must be at least six or

eight miles from here before morning, and I thought with a shudder how

he had twice fainted in my arms, and the wild words in which he had

asked for water "that was not burning: it must not be burning." Perhaps

he might revive after quenching his thirst. I had so firm a faith in

the inexhaustibility of his strength.

Thus I tried to encourage myself as I hastened carefully to the ruin

with the water in my hat, and from dread of stumbling scarcely cast a

glance in the direction of the beech-wood, over which the flames were

still glowing. While still at some distance, I thought I heard Herr von

Zehren's voice calling my name, then resounded a shrill laugh, and as I

rushed up in terror, I saw the unhappy man standing at the entrance to

the excavation, his face turned to the fire, gesticulating wildly with

his uninjured arm, and now pouring out execrations, now bursting into

frenzied laughter, or calling for water "that was not burning." I drew

him in deeper between the walls, and made him a kind of bed of the

heath that grew thickly around, over which I spread my coat. Upon

recovering from a brief swoon into which he again fell, he drank deeply

of the water, and then thanked me in a voice the gentle tone of which

singularly contrasted with his previous shrill vociferations, and

deeply moved me.

"I fancied," he said, "that you too had abandoned me, and I must perish

miserably here like a wounded stag. Is it not strange that the last

Zehren who is worthy of the name, here, from the ancient fortress of

his ancestors, now a pile of ruins, must watch the house that later

generations built, consumed by the flames? How did it take fire? What

do you suppose? I have many other questions to ask you, but I feel so

strangely--such strange fancies pass through my head. I never felt thus

before; and my arm too is very painful. I think it is all over with the

Wild Zehren--all over, all over! Let me lie here, George, and die

quietly. How long will it be before the fire eats its way through the

subterranean passage, and the old Zehrenburg flies into the air?"

Thus reason and madness contended in his fevered brain. Now he spoke

connectedly and intelligently of what was next to be done, as soon as

he had recovered his strength a little, and then he suddenly saw Jock

Swart lying before him on the ground, and again it was not Jock but

Alfonso, the brother of his wife, whose heart his sword had pierced.

And yet--and I have often reflected upon this, while pondering over the

singular character of this man--these terrible memories recurring in

his delirium were accompanied with no words that indicated the

slightest remorse. On the contrary, they had been rightly dealt with,

and so should it be with all that ventured to resist his will. If they

had burned his house, all castles and villages for leagues around

should be ravaged by the flames. He would see if he could not punish

his vassals as he thought fit, if they dared to rise in revolt. He

would chastise them until they howled for mercy. Such utterances of his

haughty spirit, exalted to madness by the fever that was raging in his

veins, contrasted frightfully with the utter wretchedness of our

position. While in fancy he was charging through burning towns that his

wrath had given to the flames, his frame was shivering with ague, and

his teeth chattered audibly. The cold, which grew ever keener towards

daybreak, seemed to pierce to my marrow; and as often as the unhappy

man, whose head rested upon my lap, ceased for a while his ravings, my

head sank forwards or sideways to the cold wall against which I was

leaning; and with ever more painful exertions I strove against the

weariness which oppressed me with leaden weight. What would become of

us if my strength gave way? Indeed what would become of us as it was?

We could not remain thus. I was afraid that he would die in my arms if

I could get no assistance. And yet how could I go for help without the

risk of abandoning him to his pursuers? And how could I leave him now,

when he was wanting to dash his head to pieces against the stones, and

was craving to drink up the sea to assuage his consuming thirst?

During the night I had several times gone to the spring for water, and

when I brought it he was always very grateful. Indeed, towards daybreak

he grew much quieter, so that I indulged the hope that after all we

should soon be able to get away. At last, overcome by exhaustion, I

fell asleep, and must have slept some time, for the dawn was already

glimmering when I was awakened by the touch of a hand on my shoulder.

Herr von Zehren stood before me; I looked at him with horror. Now I saw

what he had suffered in that fearful night. His healthy bronzed face

was of a clayey pallor, his large brilliant eyes were dull and deeply

sunk in their sockets, his beard dishevelled, his lips white, and his

clothes torn and covered with dirt and blood. It was no longer the man

that I had known, but more like a spectre.

A faint smile played about his pale lips, and there was a touch of the

old vivacity in the tone of his voice, as he said: "I am sorry to have

to awaken you, my poor boy, but it is high time."

I sprang to my feet and put on my coat, which he had carefully laid

over my shoulders.

"That is, it is high time for you," he added.

"How so?" I asked, in alarm.

"I should not get far," he replied, with a sad smile; "I just now made

a little trial; but it is impossible."

And he seated himself on a projecting piece of the wall, and leaned his

head upon his hand.

"Then I also stay," I said.

"They will soon follow us up here."

"So much the more reason for my remaining."

He raised his head.

"You are a generous fool," he said, with a melancholy smile; "one of

those that remain anvils all their life long. What advantage in the

world could it be to me, that they caught you with me here? And why

should you give up, and let yourself be caught? Are you brought down to

nothing, and less than nothing? Are you an old wounded fox, burnt out

of his den and with the hounds on his track? Go, and do not make me

entreat you any more, for it hurts me to talk. Good-by!"

He reached me an ice-cold, trembling hand, which I pressed with tears

in my eyes, and said:

"How can you ask it of me? I were the vilest wretch alive to leave you

thus. Happen what may, I remain."

"It is my will that you leave me--I command you."

"You cannot--you must yourself feel that you cannot. You cannot command

me to cover myself with disgrace."

"Well then," said he, "I will make a confession to you. It is true that

it so happens that I cannot get away; but were I in condition to

escape, I would not and will not do it. I will not have a hue and cry

raised after me, and placards posted as if I were a vagabond or common

criminal to be hunted through the land. I will await their coming

here--here where my ancestors beat back so many an attack of the

shopkeepers. I will defend myself to the last; they shall not take me

from this place alive. I do not know what I might do, if I were

altogether alone in the world. Probably this would then not have

happened. I have paid dearly for the folly of trying to help my brother

in his distress. And then I have a daughter; I do not love her, nor she

me; but for this very reason she shall not be able to say that her

father was a coward, who did not know when it was time to die."

"Do not think of your daughter!" I cried, losing all my self-control.

"She has rent the single tie by which you were still bound to her." And

briefly and in hurried words I told him of Constance's flight.

My intention was to tear away at all costs every pretext that he might

allege for not doing what he considered unworthy a Zehren. It was most

inconsiderate in me to make such a disclosure to him at such a moment;

but my knowledge of human nature was then very slight, and my faculties

were confused by the anguish of the last thirty-six hours, and my fear

and distress for the unhappy man at my side.

And it seemed that my design had succeeded. He arose, as soon as I had

finished my hurried recital, and calmly said:

"Is it then so with me? Am I a vagabond, and my daughter dishonored? My

daughter a harlot, who throws herself into the arms of the very man

whose hand she cannot touch without dishonoring me? Then may I well do

what others would do in my place. But before we set out, get me another

draught of water, George. It will refresh me; and I must not fail soon

again. Make haste!"

I caught up the hat, joyful that I had at last persuaded him. When I

had gone a few paces he called me back again.

"Do not mind my giving you so much trouble, George. Take my thanks for

all."

"How can you speak so?" I said. "Step back out of the cold wind; I

shall be back in five minutes."

I started off at a run. There was no time to be lost; streak after

streak of pale light was appearing in the east; in half an hour the sun

would rise. I had hoped that by this time we would have been leagues

away in the depth of the forest.

The spring in the ravine was soon reached, but it gave me some trouble

to fill the hat. In the night I had trampled the earth around it, and

stones had rolled in, which nearly blocked it up. While I was stooping

over it and clearing away the obstructions, a dull report of fire-arms

reached my ear. I started and felt involuntarily for the pistol which

was still in my belt. The other I had left with him. Was it possible?

Could it be? He had sent me away!

I could not wait for the water; I was irresistibly impelled to hasten

back. Like a hunted stag I sprang up the side of the ravine, and

bounded over the plateau to the ruin.

All was over.

Upon the very spot where I had parted from him, where I had last

pressed his hand, he had shot himself. The smoke of the powder was

still floating in the excavation. The pistol lay beside him; his head

had fallen sideways against the wall. He breathed no more--he was quite

dead. The Wild Zehren knew where a bullet must strike if the wound was

to be mortal.

CHAPTER XXI.

I was still sitting, stupefied and incapable of reflection, by the dead

man, when the first rays of the sun, which rose with tremulous lustre

over the sea, fell upon his pallid face. A shudder ran through me. I

arose and stood trembling in every limb. Then I ran, as fast as my

tottering feet would bear me, along the path that descended from the

ruin to the beech-wood. I could not now say what my real intention was.

Did I simply wish to flee from this place of terror, from the presence

of the corpse whose glazed eyes were fixed upon the rising sun? Did I

wish to get assistance? Did I design to carry out alone the plan of

escape I had formed for both, and thus save myself? I do not now know.

I reached the park and the tarn, the water of which looked blackly

through the yellow leaves that yesterday's storm had swept from the

trees. In this water had drowned herself the wife of the man who had

borne her from her far-off home over her brother's corpse, and who was

now lying dead in the ruins of the castle of his forefathers. Their

daughter had thrown herself into the arms of a profligate, after

deceiving her father, and playing a shameful game with me. This all

came at once into my mind like a hideous picture seen in the black

mirror of the tarn. As if some pitiless god had rent away the veil from

the pandemonium which to my blinded eyes had seemed a paradise, I saw

at a glance the two last months of my life, and what they really were.

I felt a nameless horror, less, I think, of myself, than of a world

where such things had been, where such things could be. If it be true

that nearly every man at some time in his life is led or driven by

malignant demons to the verge of madness, this moment had come for me.

I felt an almost irresistible impulse to throw myself into the black

water which legend represented to be of unfathomable depth. I do not

know what I might have done, had I not at this moment heard the voices

of men who were coming down the path that led from the park. The

instinct of self-preservation, which is not easily extinguished in a

youth of nineteen, suddenly awaked within me. I would not fall into the

hands of those whom I had been since the previous evening making such

prodigious exertions to escape. In a bound I sprang up the bank that

surrounded the tarn, leapt down on the other side, and then lay still,

buried in the thick bushes and fallen leaves, to let them pass before

recommencing my flight. In a minute more they were at the spot I had

left. They stopped here, where the path branched off towards the ruin,

and deliberated. "This must be the way," said one. "Of course; there is

no other, you fool," said another. "Forward!" cried a third voice,

apparently belonging to the leader of the party, "or the lieutenant

will get there from the beach sooner than we. Forward!"

The patrol ascended the path towards the ruin, and I cautiously raised

my head and saw them disappearing among the trees. When I thought them

at a sufficient distance, I arose, and struck deeper into the wood. The

impulse to self-destruction had passed; I had but one desire, to save

myself; and the almost miraculous manner in which I had just avoided a

peril from which there seemed no escape, filled me with new hope, as a

losing player feels at the first lucky cast.

When we boys played "robbers and soldiers" in the fir-wood around my

native town, I had always managed to be of the robber party, and they

invariably chose me their captain. The duties of this office I had

always so discharged that at last none were willing to take the part of

soldiers. The boast that I had so often made in our merry sports, that

no one could catch me unless I allowed myself to be caught, was now to

be tested in deadly earnest. Unfortunately just now, when life and

liberty were at stake, the most important thing of all was wanting, the

fresh and inexhaustible strength that carried me through my boyish

exploits, and which now by reason of the terrible mental emotions of

the last twenty-four hours, and the excessive physical exertion I had

undergone, was well-nigh broken down. To my other sufferings, I was

tormented with gnawing hunger and burning thirst. Keeping always in the

thickest of the forest, I came upon no spring nor pool of water. The

loose soil had long since absorbed the rain of the previous day, and

the slight moisture that I was able to suck from the dead leaves only

increased my sufferings.

My intention had been to traverse the forest, which bordered the coast

for about eight miles, in its whole length, in order to place as much

distance as possible between me and my pursuers, before I made the

attempt to leave the island at any point to which chance might conduct

me. I had trusted that I should be able to accomplish this distance at

the latest by noon; but I was compelled to admit to myself that in the

condition in which I was, and which grew worse every minute, this was

no longer to be thought of. I had also formed no just conception of the

obstacles that impeded me. I had often before been in this forest, but

only for short distances, and I had never been compelled to keep to a

certain direction, and at the same time anxiously guard against every

possibility of being seen. But now, unless I made long detours, I had

to break through dense thickets scarcely penetrable even by the deer,

or again take a circuit which took me far out of the way, to avoid some

open space where there was no sufficient concealment. Then I had to

bury myself in leaves and bushes while I listened to discover whether

some sound that I heard really proceeded from human voices, and

to wait thus until all was again silent. More than once I came upon

forest-paths, where double caution was necessary; and with all I felt

my strength constantly diminishing, and looked forward with terror to

the moment when it should fail me altogether, and I should sink,

probably to rise no more. And to lie here dead, with wide-open, glazed

eyes, like what I had seen--by this time they had probably found him

and carried him down, and then in some fashion or other they must bury

him--but how long would I lie here in the depth of the forest before I

was found, unless it were by the foxes?

But why did I fly, after all? What had I then done to deserve such

extremity of punishment? What could they do to me worse than the

torments I was now suffering? And what was this? Here was a path that

in half an hour would bring me out of the forest. Possibly I might then

at once come upon the soldiers. So much the better; then there would be

an end of it.

And I really went some distance along the path, but suddenly I stopped

again. My father! what would he say when he saw me led by soldiers

through the town, and the street-boys shouting after me? No, no; I

could never bring that upon him; better that the foxes should devour me

than that!

I turned again into the forest, but ever more agonizing grew the strain

upon my fast-failing powers. My knees tottered; the cold sweat ran from

my face; more than once I had to stop and lean against a tree, because

all became dark before my eyes, and I feared that I should faint. Thus

I dragged myself for perhaps half an hour more--it was by my

calculation about two in the afternoon--when my long agony found

an end. In the edge of a small clearing which I had just reached,

stood a little hut, lightly constructed of branches and mats of straw,

looking almost like a dog-kennel, and which probably had been built by

wood-cutters or poachers. I crawled in, buried myself in the straw and

leaves with which the floor of the hut was deeply heaped, and which

happily were tolerably dry, and fell at once into a sleep which was

almost as heavy as death.

When I awaked it was quite dark, and it was some time ere I could

recollect where I was and what had happened; but at last I recovered

full consciousness of my desperate situation. I crept out of the hut

with great difficulty, for my limbs felt as if they were broken, and

the first steps I took gave me excruciating pain. This, however,

presently passed off. My sleep had somewhat refreshed me; but my

hunger, the cravings of which had aroused me, was now so torturing that

I resolved to appease it at every hazard, especially as I felt that

unless this was done, I must of necessity soon give way again. But how

was this to be done? At last I hit upon a plan to which nothing but my

desperation could have prompted me. I determined to keep to the left

through the woods, until I reached the open country, which I calculated

must happen in about an hour. I would then strike for the nearest

farm-house, and there either by fair means or foul get something to

appease my hunger, and perhaps also a supply for the next day.

Accident seemed to favor the execution of this plan. In a few minutes I

came upon a sort of road, which I followed, although it did not run in

the direction that I desired. But how great was my astonishment and my

alarm, as, in far less time than I had hoped, I emerged from the woods,

and by the starlight distinguished a region of country which I could

not by any possibility mistake. There on the right were the cottages

belonging to Herr von Granow's estate, Melchow; further on, embosomed

in stately trees, was the proprietor's house, and from a slight

eminence rose the white steeple of the new village church. Further to

the left, lower down in the valley, lay Trantowitz, and still further,

but on higher ground, had Zehrendorf stood. Indeed, as if to leave me

not an instant of doubt that I had got back to the old well-known

district of country, there suddenly sprang from the immense pile of

ruins where the castle had stood, a flame so high and so vivid that the

steeple of Melchow church glowed with rosy light. But there must either

have been little fuel left for the fire, or else in the day there had

been ample provision made for its extinction, for the flames sank again

immediately, the bright light vanished, and there only remained a

feeble glow, as from the embers of a burnt brush-heap in a field.

So at the sacrifice of all my strength, I had wandered about the whole

day in a circle, and now at night-fall found myself not far from the

spot from which I had started in the morning. This was not very

consolatory, but it was ridiculous; and I laughed--not very loud nor

cheerfully, it is true, but still genuine laughter. And at the same

moment the fancy seized me that perhaps my good genius had led me here

against my wishes. Where would I be less likely to be looked for than

exactly here? Where had I better friends than here at Trantowitz, for

example, where everybody at the house and in the village knew me; where

I could knock at any door and be sure to find help and relief. Besides,

the circumstance that during the entire day I had met no human

creature, to a certain extent assured me that the pursuit towards the

last had not been so hot, and finally I was at the point of starvation,

and had no choice left me, so I pushed on, almost carelessly, over the

fields to Trantowitz, for the first time since we had separated,

thinking seriously of the good Hans, and wondering what had become of

him. Had he overtaken the fugitives? Had there been a scene, as in that

night when the Wild Zehren was pursued and overtaken by the brother of

his mistress, and their blades crossed in the uncertain light of the

Spanish stars? Had blood flowed for the daughter, as well as for the

mother? Had Hans fallen a victim in his bad cause, or had he been

victorious? If so, what then? Were the officers of justice after him as

they were after me? Had they caught him, perhaps red-handed? Was he now

sitting behind bolts and bars?

I grew very sad at heart as this idea struck me. Hans behind bolts and

bars was a melancholy picture--one could as well fancy a polar bear

fireman on a steamer.

Without observing where I was going, I had approached the house nearer

than was necessary to reach the village. From the field a path led

across a dry ditch into a wilderness of about two acres extent, of

potatoe, cabbage, and salad-beds, blackberry thickets, and stunted

fruit-trees, which Hans, by a singular delusion, called his garden, and

prized highly because he here in winter shot the most hares from his

chamber-window. Towards this chamber, famous in all the country round,

my eyes involuntarily turned, and to my great astonishment I perceived

a faint glimmer of light in it. The window was open, and the light, as

I discovered upon a nearer approach, came from the sitting-room, the

door between the two not being closed. I listened, and heard the

clatter of a knife and fork. Could Hans be at home again already? I

could not resist the temptation, clambered through the window into the

chamber, looked through the door, and there sat Hans, just as I had

seen him the previous morning, behind a couple of bottles and an

immense ham, from which he raised his blue eyes at my entrance and

stared at me with a look of astonishment rather than alarm.

"Good evening, Herr von Trantow," I said.

I was about to say more, and explain how I had come, but involuntarily

I clutched a just-opened bottle with shaking hand, and drained it

before I set it down. Hans gave a nod of approval at my prompt recourse

to his universal specific. Then he arose without a word, went out and

closed the shutters of both windows, came in and bolted the door, took

a seat opposite to me, lighted a cigar, and waited in silence until my

ravenous hunger was appeased sufficiently to allow me to converse.

"Suppose in the meantime you tell me what happened to you," I said,

without raising my eyes from my plate.

Hans had but little to tell, and told that little in the fewest

possible words. He had galloped a couple of miles or so along the road

to Fährdorf--the only one which the fugitives could possibly have

taken--when he observed that his horse, who had so far exhibited no

signs of fatigue, began to fail. After riding another mile at a more

moderate pace, he was convinced of the impossibility of continuing the

pursuit. "The road was very bad," Hans said; "I am a heavy rider, and

the poor brute had probably had neither feed nor water for twenty-four

hours." So he dismounted and led the horse at a walk the nearest way to

Trantowitz, where he arrived safely at nightfall. "By the time I had

saddled my Wodan and ridden to Fährdorf," he said, "they were far away.

And then--it is always the way with me that I can never manage to do

what other men would do in my place; and----" Here he drained his

glass, refilled it, leaned back in his chair, and enveloped himself in

a cloud of smoke.

The good Hans! he had meant all for the best--even his plan of smashing

the skull of our happy rival. How could he help it if on this occasion,

as so often before--always in his life indeed--he rode a slow horse? He

could not founder the animal in a cause which really did not concern it

in the least.

About eight o'clock, while he was sitting in his room, he saw the light

of the fire, and saddled Wodan and hurried to it, followed by all his

wagons. Men came over with wagons and fire-engines from the other

estates; but it was not possible to save anything; old Pahlen, who no

doubt had no difficulty in eluding the vigilance of the stupid

stable-boy, had done the work too well--the flames burst from all parts

of the building at once. "I rode home," he went on, "and went to bed,

and waked up this morning. I don't know why, I had much rather never

have awaked again."

Poor Hans!

This morning, for the first time, he had learned from his men what had

happened; how the night before, the officers of the customs, with the

assistance of half a company of soldiers, had hunted down the

smugglers; and that they had caught four or five, who would all be

hung. And a soldier had sunk in the morass, one of the custom-house men

had been wounded, and Jock Swart shot dead. Herr von Zehren had been

found dead this morning at the ruin. That it was a lucky thing for him

not to have lived to learn that his daughter had run away, and that the

old Pahlen, whom the stable-boy Fritz and Christian Halterman had

caught in the act, had set fire to his castle and burned it to the

ground. And they would have hanged him, just as they meant to hang

George Hartwig, the son of customs-accountant Hartwig at Uselin, who

had been the captain of the smugglers, as soon as they caught him.

Hans filled my glass again, and invited me by an expressive look to

empty it at once, as if so I could best afford him the consolatory

assurance that they had not hanged me so far.

Now it was my turn to relate. Hans listened, silently smoking; but when

I described the death of the Wild Zehren, and how I had last seen

him--dead, with his pale face turned to the rising sun, the first beams

of which fell in his glazed eyes--he sighed deeply, rocked his great

head from side to side, and drank deep draughts of wine.

"And now, what do you advise me to do?" I said, at last.

"What is your own idea?" asked Hans.

That my position was a most serious one, even Hans perceived. I had

forced Pinnow, pistol in hand, to take me with him; I had taken the

most direct and most active part in the expedition; I had fired upon

the officers; I had accompanied Herr von Zehren in his desperate

flight. In the eyes of the law these were far from being meritorious

performances; and the less I came into contact with the law henceforth,

the better it would be for me.

"And yet," I said, "would that this were my greatest trouble; but my

father would never outlive the shame of having a son in the

penitentiary; and therefore I am resolved to fly, though it were to the

uttermost parts of the earth."

Hans nodded approbation.

"What if I went to America?"

So brilliant an idea as this, which at a blow removed all the

perplexities of the situation, secured the instantaneous adhesion of

Hans.

CHAPTER XXII.

But the most dazzling ideas are frequently found to have their dark

side when it comes to putting them in execution. The financial question

Hans thought he had settled when he went to his desk, which was

not--and apparently could not be--locked, took out a box, and poured

its contents between us on the table. There were from four to five

hundred _thalers_ in gold, silver, and treasury notes, mixed up with

invitations to hunting-parties, receipted and unreceipted bills,

dance-cards (apparently from an earlier time), samples of wool,

percussion-caps, and a few dozen buckshot, which rolled upon the floor

and awaked Caro, who had been asleep under the sofa, and now crept

forth, yawning and stretching, as if he considered that buckshot

belonged to his department.

Hans said that he had at the moment, so far as he knew, no more in the

house; but if it was not sufficient, he would search his coats, in

which he had from time to time found quite considerable sums between

the cloth and the lining.

I was much affected by Hans's kindness; but even were I to avail myself

of it, how was the flight to be accomplished? Hans had heard--and it

appeared only too probable--that search was being made for me

everywhere. How could I, without being seized, make my way to Bremen

or Hamburg or any other port from which I could get a passage to

America--at least so long as the pursuit was still hot?

After much consideration, Hans hit upon the following plan, the

inspiration to which sprang from his generous heart. I was for a while

to remain concealed in his house, until the first heat of the pursuit

was over. Then--always supposing that he was himself unmolested--we

would undertake the journey together, I being disguised as his coachman

or servant. The question now arose about the passport, without which,

as I knew, no one was allowed to go on board the ship. Here also the

inventive Hans found an expedient. A certain Herr Schulz, who had been

his overseer, had intended to emigrate the previous spring, and

procured the necessary papers, but had died before his project was

accomplished. These papers Hans had kept, and after some searching we

found them. It appeared from their contents that the emigrating

overseer was not nineteen, but forty years old; not six feet without

his shoes, which was my stature, but only four and a half; and

moreover, he was distinguished by being very deeply pitted with the

small-pox. Still, Hans was of opinion that they would not look into the

matter so closely, and a hundred _thaler_ note would reconcile all the

little discrepancies.

It was two o'clock by the time we had matured this ingenious plan, and

Hans's eyes were growing heavy with weariness. As he insisted that I

should sleep in his bed, I was obliged to leave him the sofa in the

sitting-room, on which he had scarcely stretched himself when he began

to snore. I covered him with his cloak, and went into his chamber,

where, tired as I was, I still took time to avail myself of the simple

apparatus for ablution that I found there, to my great comfort. Then

dressing myself again, I lay down on Hans's bed.

I slept soundly an hour or two, and as I awaked at the first gray

glimmer of dawn, a resolution with which I had lain down, arose clear

to my mind. I would go: the good Hans should not on my account be

brought into any more serious troubles. The longer I remained with him,

the greater was the probability that his complicity, which it was just

possible might remain concealed as things were, would be discovered,

and it would then appear in a so much more serious light. Besides, I

had in truth but little faith in the availability of the pass of the

deceased overseer of four feet and a half high; and finally, as a youth

of no craven spirit, I was possessed with the conviction that it was my

duty to take the consequences of my action, as far as possible, upon my

own head alone.

So I softly arose from the bed, wrote a few words of gratitude to Hans

for all his kindness, filled my game-bag with the remains of the

supper, stuck the note in the neck of a wine-bottle on the table, in

the assurance that Hans would not overlook it there, gave a parting nod

to the brave fellow who still lay in the same position upon the sofa in

which he had fallen asleep two hours before, patted Caro, who wished to

accompany me, and signified to him that I could not take him, took my

gun, and went out by the same window at which I had entered.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Food, drink, and sleep had completely restored my old strength, and I

was now in a condition to play my part in the game of "robbers and

soldiers" more successfully.

The following days--there were three or four of them--form a strange

episode in the history of my life; so that it often seems to me that I

cannot really have lived them, but must have read the whole in some

story-book. Yes, after so many years--there are thirty of them now--the

remembrance of those days comes before me like some story about the bad

boy who lost himself in the woods, and to whom so many uncomfortable

things happened there; and yet who drank so much sweet pure air, and

bathed in so much golden sunshine, that one would give who knows how

many stations in the monotonous turnpike of his orderly life, could he

but once experience such romantic suffering and happiness.

As if heaven itself was disposed to be good to the bad boy who,

whatever his errors, had erred but through youthful folly, and perhaps,

all things considered, was not after all so utterly bad, it sent him

two or three of the loveliest autumn days for his adventurous flight.

The recent rains had cleared the air to a crystalline transparency, so

that the remotest distance seemed brought near at hand. A flood of

bright but indescribably soft sunlight streamed from the cloudless sky,

and penetrated into the inmost recesses of the forest, where from the

huge old trees the yellow leaves silently floated down to the others,

with which the ground was already strewn. Not a sound was audible in

the sunny wilderness except the melancholy chirp of a yellow-hammer in

the thicket, or the hoarse cawing of a crow who regarded with disfavor

the gun which I was carrying, or the faint cry of cranes that, careless

of what was going on below, were winging high in air their proud flight

to southern lands.

Then again I lay in the heart of the forest upon some hillock, perhaps

a "giant's barrow," as they were traditionally called, and watched sly

Reynard steal out of his Castle Malepartus among the great stones, to

bask in the morning sun, while a few paces farther off his half-grown

cubs chased each other and rolled over and over in merry romp; or I

marked in the evening light a herd of deer crossing a clearing, the

stag in front with head proudly held aloft, and only lowered

occasionally to pick a peculiarly tempting tuft of herbage, while the

does came peacefully grazing after.

Again I stood on the heights, close to the verge of the steep

chalk-cliff, and looked longingly out over the blue sea, where on the

farthest horizon a little cloud marked the spot where the steamer which

I had been watching for an hour had disappeared, while in the middle

distance glittered the sails of a pair of fishing-boats. The speck of

cloud vanished, the white sails dwindled away, and with a sigh I turned

back into the forest, scarcely hoping now that I should succeed in

getting off the island.

Twice already I had made the attempt. Once at a small fishing village

that lay at the head of a narrow cove in a recess of the shore, and was

the picture of isolation and loneliness. But the men were all out

fishing; only a very old man and a couple of half-grown youths were at

home with the women and children. If the catch was a good one, it might

be two days before the men came back; and it was not likely then that

any one would take me so far. So said the old man, when I asked; while

a pair of red-haired children stood by staring at me with open mouths,

and an old woman came up and confirmed the man's statement, while the

sun sank below the horizon, and a cool breeze blew down the cove

towards the darkened sea.

It was the second day of my wandering. The first night I had passed in

a sheep-fold: I thought I might venture for once to sleep under a roof;

and the good wife to whom I made the proposal willingly gave up to me

the chamber of her son, who had sailed away three years before, and not

been heard of since. I might, very likely, have spent days in this

retired nook without being discovered; but the necessity of my getting

off the island was too pressing, and early on the next morning I set

out to try my fortune elsewhere.

My next trial was made in a large village. There were boats enough and

men enough there, but no one would take me; not even though I offered

ten dollars, half the money I had, for the short passage to the

Mecklenburg coast, where I might consider myself tolerably safe. I do

not know whether, as was possible, they knew who I was, or merely saw

something suspicious in the wild-looking young man with a gun on his

shoulder who asked a passage to another country; or whether, as I

seemed in such extreme haste, and appeared to have money, they merely

wished, by delay and apparent reluctance, to extort a higher fare. But

after an hour had been spent in parleying, and Karl Bollmann said he

was willing to take me, if Johann Peters would lend his boat; and

Peters, for his part, was ready to go, but only in Bollmann's boat; and

Christian Rickmann, who was standing by with his hands in his pockets,

said he would take me with his boys, but not for less than thirty

dollars; and all then held a whispering consultation together, during

which the whole population, women and children included, gathered

around--I thought it prudent not to await the result, but turned

abruptly away, and strode off towards the dunes. A half-dozen followed

me, but I showed them my gun, upon which they kept back.

The same day I had another proof that the pursuit for me was still kept

up, which indeed I had never doubted. It was towards evening, when

reconnoitring from the edge of the woods a piece of open country that I

had to cross, I caught sight of two mounted patrols on the road,

talking with a shepherd who had driven his flock upon the strip of

heath between the road and the woods. I observed that they several

times pointed to the forest, but the shepherd's answers seemed

satisfactory, for they presently rode away in the opposite direction,

and disappeared beyond some rising ground. When I thought them far

enough, I came out of my concealment and joined the shepherd, who was

knitting a long black stocking, and whose simple face gave a sufficient

guaranty of the security of the step. He told me, in answer to my

inquiries, that the patrol were on the track of a man who had committed

a murder. He was a tall young man, they had said, and a desperate

villain; but they would have him yet.

The lively imagination of the stocking-knitter had probably had

sufficient time in the interval between the departure of the patrol and

my appearance, to paint the portrait of the fugitive from justice in

the most frightful colors. At all events he did not recognize me, but

took me at once for what I gave myself out to be: a huntsman, who was

stopping on a visit at one of the neighboring estates, and not knowing

the country well, had lost his way. He gave me minute directions how to

find my way, thanked me for the coin I put in his hand, and dropped his

knitting in astonishment as he saw me, instead of following his

directions, strike across the heath into the forest.

The vicinity of the patrol had startled me, in fact, and I had

determined to pass this night in the woods. It was a bad night. Warm as

it had been in the day, it grew cold at nightfall, and the cold

steadily increased as the night advanced. In vain did I bury myself a

foot deep in the dry leaves, or try by brisk walking backwards and

forwards to gain a little warmth. The dense mist that arose from the

earth soaked my clothes through, and chilled me to the marrow. The long

hours of the autumn night crept on with dreadful slowness; it seemed as

if it would never be day. And in addition to these physical and almost

intolerable sufferings of cold, hunger, and fatigue, the recollection

of what I had recently gone through presented itself to me in ever more

frightful pictures the longer the night lasted, and the more hotly the

fever burned in my veins. While, half dead with fatigue, I staggered

backwards and forwards in a clear space between the trees, I saw myself

again on the moor at Herr von Zehren's side, with Jock Swart lying dead

at our feet, while the flames of the burning castle wrapped us in an

awful glare, so fearfully bright that it seemed the whole forest was

burning around me, while yet my limbs shivered and my teeth chattered

with cold. Then Herr von Zehren sat before me as I had last seen him

sitting, with the rising sun shining in his glazed eyes; and then again

it was not Herr von Zehren, but my father, or Professor Lederer, or

some other, but all dead, with glassy eyes open to the sun. Then again

I became conscious of my real situation, that it was dark night around

me, that I was excessively cold, that I had sharp fever, and that

despite the risk of discovery I must resolve to kindle a real fire

instead of the frightful visionary one which I still saw in my feverish

hallucination.

I had provided myself against this necessity with a large piece of

touchwood which I had broken out of a hollow tree and placed in my

game-bag. By its aid I succeeded after a while in kindling a pile of

half-dry wood, and I cannot describe the delicious sensation that

thrilled through me as at last a bright flame sprang up. The cheery

light drove back the fever-phantoms into the darkness from which they

had sprung; the luxurious warmth expelled from my veins the icy cold. I

dragged together great quantities of fuel; I could not sufficiently

luxuriate in the sight of the curling smoke, the leaping flames, and

the glittering sparks. Then I seated myself at my forest-hearth, and

resolved in my mind what I should do to escape a situation which I

clearly saw I could not long endure. At last I hit upon a plan. I must

make the trial to get away at some one of the points from which there

was a regular communication with the main-land, and which I had, on

good grounds, hitherto avoided; and the attempt must be made in

disguise, as otherwise I should be recognized instantly. The difficulty

was, how to obtain a suitable disguise; and here a happy thought struck

me. I had noticed in the chamber in which I had slept the previous

night, a complete sailor's dress hanging against the wall; very likely

the kind old woman would sell it to me. If thus disguised I could get

off the island, I was pretty confident that by a night-march I could

reach the Mecklenburg frontier; and once there, I would let chance

decide what was next to be done.

At early dawn I began to put this plan into execution; and although I

had a walk of eight or ten miles to the lonely fishing village, I

reached it just after sunrise. The good old dame would not hear of any

sale; I needed the things, and that was enough; perhaps some one in

some strange land might do as much for her son, if he was alive--and a

tear rolled down her aged wrinkled cheeks. My clothes and my gun--for I

had left my pistol at Hans's--she would keep for me; I should have them

any time that I came for them. I do not I know for what the kind old

creature took me; but no doubt she thought that I was in distress; and

she helped me thus because I said that this was the only way to help

me. The worthy soul! Later in my life it was in my power in some

measure to repay her kindness, if indeed a kind deed can ever be

repaid.

So I set out at once upon my way, which took me, through many perils,

directly across the island to a point where I determined to wait until

evening before entering Fährdorf, which I could reach in an hour.

Relying upon my sailor's dress, which fitted me perfectly, and, as I

thought, completely disguised me, I had chosen the ferry which led most

directly to Uselin. In this way, it was true, I should have to go

through my native town; but it was probable that just there I should be

least looked for; and at that time, I confess it, it took but a little

to rouse in me the old daring spirit which had already played me so

many an unlucky trick. With a grim satisfaction I imagined myself

pacing at night through the silent streets, and even considered whether

I should not write on the door of the _Rathhaus_[4] the old saying of

the Nuremburgers, and sign my name to it.

At nightfall I entered Fährdorf. I had missed the boat; but the next

one, which was the last, sailed in half an hour. As I had seen through

the window of the tavern that the large tap-room was almost empty, and

as I must of necessity strengthen myself for my night-journey, I

entered it, took my seat at the farthest table with my face to the

wall, and ordered some supper of the bar-maid.

The girl went to get it for me. On the table, beside the candle which

she had lighted, lay a beer-stained copy of the Uselin Weekly News of

the previous day--another cleaner copy is now lying beside the page on

which I am writing. I took it up, and my first glance fell upon the

following announcement:

NOTICE.

Frederick William George Hartwig, former pupil of and fugitive from the

Gymnasium in Uselin, strongly suspected of smuggling, of violent

resistance to officers of the Government, and of murder, has still,

notwithstanding every exertion on the part of the authorities, evaded

arrest. As it greatly concerns the public welfare that this apparently

most dangerous person should be brought to justice, he is hereby

summoned voluntarily to surrender himself; and all persons who may have

any knowledge of the place of concealment of the aforesaid Hartwig, are

called upon to give notice thereof without delay to the undersigned. We

also urgently and respectfully request the various authorities, both

here and abroad, to keep a strict watch for the aforesaid Hartwig,

(description at foot), to arrest him promptly, should he be discovered,

and forward him to us at our expense, under the assurance of the

readiest reciprocity on our part in a similar case. (Signed)

Heckepfennig.

District of * * *

Uselin, November 2, 1833.

I will not copy the description that followed. The reader could learn

from it nothing except that at that time I rejoiced in dark-blond,

curly hair ("sorrel-top" the boys used to call me when they wanted to

tease me), stood six feet without my shoes, and, as a well-finished

specimen of humanity, had no special marks, or at least none in the

eyes of Herr Justizrath Heckepfennig.

But in truth, at this moment so critical for me, I scarcely noticed the

description of my person; the Notice occupied all my thoughts. When,

the evening before, the shepherd said that the man whom the patrol were

after was charged with murder, I did not believe it for a moment. He

was such a simple-looking fellow, that I thought the patrol had been

telling him a frightful story to scare him, or to enhance their own

importance. But here it stood in large clear letters in the _Weekly

News_, which, as but few other papers had ever fallen into my hands,

was always to my uncritical youthful mind invested with a certain

magisterial authority--I might almost say, bore the stamp of

infallibility. "Suspected of murder!" Was it possible? Was I then

looked upon as the murderer of Jock Swart? I, who had thanked God when

I saw the man at whom I had fired, limping briskly off? I, whose only

consolation in these last days of suffering, was that at the worst no

man's death weighed upon my conscience? And here it was proclaimed to

all the world that I was a murderer!

The bar-maid brought the refreshment I had ordered, and I think advised

me to waste no time, as the ferry-boat would soon start. I scarcely

heard what she said, but left my supper untouched, and sat staring at

the paper, which I had hastily turned over as the girl entered, as if

my printed name might betray me. But on the other side it again

appeared in a paragraph headed _City Items_. The paragraph ran thus:

"Yesterday evening, in some unaccountable way, a rumor got afloat that

George Hartwig, whose name is now in everybody's mouth, had taken

refuge in the house of his father, Customs-Accountant Hartwig, and was

there in hiding. An immense crowd, of probably more than a hundred

persons, assembled in consequence in the Water street, and tumultuously

demanded that the young criminal should be given up to them. In vain

did the unhappy father, standing on his threshold, protest that his son

was not in his house, and that he was not the man to obstruct the

course of justice. Even the vigorous exertions of those dauntless

public servants, officers Luz and Bolljahn, were ineffectual; only the

eloquent appeals of our respected mayor, who had hurried to the spot at

the first news of the disturbance, succeeded at last in dispersing

the excited crowd. We cannot refrain from earnestly warning our

fellow-citizens of the folly and lawlessness of such proceedings,

although we willingly admit that the affair in question, which

unhappily seems to assume even more serious proportions, is of

a nature to strongly excite the minds of all. But we appeal to the

men of intelligence--that is to say, to the great majority of our

fellow-citizens--and ask them if we cannot repose the fullest

confidence in the authorities? Should we not be convinced that the

public welfare is in better keeping in their hands than in those of a

thoughtless, ungoverned mob? And in reference to the occurrence of

yesterday, we earnestly appeal to the good feeling of all well-meaning

persons. Let them remember that the father of the unhappy George

Hartwig is one of our most respectable citizens. He would, as he

declared, and as we for our part firmly believe, be the last to

obstruct the course of justice. Fellow-citizens, let us respect this

assurance; let us respect the man who gave it. Let us be just,

fellow-citizens, but not cruel. And before all, let us take care that

the reputation of good-order and of a law-abiding spirit which our good

old town has so long enjoyed, be not lost through our fault."

The well-known signal summoning the passengers on board, now sounded

from the wharf, and at the same moment the girl came in again and told

me I must make haste.

"But you have not eaten a bit!" she exclaimed, and stared at me with

surprise and alarm. I suppose that I looked very pale and agitated. I

muttered some reply, laid a _thaler_ on the table, and hurried from the

house.

Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, the boat was crowded with

passengers. On the forward-deck were standing two saddled horses, which

could only belong to the mounted patrol; and I soon discovered their

riders, who were the same that I had seen talking to the shepherd, as I

gathered from their conversation with a couple of peasants. They were

complaining bitterly of being recalled, for they were sure, they said,

that they would have caught the villain, who must be somewhere hidden

on the island, though six more besides themselves, two on horseback and

four on foot, had searched it through in every direction. Now the

others would gain the reward, while they were sent for to keep order in

the town, which was no affair of theirs; there were Bolljahn and Luz to

attend to that duty.

I sat quite near them, and could hear every word they said; and I

thought what delight it would give the brave fellows if I were suddenly

to stand up and say, "here's the villain." But I could not afford them

that pleasure; what I had resolved to do, must be done voluntarily. So

I kept quiet, and it never occurred to the wise servants of the law

that the young sailor who was listening to them with such apparent

interest was the man they were looking for.

The wind was fair, and the passage quick; in half an hour the boat

reached her wharf. The horses pawed, the patrolmen swore, the

passengers crowded out of the boat, and went up the wharf with their

luggage. At the upper end of the wharf, just by the gate, stood fat

Peter Hinrich, the landlord of the sailor's tavern, and asked me if I

would not lodge in his house. I said I had a lodging engaged elsewhere.

So I passed through the ruinous old port-gate, which was never shut,

and entered the Water street. When I arrived at the small house, I

paused for a moment. All in the house was dark and silent, and it was

dark and silent in the street; but only two days before there had been

commotion enough here, and there upon the threshold my father had stood

and said that he was not the man to obstruct the course of justice. He

should not incur the suspicion of having concealed his son in his

house; he should see that his son had still some regard for his

father's good name, and that he had the courage to face the

consequences of what he had done.

The exhortations of the _Weekly News_ had not been in vain. The little

town seemed as if life had departed; the energetic Luz and Bolljahn,

with the best will in the world, could have found no field for their

activity. My steps resounded along the empty alleys, which struck me as

being singularly narrow and crooked. Here and there was light in the

windows; but folks went early to bed in Uselin, and the authorities

could therefore extinguish the street lamps at a very early hour,

especially when, as now, the new moon over St. Nicholas's church looked

sadly down through driving clouds upon the empty market-place.

I stood in the market-place before the house of Herr Justizrath

Heckepfennig. It was one of the stateliest mansions in the town. How

often had I passed it when I came out of school at mid-day, and cast a

glance of respectful longing at the left-hand corner-window in the

second story where Emilie used to sit behind a vase of gold-fish, and

always happened, just as I passed by--a little dim window-mirror gave

her faithful notice--to have her attention attracted by something in

the market. Now I again looked up at the window, but with very

different feelings. There was a light in the room, which was the usual

sitting-room of the family. The justizrath used to smoke his evening

pipe there. I had a presentiment that the visit that he would presently

receive would cause it to go out.

The good people of Uselin did not usually fasten their street-doors

until they went to bed; but whether it was that the recent disturbances

so energetically and successfully contended with by the officers Luz

and Bolljahn had rendered greater precautions advisable; or whether the

justizrath, in his double capacity of wealthy man and officer of the

law, insisted upon a stricter rule in this matter--in any case his door

was fastened, and it was some time before my repeated ringing was

answered by a female voice that called through the keyhole in rather a

quavering tone to know who was there. My reply, "one who wishes

urgently to speak with the Herr Justizrath," did not seem by any means

entirely to satisfy the portress, who could be none other than the

pretty housemaid Jette. A whispering followed, from which I inferred

that Jette had brought the cook with her; then a giggling, and finally

the answer that she would tell her master.

I was patrolling up and down before the house in my impatience, when a

window opened in the sitting-room above, and the Herr Justizrath in

person, putting out his head a very little way indeed, repeated the

question of the housemaid, and received the same answer.

"What is your business?" asked the cautious man.

"I come from the island," I replied at a venture.

"Aha!" cried he, and closed the window.

For some days the justizrath had done nothing but give audience to

people who professed to be able to throw some light upon the great

mystery. A sailor or fisherman just from the island, and who urgently

desired to speak with him at ten o'clock at night, could come with but

one object: to make some important communication which might bring some

illumination into the obscurity of this mysterious affair. I for my

part believed that the justizrath had recognized me by my voice, and

that his exclamation meant: "So! here you are at last!" I was soon to

learn how greatly I was mistaken.

The door was opened, and I hastily entered. Scarcely had the light of

the candle which Jette was holding up in her hand, fallen upon my face,

when she gave a loud scream, dropped candlestick and all, and ran off

as hard as she could, while the cook followed her example, at least so

far as screaming and running went. The cook, who was an elderly female,

ought to have had more sense; but still she only knew me by sight, and

for a long time had heard nothing but horrors about me, so I cannot

blame her. But the conduct of the pretty Jette admitted of no defence.

I had always been very friendly to her, partly on her mistress's

account, and partly on her own; and she had always freely acknowledged

it, coquettishly smiling whenever I met her, saluting me with her

deepest curtsey whenever I entered the house, and now--but I had now

something else to think of than the ingratitude of a housemaid. I

passed through the dark hall, ascended the stair I knew so well, and

knocked at the door of the justizrath's study, which adjoined the

sitting-room, and to which he had doubtless betaken himself to receive

his late visitor.

"Come in!" said the justizrath, and I entered.

There he stood, just as I expected to find him, a tall,

broad-shouldered figure, wrapped in his loose flowered dressing-gown,

his long pipe in his hand, his low, narrow forehead wrinkled into deep

folds as he fixed his little stupid eyes with a look of curiosity upon

me at my entrance.

"Well, my friend, and what do you bring?" he asked.

"Myself," I answered, in a low but resolute voice, stepping up nearer

to him.

My presentiment that he would let his pipe go out was fulfilled by his

simply letting it drop upon the floor; and without saying a word he

caught up the skirts of his flowered dressing-gown in both hands, and

fled into the family-room.

There I stood by the broken pipe, and trampled out the glowing ashes

which had fallen upon the little carpet by the writing-table. While

engaged in this certainly not criminal occupation, I was startled

by a cry for the watch from the adjacent window that opened on the

market-place. It was the voice of the justizrath, but it had a very

hoarse and lamentable sound, as if some one had him by the throat. I

stepped to the door of the sitting-room and knocked.

"Herr Justizrath!"

No answer.

"Frau Justizrath!"

All silent.

"Fräulein Emilie!"

A pause, and then a frightened little voice that I had so often heard

laughing, and with which I had sung so many a duet in parties by land

and water, piped feebly out:

"What do you want?"

"Tell your father, Fräulein Emilie, that if he does not at once stop

calling the watch, and does not immediately come into his study, I

shall go away and not come back."

I said this in a tone in which resolution and politeness were so

blended, that I was sure it could hardly fail of its effect. I could

hear a whispered discussion within. The women seemed to be adjuring the

husband and father not to adventure his precious life in so manifest a

peril, while the husband and father sought to calm their terrors by

heroic phrases, such as, "But it is my duty," or, "It might cost me my

place!"

At last, assisted by these weighty considerations, duty triumphed. The

door slowly opened, and by the side of the flowered dressing-gown I

caught a glimpse of the cap of the Frau Justizrath, and of the

curl-papers of Fräulein Emilie, whose golden ringlets I had always

supposed a beautiful work of nature. But so many great illusions of

mine had been dissipated in the last few days, that this small one

might well go with the rest.

Hesitatingly the justizrath closed the door behind him, hesitatingly he

came a few paces nearer, stopped and tried to fix me firmly with his

eye, in which, after some difficulty, he almost succeeded.

"Young man," he began, "you are alone?"

"As you see, Herr Justizrath."

"And without weapons?"

"Without weapons."

"Without any weapon?"

"Without any weapon."

I unbuttoned my sailor jacket to convince my questioner of the truth of

my statement. The justizrath evidently breathed more freely.

"And you have come----?"

"To surrender myself to justice."

"Why did you not tell me so at once?"

"I do not think you gave me time."

The justizrath cast a confused glance at his broken pipe on the floor,

cleared his throat, and seemed not to know exactly what was to be done

in such an extraordinary case. There was a pause of silence.

The ladies must have inferred from this pause that I was engaged in

cutting the throat of the husband and father; at least at this moment

the door was flung open, and the Frau Justizrath, in night-gown and

night-cap, came rushing in and fell upon the neck of her spouse in the

flowered dressing-gown, whom she embraced with every mark of mortal

fear, while Emilie, who had followed close behind her, turned to me,

and with a tragic gesture of supplication, raised both her hands as

high as her curl-papers.

"Heckepfennig, he will murder you!" sobbed the nightgown.

"Spare, oh spare my aged father!" moaned the curl-papers.

And now the door leading into the passage opened. Jette and the cook

were curious to see what was going on, though at the peril of perishing

in the general massacre, and appeared upon the threshold wailing aloud.

This mark of courageous devotion so touched the night-gown that it

burst into a flood of hysterical tears, and the curl-papers tottered to

the sofa with the apparent intention of swooning upon it.

Here the justizrath showed, for the second time, how great emergencies

bring out the strength of great characters. With gentle firmness he

freed the flowered dressing-gown from the embrace of the night-gown,

and said in a voice that announced his resolve to do and dare the

worst: "Jette, bring me my coat!"

This was the signal for a scene of indescribable confusion, out of

which, in about five minutes, the victim of his devotion to duty

emerged victorious with coat, hat, and stick: a sublime sight, only the

effect was a little damaged by the hero's feet being still covered with

embroidered slippers, a fact of which he was not aware until it was too

late, when we were standing on the pavement of the market-place.

"Never mind, Herr Justizrath," I said, as he was about to turn back.

"You would not get away again, and we have but a few steps to go."

In fact the little old _Rathhaus_ was at the other side of the by no

means wide square, and the pavement was perfectly dry, so that the

victim of fidelity had not even to fear a cold in the head.

"Herr Justizrath," I said, as we crossed the market-place, "you will

tell my father, will you not, that I gave myself up voluntarily, and

without any compulsion; and I will never mention to any one a word

about the broken pipe."

I have spoken many foolish and inconsiderate words in my life, but few

that were more foolish and more inconsiderate than this. Just as I was

touching the point which I might say was the only thing in the whole

affair to which I attached importance, namely, to show my pride to the

father who had disowned me, I failed to perceive that I gave mortal

offence to a man who would never forgive, and had never forgiven me.

Who can tell what other turn the affair might have taken, if, instead

of my unpardonable stupidity, I had intoned a pæan to the heroic man

who knew how to guard himself from a possible and indeed probable

attack, and then did his duty, happen what might. But how could I know

that, young fool that I was?

So we reached the open hall of the _Rathhaus_, where in the day time an

old cake-woman used to sit in a chair sawed out of a barrel, before a

table where plum-buns and candies lay upon a cloth not always clean,

that was constantly fluttering in the wind that blew through the hall.

The table was now bare, and presented a very forlorn appearance, as if

old Mother Möller, and not only she, but all the cakes, plum-buns, and

candies of the world, had departed forever.

A desolate feeling came over me; for the first and only time this

night, the thought occurred to me that perhaps after all I had better

make my escape. Who was to prevent me? Assuredly not the slippered hero

at my side; and as little the old night-watchman Rüterbusch, who was

shuffling up and down the hall, in front of his sentry-box, in the dim

light of a lantern that swung from the vaulted roof. But I thought of

my father, and wondered if his conscience would not smite him when he

heard the next morning that I was in prison; and so I stood quietly by

and heard the night-watchman Rüterbusch explaining to Justizrath

Heckepfennig that the matter would be very hard to manage, since the

last few days so many arrests had been made, that the guard-house was

completely full.

The guard-house was a forbidding-looking appendage to the _Rathhaus_,

and fronted on an extremely narrow alley in which footsteps always made

a peculiar echo. No townsman who could avoid it ever went through this

echoing alley; for that gloomy appendage to the _Rathhaus_ had no

door, but a row of small square windows secured with iron bars and

half-closed with wooden screens, and behind them here and there might

be seen a pale, woe-begone face.

A quarter of an hour after the conversation between Herr Justizrath

Heckepfennig and night-watchman Rüterbusch had come to a satisfactory

conclusion, I was sitting behind one of these grated windows.

PART SECOND.

CHAPTER I.

This little alley by the _Rathhaus_, in which footsteps gave such a

singular echo, had never, even within the recollection of the most

ancient crow on the neighboring steeple of St. Nicholas's church,

enjoyed such a reputation for uncanniness as in the last two months of

this year, and the first two of the next. It was also observed that in

no previous winter had the snow lain so deep in it, and it grew dark

much earlier in the evening than had ever before been known. And Mother

Möller, the old cake-woman in the _Rathhaus_ hall, who always hitherto,

in the winter season, packed up her wares at the stroke of five, now

did it regularly at half-past four, because, as she affirmed, just as

it grew dark there was "what you might call a kind of corpsy smell

about," and her old table-cloth flapped about in a way no natural

table-cloth would do. On the other hand Father Rüterbusch, the

night-watchman, asseverated that for his part he had not observed

either in the hall or the alley anything out of the common, not even

between twelve and one o'clock, which was the fashionable hour with

ghosts, let alone at other times. Yet people were more disposed to

accept the views of the old cake-woman than those of the still older

night-watchman; as the first, though she took a nap now and then, still

on the whole was more awake than asleep; while in regard to the other,

the regular customers of the _Rathhaus_ cellar, who had to pass his

post at night, maintained precisely the contrary. By these assertions

they deeply wounded the good heart of Father Rüterbusch, but did not

confute him. "For, d'ye see," he would argue, "you must know that a

sworn night-watchman never goes to sleep, on any account; but it may

happen that he pretends to be asleep, in order not to mortify certain

gentlemen who would be ashamed if they knew the old man had his eye on

their doings. And mark you, I am willing to be qualified to what I say,

upon my oath of office; and none of them can say that. And even if many

of them, for instance Rathscarpenter Karl Bobbin, come and go the same

way every evening, that is to say every night, for nigh on to twenty

years now, a habit is not an office, mark you; and I for my part have

never heard, for example, that the customers of the cellar ever took

any oath or were qualified in any manner, shape, or form; and yet it

was only last Easter I celebrated my jubilee, for it was then fifty

years I had held this place, and I went to school with Karl Bobbin's

father, who was never of any account, for that matter."

However, be that as it might, during the winter of '33-'34, there was

but one opinion of the matter in Uselin; and that was, that if there

_was_ anything queer about the Rathhaus alley, nobody need wonder at

it, as things were.

Things were certainly bad enough, and worse for no one than for me,

who, as was admitted on all hands, was by far the chief figure in the

great smuggling case; for into such proportions, thanks to the

inquisitorial genius of the justizrath who had charge of the

investigation, a thing which to my eyes was of extreme simplicity had

now been developed.

As if it was of the least importance how the case looked in _my_ eyes!

As if anybody gave himself the trouble to inquire what _my_ thoughts or

wishes were! But no; I will do Justizrath Heckepfennig and co-referent

Justizrath Bostelmann no injustice. They gave themselves the very

greatest trouble; but they had no desire to find out where the truth

lay, and where I told them it might be found.

"Why had I left my father?" they asked.

"Because he ordered me out of his house!"

"A fine reason, truly! Angry fathers often tell their sons to be gone,

without the idea ever seizing the sons to start off into the wide

world. There must be something more behind. Perhaps you wanted to be

sent off?"

"To a certain extent I admit it."

"Perhaps you admit it unqualifiedly?"

"I admit it unqualifiedly."

"Very good. Actuary, please to take down the reply of the prisoner, who

admits without qualification that he wished to be sent off by his

father. And when and where did you first make the acquaintance of Herr

von Zehren?"

"On that evening at Smith Pinnow's."

"Had you never seen him before?"

"Never, to my knowledge."

"Not even at Smith Pinnow's? Pinnow declares that Herr von Zehren was

so often at his house, and you also so often, that it is incredible

that you never met before."

"Pinnow lies, and knows that he lies!"

"You still persist then that your meeting with Herr von Zehren was

entirely accidental?"

"Entirely."

"How much money had you about you when you left your father?"

"Twenty-five _silbergroschen_, as well as I can remember."

"And had you any prospect of obtaining anywhere a permanent position?"

"None."

"You had no such prospect, had but twenty-five _silbergroschen_ in your

possession, were anxious that your father should send you off, and yet

you persist in asserting that your meeting on that same evening with

the man who took you at once into his house, and with whom you stayed

until the final catastrophe, was purely accidental! You are sharp

enough to see how extremely improbable this is; and I now ask you for

the last time, if, at the risk of casting the strongest suspicions on

your veracity, you still persist in that statement?"

"I do."

Justizrath Heckepfennig cast a look at Actuary Unterwasser as much as

to say: Can you conceive such impudence? Actuary Unterwasser smiled

compassionately, and sadly shook his head, and scratched away with his

pen over his paper, as if his shocked moral sense found some relief in

getting such inconceivable things at all events down in black and

white.

Thus it went on with I do not know how many interrogations and

examinations; summary examination, examination in chief, articular

examination. Often I could not tell what they were aiming at, and what

was the object of all the long-winded interrogatories, and short

cross-questions, in which last Justizrath Heckepfennig considered

himself particularly great. I complained bitterly of this to my

counsel, Assessor Perleberg, saying that I had told--or, as they

preferred to express it, confessed--everything to the gentlemen.

"My dear sir," said the assessor, "in the first place it is not true

that you have confessed everything. For instance, you have refused to

say who was the person whom caller Semlow saw, about four o'clock on

the evening in question, with you on the path leading to Zehrendorf.

And in the second place, what is confession? In criminal jurisprudence

it has but a very subordinate value. How many criminals cannot be

brought to confess at all? and how many confessions are false, or are

afterwards recanted? The real object of the examination is the

detection of guilt. Consider, my dear sir, your entire so-called

confession might be a fabrication. It has often happened before, the

criminal record--"

It was enough to drive a man desperate. Years after, my counsel became

a great beacon and luminary of jurisprudence; and indeed he was such at

that time, though he was not then a professor, a privy-councillor, and

a man of wide reputation, but an obscure assessor of the superior

court, a very learned man, and of wonderful acuteness--a world too

learned and too acute for a poor devil like me. With his "in the first

place," and "in the second place," he would have prejudiced a jury of

angels against innocence herself, to say nothing of a college of

learned judges who could not avoid the conclusion that a man whose

defence required so extraordinary an expenditure of learning and

acumen, must of necessity be a very great criminal. I can still see him

sitting on the end of the table in my cell, which was fastened with

iron clamps to the wall, jerking his long, thin legs, and flourishing

his long, thin arms, like a great spider who finds a broken mesh in his

web. It was probably a hard task for so learned a spider, into whose

web a clumsy blue-bottle had blundered and was floundering about in his

awkward way, to extricate him with scientific nicety. And now for the

first time I began to find out how far-spreading this web was, and how

many flies, besides myself, were entangled in its meshes.

There were very careless flies that under the masks of respectable

citizens and honest tradesmen of my native place and the neighboring

towns, had for years carried on an extensive business in smuggled

goods, and defrauded the revenue of thousands upon thousands. This sort

of flies was very dirty and disgusting. For as soon as one had caught

its foot in the web, and found itself entangled, it turned traitor to

its companions, and did not rest until all were fast in the web.

Then there was another and honester species, though it was far from

wearing so honest an appearance. These were my old friends, the

weather-beaten, tobacco-chewing, silent men of Zanowitz and the other

fishing villages on the coast. They had by no means had so good a time

of it as the gentlemen in the counting-houses and behind the counters.

They had had to fight with wind and storm, to keep watch and ward, to

suffer hunger and cold, and carry their lives in their hand, and all

for small gain, many of them for only just enough to keep wife and

children from starving; and yet, though four of them had been taken

prisoners in that terrible night on the moor, the examiners could draw

nothing from them. No one betrayed his comrade; no one knew who had

been the man at his side. "The night was dark, and in the dark all cats

are gray; every man had enough to do to look to himself. If Pinnow has

said that this man and that man was there, why he can probably make

oath to it." In vain did the justizrath ask the most ingenious

questions, in vain did he wheedle and threaten--they had to let go a

dozen or two that were very strongly suspected, and console themselves

with the reflection that at all events they had four who had been taken

in the act.

Yes, it was a very peculiar sort of flies who had thus been caught with

the others in the web of law; a tough, rough sort, very inconvenient

for the guardians of the flesh-pots of an orderly government, but still

honest after their fashion, and not the sneaking crew that the others

were.

These two species of flies had for a long time played into each other's

hands, but without any proper system, and consequently at great

disadvantage, until, about four years before, the business had taken a

sudden and enormous expansion. For some one, who hitherto, like all the

proprietors along the coast, had obtained his wine, his brandy, his

salt, his tobacco, from the smugglers in small quantities, had hit upon

the idea that what was needed was an intermediary between the supply

and the demand; a middleman who should provide a sort of warehouse or

magazine for the smuggling trade, and thus afford the furnishers an

opportunity of getting rid of larger quantities at once, and the

purchasers the means of procuring their supplies as they needed them,

and at convenient times.

This plan, founded on the soundest commercial principles, begotten of

necessity, and joyfully welcomed by the naturally adventurous spirit of

the man, he carried out with the audacity, the judgment, and the

energy, which so highly distinguished him. The solitary position of his

estate upon the long promontory, with the open sea on one side and a

narrow strait on the other, was as if it had been made for the very

purpose. If before the dealings were in boat-loads, now whole ships'

cargoes were received at once, or in a couple of nights, and stored in

the cellars of his castle, from which they were gradually delivered to

the purchasers, the neighboring proprietors, and the tradespeople in

the small towns of the island and the little seaports of the mainland.

This part of the business was chiefly undertaken by Smith Pinnow. Smith

Pinnow had been long known to be a smuggler, had been frequently

overhauled by the officers of justice, and more than once punished,

when of a sudden he found that he was going blind, had to wear great

blue spectacles, and could only in very fine weather, with the help of

his deaf and dumb apprentice Jacob, take some of the bathing-guests at

Uselin out in his cutter for an hour or two's sail. This affliction

befel the worthy man just at the time that the great smuggler-captain

on the island, whose attention had been drawn to so highly qualified an

assistant, one night paid a visit to the forge, and took him, so to

speak, into his service. From that time forth the two acted in concert;

and by the time the four years had passed, the smith had amassed so

much money that he would never have thought of betraying his chief, had

not jealousy got the upper hand of the old sinner. "If you do not leave

the girl in peace, I will shoot you down like a dog," the Wild Zehren

had said; and Smith Pinnow was not the man to quietly put up with such

a threat, especially when he knew in what deadly earnest it was

uttered.

From that time a rumor, of which no one knew the source, spread abroad

in the city, but especially in the offices of the customs, that the

Wild Zehren at Zehrendorf was the soul of the whole smuggling trade,

which was carried on with such activity for leagues up and down the

coast. At first no one gave credit to the rumor. To be sure the Wild

Zehren was a man whose name was used as a bugbear to frighten children

with in Uselin; and no doubt things were known or believed of him which

people hardly ventured to whisper--he had stabbed his brother-in-law,

he had horribly maltreated his wife and afterwards drowned her in the

tarn in the woods, and more of the same sort--but these were things

that were to be expected of the Wild Zehren, while smuggling--no, it

was not possible! A man of the most ancient nobility, and whose brother

moreover was the highest officer of the Revenue Department in the

province!

This was the general opinion. But now and then there would be a voice

heard, but very softly indeed, remarking that however different the

brothers might be in disposition, mode of life, and even in person,

they resembled each other at least in this, that both were deeply in

debt; and similar causes might very well produce similar effects. If

the Wild Zehren's undertakings had been accompanied with such

extraordinary good fortune during these years, the reason probably was

that the custom-officers had no clue to his movements, while he, for

his part, was perfectly well informed when and where there was no risk

of meeting any of them.

The matter might still have been long quietly argued _pro_ and _con_,

had not an unlucky chance happened to give effect to Smith Pinnow's

treachery. In the same night when Pinnow and Jock Swart, who could

have turned traitor to his master from no other cause than sheer

black-heartedness, lodged their information with Customs-revisor Braun,

the provincial customs-director arrived in Uselin. The revisor, who

belonged to the party that distrusted their chief, did not go to the

latter, as he would certainly have contrived to render the denunciation

harmless; but went straight to the director, who at once laid his plans

with great skill and forethought, to strike a strong blow at the

smugglers, in which he succeeded but too well.

Was the steuerrath guilty? There was no direct proof of the fact, if it

was a fact. The steuerrath had always declared that for a long time he

had broken off all personal intercourse with his brother, whose

conduct--though in truth he was greatly reformed of late--was of a

nature to compromise a faithful public officer. And in truth, the Wild

Zehren had in the last year never been seen with his brother, nor even

in the city. If, notwithstanding, there had been any personal

intercourse between them, their meetings must have been kept extremely

secret. Any letters he might have received from his brother, the

steuerrath would of course have destroyed; and if the Wild Zehren was

less cautious, he was now dead, his castle burned to the ground--who or

what was there to bear witness against the steuerrath?

I was the only one who could have done it. I remembered well the

expressions which Herr von Zehren had always used in speaking of his

brother; I knew that this last expedition had been made chiefly on that

brother's account. I had held in my hands the proof of his guilt,

and--destroyed it.

It seemed as if something of the sort was suspected. Suddenly the name

of the steuerrath made its appearance in the examinations to which I

was subjected, and I was closely questioned as to what I knew of the

relations between Herr von Zehren and his brother. I firmly denied all

knowledge of anything of the kind.

"My dear sir," said Assessor Perleberg, "why do you wish to screen the

man? In the first place, he does not deserve to be spared, for he is a

bad subject, take him as you will; and in the second place, you thus do

yourself irreparable injury. I will tell you beforehand, you will not

get off with less than five years, for in the first place----"

"For God's sake let me alone!" I said.

"You grow less reasonable every day," said Assessor Perleberg.

And he was quite right; but it would have been a marvel had it been

otherwise.

I had been confined now for nearly half a year in a cell but half

lighted by a small grated window, and which I could traverse with four

steps lengthways and with three across. This was a hard trial for a

young man like me, but harder, much harder, were the mental sufferings

that I endured. The confidence in humankind which had hitherto filled

my heart, was all now gone. That no one visited me in my prison, I

could lay to the account of Justizrath Heckepfennig, who felt it to be

his duty to see that so dangerous a man held no communication with the

outer world; but that men to whom I had done nothing, or at the worst

had perhaps at some time or other, in my clumsy way, ruffled their

pride a little, should set their hearts upon trampling a fallen man

still deeper into the dust--this I could not forgive; this it was

that filled my soul with bitterness unspeakable. Ten witnesses were

called to prove my previous good character; and of these ten there was

but one, and that one the man whom of all others I had most deeply

wounded--Professor Lederer--who ventured to say some words in my

behalf, and to put up a timid plea for lenity. All the rest--old

friends of my father, neighbors, fathers whose sons had been my friends

and companions--all could hardly find words to express what a miscreant

I had been all my life long. And good heaven! what had I done to them?

Perhaps I had filled the pipe of one with saw-dust; I had caught a pair

of pigeons that belonged to another; the son of a third I had sent home

with a bloody nose--and this was all.

I could not comprehend it, but so much of it as I did understand,

filled me with inexpressible bitterness, which once even broke out into

indignant tears when I learned through my counsel that Arthur--the

Arthur whom I had so dearly loved--when interrogated as to his

association with me, declared that for years I had talked to him about

turning smuggler, and had even attempted to persuade him to join me;

that I had always been on the most intimate terms with Smith Pinnow,

and that if he were asked if he believed me capable of the crime laid

to my charge, he must answer unequivocally Yes.

"That ruins you," said Assessor Perleberg. "You will not get off under

seven years; for in the first place----"

I brushed away the tears that were streaming down my cheeks, burst into

a wild laugh, and then fell into a paroxysm of frantic rage, which

finally gave place to a stony apathy. I still felt a kind of interest

in the sparrows that I had taught to come every morning and share my

ration of bread; but all other things were indifferent to me. I

learned, without feeling any special interest in the news, that

Constance was already deserted by her princely lover, who had yielded

to the entreaties and threats of his father; that Hans von Trantow had

disappeared and no one knew what had become of him, but the general

opinion was that he had met with some accident in the forest or on the

moor; that old Christian had never recovered from the effects of his

young mistress's flight, his master's death, and the burning of the

castle, and had been found one morning lying dead among the ruins which

he could never be prevailed on to leave; and that old Pahlen had

escaped from the jail at B. in which she had been confined. I heard all

this with indifference, and with similar apathy I received my sentence.

Assessor Perleberg, with his "first place" and "second place," had been

perfectly right. I was condemned to seven years' imprisonment in the

prison at S.

"You may think yourself lucky," said Assessor Perleberg. "I would

have condemned you to ten years and to hard labor; for in the first

place----"

It was no doubt a mark of youthful levity that I had no ears for the

very learned and instructive exposition of my counsel, and that too

when it was my last opportunity. But I was really thinking of something

quite different. I was thinking what the Wild Zehren would have done

had he been alive and learned that they had shut up his faithful squire

in prison and placed his own brother as jailor over him.

CHAPTER II.

It was an evening of May, as the wagon in which I was conveyed,

escorted by two mounted gendarmes, drew near the place of my

destination. On the left of the road, which was lined with stunted

fruit-trees, I saw numbers of laborers working on the new turnpike

which was to connect my native town with the provincial metropolis; on

the right, open meadow-land stretched away to the sea, which was

visible as a wide dark-blue streak. On the other side of the water,

from a low beach of sand, green fields sloped upwards to a moderately

high upland which was crowned with woods. This was the island, which

here lay much nearer the mainland than it did near Uselin, and which I

now beheld again for the first time. Before me, still more than a mile

distant, I could perceive two towers rising high above a range of hills

that we were slowly approaching.

My feelings were strange. During the whole journey I had been looking

through the rents in the cover of the little wagon, but only watching

for an opportunity of escape. But however determined I was to seize the

very first that presented itself, there was none, not even the

slightest. The two gendarmes, of whom one was one of those who had

hunted me in vain upon the island, rode on the right and left close

behind the wagon without exchanging a word, their moustachioed faces

looking straight between their horses' ears, or turned sideways towards

the wagon. There was not the slightest doubt that the first movement

that looked like an attempt to escape would bring the butts of their

carbines to their shoulders. To make the attempt in the presence of two

well-armed, well mounted, and thoroughly determined men, would have

been to seek, not liberty, but death.

And none of the chances had happened which I had imagined possible. We

had passed no bridge over which I might have leapt into a torrent, we

had entered no crowded market-place in which I might have sprung into

the throng, and perhaps found shelter with some compassionate soul.

Nothing of the kind; we travelled the seven or eight miles of the

journey at a walk, or a short trot, without a single halt, and without

an interruption of any kind, and now before me rose the towers in whose

shadow lay my prison.

And yet at this time I no longer felt the wrath and burning indignation

which had filled my breast the whole time that I was in custody under

examination. The two hours in the open air had done me inexpressible

good. It had been raining for some time before, and I had held out my

hands to catch the drops; I had inhaled with delight the fresh air that

blew into the wagon. Now the sun had again broken through the clouds,

and, as it was near its setting, cast long ruddy streaks over the green

sprouting fields and the sparkling meadows. Birds sang and twittered in

the trees by the wayside; just before us in the east stood a brilliant

rainbow with one foot on the mainland, and the other on the island. All

nature seemed so calm and gentle, so free from hate or anger; on the

contrary all things wore so mild a beauty and breathed such sweet

peace, that I who from a child had sympathized with every mood of

nature, could not close my heart to her soft solicitations. My heart

sang with the birds; it floated on the moist pinions of the gentle

breeze that bore blessings over the fields and meadows; it bathed in

the bright hues of the bow of hope, which sprang from earth to heaven

and back to earth again. The feeling that I was, as it were, a part of

all these, and yet was sitting a prisoner in the jail-van, begat in me

such a sense of pity for myself as I had never before experienced. I

covered my face with my hands and wept.

The sun had now set; the eastern and western skies were glowing with

the most splendid hues as the van rolled through the town-gate, rattled

up two or three narrow, badly-paved streets, and stopped at last at a

gateway in a high dead-wall. The gate slowly opened, the van rolled

across a wide yard shut in on all sides with lofty blank walls and

tall, gloomy-looking buildings, to the gate of the tallest and most

forbidding of these, and there stopped. I had reached the place where I

was to spend seven years because I had endeavored to guard my friend

and protector from the results of a crime which I myself abhorred.

Seven years! I was determined that it should not be so long. I had read

the adventures of Baron Trenck, and knew that it was possible to pierce

thick masonry and undermine great fortress-walls. What he had succeeded

in doing, I thought I could not fail to accomplish.

So my first proceeding, when the door closed behind the surly warden,

was to examine my cell as closely as the faint remains of daylight

would allow. If all the prisoners were so well lodged, there were

certainly many of them that fared much worse when at liberty. The walls

of the small room were simply whitewashed, it is true; but so were

those of my garret at home. There was an iron bedstead with what seemed

a very comfortable bed, a clothes-press, at the solitary window a large

table with a drawer, two wooden chairs, and, to my surprise, a great

arm-chair covered with leather, which strongly reminded me of the one

in my room at Castle Zehrendorf.

Yes, I was again the guest of a Zehren, though this time he was only

the superintendent of a prison. It seemed as if the Zehrens were

inextricably woven into my life. They had brought me but little good

fortune; and the proud lustre that had formerly seemed to me to illume

the name, had greatly paled in my eyes. The steuerrath, in whom the boy

had beheld the incarnation of the highest earthly authority, what

was he in the eyes of the prisoner but a liar and hypocrite who had

ten-fold and a hundred-fold deserved the misfortunes he had brought

upon men who were better than he? And the man here, who, sprung from

such a family, had been willing to undertake such an office as his,

must be even worse than the hypocrite and liar. I would let him feel

the full measure of my contempt when I met him; I would tell him that

if he chose to be a jailor, he ought at least to renounce the name

which his noble brother had borne, who preferred dying by his own hand

to falling into the hands of those who would have brought him here,

behind this triply-bolted door, and these windows with massive bars of

iron.

The window was by no means so high as those in the guard-house, and I

looked with curiosity through the bars. The prospect might have been

worse. True, a high and perfectly blank wall shut out the view to the

left, but on the right I could see into a court planted with trees, in

which at no great distance was a two-storyed house presenting a gable

covered entirely with vines. Behind the house there seemed to be a

garden: at least I could catch glimpses of fruit-trees in blossom. All

this had a very lovely and peaceful appearance in the dim light of the

spring evening; and the shrill twittering of the swallows that skimmed

in flocks past my window, might have made me forget that I was a tenant

of a prison, had I not been painfully reminded of it by the sharp angle

of one of the bars against which I had pressed my forehead.

I seized the bar with both my hands, and shook it with my whole force.

Six months of confinement had not deprived my muscles of their

strength, as I well perceived. I felt as if with one wrench I could

bring away the whole grating. Did I deceive myself, or did it yield

a little? I was not mistaken; either the screws were loose, or the

wood-work decayed; I could not at the moment determine which; but this

seemed no grating that could hold me. My heart beat with the exertion

and the joyful surprise. I had vowed to myself that they should not

keep me seven years! But caution! it was not the grating alone that

made a prisoner of me. Were the grating away, there was a depth of at

least thirty feet to the stone pavement of the court. And were I safely

down, there were doubtless other difficulties to overcome, and a

baffled attempt at escape might make my position incalculably worse.

I heard a rustling in the passage. Footsteps drew near and came to my

door. I sprang back from the window and stood in the centre of the

room, when there was a rattling of keys on the outside, the door

opened, and a man of tall stature entered, passing the turnkey, and the

door was closed after him. He stood for a moment at the threshold, and

then approached me with a peculiar light step. From the ruddy evening

clouds there still fell a pale rosy light into the room; in this rosy

glow I always see him again when I think of him--and how often do I

think of him, with the deepest emotions of gratitude and love!

Over the table at which I am writing these words, hangs his portrait,

painted by a beloved hand. It is a most perfect likeness. It would

recall to my memory every feature, every line, were it possible that I

could forget them. And now, did I close my eyes, he would stand before

me again as he stood on that evening, in the rosy sunset light, and not

less clearly would I hear his voice, whose soft, deep tone I then heard

for the first time, and whose first word was one of pity and sympathy.

"Poor youth!"

How deeply must the prison air have poisoned my heart, that these words

and the tone in which they were spoken did not move me! Alas, it is one

of my most painful recollections that this was so; that I rudely

repulsed the hand of the noblest of men, and deliberately wounded the

kindest heart on earth. But the narrative of my life would have no

worth, if my faults were not honestly set down. And I have often

thought that I might not have learned to love him so well had I been

less obdurate at first, had I not given him the occasion to heap upon

me all the wealth of his benevolence and love. And yet I err in this.

Jewels of the costliest price, of the purest water, need no dark foil.

"Poor youth!" he said again, and held out his white and almost

transparent hand; but let it fall again, when, instead of taking it and

pressing it with reverence to my lips, as I should have done had I

known him, I folded my arms and stepped back.

"Yes," he said, and his voice sounded, if possible, still gentler than

before, "it is very hard, very cruel, the fate which has befallen you

for a crime which, whatever it may be in the eyes of the judge who must

follow the stern letter of the law, in the eyes of others merits a

milder name, for at least it does in mine. I am the brother of the man

for whose fault you are suffering."

He seemed to expect an answer from me, or at least some word of

acknowledgement, which I would not give. I would not do my jailor the

favor to help him in his attempt to show himself in another light than

that in which I saw him.

"It is a strange caprice of fortune," he continued, after a short

pause, always in the same gentle manner, "that one brother should to a

certain extent be the instrument of punishing you for the injury which

another has done you--a chance for which I am thankful, and which I

think I shall rightly employ by--but of this another time. To-day the

gloomy shadow of the first dreary impression a place like this must

make upon a spirit like yours, lies too heavily upon you; though I

could speak with the tongues of angels, I could find no entrance to

your heart, which is closed by anger and hatred. I have merely come to

perform a duty which my office and I may say my heart prescribes. And

this also is my duty, so that you may freely answer me without feeling

that your pride is making concessions. Have you any wish that it is in

my power to grant?"

"No," I answered, "for you could hardly give me a day's shooting over

the heaths of Zehrendorf."

A sad smile played around the superintendent's delicate lips.

"I have heard," he said, "that you used to hunt much with my brother,

and that you are yourself a skilful hunter. The hunter's nature is a

peculiar one. I think I understand it, for I was born with the hunter's

instincts; but there is no room for its exercise in these court-yards

and gardens. I seldom have a holiday, and still more rarely avail

myself of it; and in this respect I enjoy, and indeed desire, but

little advantage over my prisoners. So it would be a hard trial for me,

if with the old passion I still possessed my former vigor; and thus I

may almost count it a piece of good fortune that at the Battle of

Leipzig I was shot through the lungs, so that it would avail me nothing

though I had the range of the boundless hunting-grounds of America. I

have since learned to confine my activity within narrower limits. My

favorite recreation is the turning-lathe. It is light work, and yet

often proves too heavy for an invalid like myself I shall probably soon

give it up, and must choose some still lighter work. But I should not

like to find myself condemned to absolute inactivity. You do not now

know, but you will soon learn, how great a blessing to a prisoner is a

mechanical occupation which fixes his wandering thoughts upon some near

and easily obtainable result which shapes itself under his hand. And

now I will leave you. I have still two visits to make, besides my

evening round through the building. One thing more: the old man who

will wait upon you, is, despite his rough ways, a thoroughly good

man, whom I have known for many years, and who has rendered me in my

life the most important services. You can trust him absolutely. Now,

good-night, and good sleep to you, and dream of the freedom which I

hope you will sooner regain than you now think."

He gave me a friendly nod, and left the room with the slow, light step

with which he had entered. I looked after him with fixed eyes, and

passed my hand over my brow; the silent cell seemed to have become

suddenly darker.

CHAPTER II.

I was still standing on the same spot, endeavoring to collect my

thoughts, when the door again opened, and the old turnkey who had first

received me, entered with a lighted candle, which he placed upon the

table. Then returning to the door, he took from some female whose form

was barely perceptible, a waiter upon which was a collation, and even a

bottle of wine. He laid a snow-white napkin over one corner of the

great oak table, placed everything neatly and orderly, took a step back

and cast a satisfied look at his work, then an angry one at me, and

said with a voice which strikingly resembled the growl of a great

mastiff: "There!"

"It seems this is for me," I remarked, indifferently.

"Don't see who else it could be for," growled the old man.

The roast meat on the dish had a very appetizing odor; for half a

year I had not tasted a drop of wine; and what was more, I did not

feel towards the surly turnkey the aversion that I felt towards the

gently-speaking, courteous superintendent; but I was resolved to accept

no favors from my jailor.

"I owe this to the kindness of the Herr Superintendent?" I asked,

taking my seat at the table.

"This and more," said the old man.

"For instance?"

"For instance, that one has our best cell, with a look-out into the

garden, and not one looking into the prison-yard, where neither

sunlight nor moonlight ever comes."

"Thanks," said I, "anything else?"

"That one can wear his handsome town-clothes, instead of unbleached

drilling; which is not such a bad rig, though, after all."

"Thanks," said I; "anything else?"

"And that one has Sergeant Süssmilch for warden."

"With whom I have the honor?"

"With whom one has the honor."

"Much obliged."

"Well you may be."

I looked up to get a better view of the man whose relation to me was so

fraught with honor and advantage. He appeared to be above fifty years

of age, of short, compact build, who seemed to stand remarkably firmly

for his age upon his short bowed legs. From his broad shoulders hung a

pair of quite disproportionately long arms, with great brown hairy

hands, which evidently had not lost their strength of grasp. From his

furrowed and wrinkled face, which might once have been good-looking,

twinkled under gray bushy eyebrows a pair of clear, good-humored eyes,

which in vain tried to look fierce and cruel. His smooth, close-cropped

gray hair lay thick above his bronzed forehead; and beneath his great

hooked nose, like an eagle's beak, a heavy moustache drooped on either

side far below his firm chin. Sergeant Süssmilch was, in later years,

long my true friend; in hours of trial he rendered me priceless

services; he taught my eldest boys to ride; and when, five years ago,

we carried him to his last resting-place, we all heartily sorrowed over

him; but at this moment I was considering what amount of resistance he

would be likely to offer in a contingency which I deemed very probable,

and thought that I should be sorry to have to take the life of the old

fellow who was so delightfully surly.

"If one has looked at Sergeant Süssmilch long enough, one will do well

to fall to the supper, which is getting no better by standing," he

said.

"It may stand there for me," I answered. "I have no appetite for the

Herr Superintendent's roast meat and wine."

"Might as well have said so at once," growled Herr Süssmilch,

commencing to replace the things on the waiter.

"Who the deuce was to know what your custom here is," I said in a sulky

tone.

"The custom here is that one has to work when he wants to eat."

"That is not true," I said. "I am not condemned to labor: I was

sentenced to seven years' imprisonment, and should by rights have been

sent to the fortress, where decent people go."

"Meaning one's self?" asked Herr Süssmilch.

"Meaning one's self."

"One is altogether mistaken," he replied, having by this time cleared

away the things. "In the prison one is compelled to work, unless one

has a father or some one who will pay for his keep. In this case one

has a father, and gets from him ten _silbergroschen_ daily."

"Herr Süssmilch," I cried, stepping up to the old man, "I take for

granted that you are telling me the truth; and now I give you my word

that I will rather starve in the dungeon like a rat, than take a penny

from my father."

"One will be of another way of thinking to-morrow."

"Never."

"Then one will have to work."

"We shall see about that."

"Yes, we shall see."

Süssmilch went, but stopped at the door, and remarked over his

shoulder:

"One wants, then, the ordinary diet, such as every one receives when he

comes here?"

"One wants nothing at all," I said, turning my back upon him.

"No light, then, for that is extra too."

I made him no answer. I heard the old man go to the table, take the

light, place it on the waiter, and move to the door. There he paused,

apparently to see if I would change my mind. I did not move. He

coughed; I took no notice. The next moment I was alone in the dark.

"To the devil all of you, with your smooth ways and your rough ways!" I

muttered to myself "I want the one as little as the other, and I will

be under obligations to no one--no one!"

I laughed aloud, seized the grating of the window and shook it, and

then ran up and down the dark room like some wild animal. At last I

threw myself in my clothes upon the bed, and lay there in gloomy

desperation brooding over my fate, which had never before seemed to me

so intolerable. I wrought myself up to a pitch of wild hatred against

all who had had any share in my ruin, against my judge, my counsel, my

father, the whole world; strengthening myself in my resolution not to

abate my obduracy, not to ask the slightest thing of any one, not to be

grateful to any one, and above all to win my liberty, cost what it

might.

Thus I lay for long hours. At last I slept and dreamed of a flowery

meadow over which were fluttering gay butterflies which I tried to

catch but could not, for whenever I touched them they turned to red

roses. And the red roses, when I attempted to pluck them, began to

flash with light and ring with music, and flashing and ringing they

floated up to heaven, whence they looked smiling down upon me as the

faces of blooming maidens. It was all so strange and sweet and fair,

that I lay upon the grass, laughing with bliss. But when I awaked I did

not laugh. When I awaked Süssmilch stood at my bed-side and said: "Now

one will have to work."

CHAPTER III.

For a fortnight I had been doing the very hardest work which at the

time was to be had in the establishment, which combined in itself the

features of a work-house, jail, and penitentiary. I was not compelled

to do this either by the letter of the law which prescribed that

prisoners should be employed in accordance with their capabilities, nor

by order of the superintendent, who on the contrary had allowed me to

choose whatever work I preferred. Indeed he proposed to me to draw up

certain lists, and make out certain accounts which happened to be

needed in the office, and for which the materials should be sent to my

cell. For exercise I might find pleasant and healthful work in the

large garden, which was about to be extended.

I replied--and in this I spoke the exact truth--that I was but a poor

hand at accounts, and that I understood nothing of gardening. I should

prefer, if I were allowed any choice in the matter, the very hardest

work that could be found. The Herr Superintendent had himself remarked

that work of this sort was the most suitable to a man of my

constitution. I had at first denied this; but had more maturely

considered the matter and found that the superintendent was right.

Indeed I must confess that I felt an irresistible desire to split wood,

to break stone, or to handle great weights.

In this, too, I spoke but the truth. My powerful frame was really

suffering from the compulsory inactivity. But there were other reasons

besides this which really prompted my request. Though I scarcely knew

it myself, most of my decisive steps were taken with reference to my

father. It was in a spirit of defiance to him that I had left his

house; it was in defiance to him that I had given myself up to justice;

and it was in defiance that I rejected his provision for my support and

demanded the hardest work. He should not have it in his power to say

that I ever, even in prison, was a burden to him; he should know that

his son was treated no better than a common criminal, which indeed he

was in his eyes.

And as little should the soft-speaking superintendent be able to say

that he had dealt out to the young man who came of such respectable

parents, mercy instead of justice.

And finally, heavy work which would have to be done in the open air

must offer better chances for the execution of the plan over which I

was brooding day and night, the plan either by cunning or force, or

both combined, to obtain my liberty.

Now it is true that the work in the garden which was proposed to me

perhaps offered still greater facilities for my purpose. The watch that

would be kept there would hardly be very strict, especially for me,

whom for some reason or other the superintendent seemed so particularly

disposed to favor; but here a feeling arose within me which would

probably appear singular to most men in my position, and yet of which I

have no cause to feel ashamed.

I was not willing to abuse any confidence that might be placed in me. I

had never done this in my life before; and I would not learn it now,

not even though a prisoner, not even to win the liberty for which I so

wildly longed. If they set me to work with the common criminals

condemned to hard labor, they would probably treat me and watch me as

one of them; and if they neglected this, so much the worse for them who

made the distinction at their own risk, and so much the better for me

who did not ask to be spared, and consequently was under no obligations

to spare any one.

These thoughts passed through my mind as I appeared before the

superintendent on the following day--this time in his office--and

presented my request to him.

He looked searchingly at me with his large gentle eyes, and answered:

"Whoever enters this place as a prisoner, is an unhappy man, who as

such alone is entitled to my compassion. If your fate touches me more

nearly than the rest, the reason is so clear as to need no explanation.

You have rejected the sympathy which I proffered you, but have not

offended me. From what I know of you, from your attitude during your

trial, this was what I had to expect. Whether you do well to reject the

provision which your father is willing to make for you, I greatly

doubt, as by so doing you but widen the breach between you; and in any

circumstances one owes a father so much, that one can, without shame,

accept even a humiliation at his hands. But this matter I must leave to

your own feelings. If you wish to be treated as a common pauper

criminal, who has to work for his maintenance, I had planned, as you

know, work for you better suited to your capacities and your education.

You say that what you desire is hard, laborious work. It may be so: you

are a man of very unusual bodily strength, and the confined air of a

prison is poison to both your mind and body. You have been deeply

embittered by the long term of your preliminary detention, which

appears to have been unprecedentedly rigorous. You will again, I am

convinced, become the generous, good-natured, noble fellow which you

are by nature, and which in my eyes you still are, when you have

expanded this deep chest with pure fresh air, and your torpid

circulation has been quickened by active work. You need, moreover, a

strong counterpoise to the passions that are raging within you. So, all

things considered, I am willing to grant your request. Süssmilch shall

show you your duties. But I tell you beforehand, it is convicts' work,

and you will find yourself in very bad company; so much the earlier

will you remember the difference between you and them."

He gave me a friendly look and wave of the hand, and dismissed me. A

feeling which I could not explain brought tears to my eyes as I turned

from him to the door, but I forced them back and said to myself: That

is all very fine; but I do not wish to be good, I wish to be free.

At the extreme corner of the prison wall, upon a slight elevation,

there was a new infirmary to be built. Design, plans, specifications,

had all been prepared by the superintendent himself, who was an

excellent architect, and the work was to be done by the convicts. They

were now digging the foundations. It was a heavy piece of work. An old

tower, forming part of the city wall, had once stood upon the spot the

ruins of which in the lapse of centuries had first crumbled to rubbish,

and then become consolidated into a compact mass which had to be broken

up with the pick until the old foundation-wall was reached, which was

to serve in part for the new building.

About twenty men were employed on this work. Sergeant Süssmilch had the

general supervision of it, and indeed, I being the only prisoner under

his immediate charge, had nothing else to do, the convicts from the

penitentiary being under the charge of two overseers. The most of these

convicts, of whom the majority were young men, and all strong and well

fitted for such work, looked as any men would look dressed in coarse

drilling, working under the eyes of a pair of stalwart overseers, and

forbidden to smoke, to whistle, to sing, or to speak in a low tone.

This latter prohibition first struck me upon hearing Süssmilch give to

one who had attempted to open a private conversation with his neighbor,

in a very emphatic tone the warning: "One has no secrets here; one can

talk loud or hold his tongue."

This warning was most frequently given to one particular convict, with

the additional remark that he had every reason to be careful.

This was a fellow of Herculean frame, the only one that had what might

be called a thorough gallows-face, and who owed his precious life only

to the circumstance that a murder of which he was most vehemently

suspected, could not quite be brought home to him in the eyes of the

judges. He was named Kaspar, and his fellow-convicts called him

Cat-Kaspar, because he was believed to possess the mysterious faculty

of seeing in the dark as well as in broad daylight, and,

notwithstanding the gigantic breadth of his shoulders, of creeping

through holes only large enough to allow the passage of a cat.

From the very first day I had made a conquest of this richly-gifted

man. While the others watched me with suspicious side-glances, never

spoke a word to me, and visibly avoided me, Cat-Kaspar sought every

opportunity to be near me; made furtive signals with his eyes, first

looking at me and then at the overseers, and gave me in every way to

understand that he wished to enter into more intimate relations, and

especially that he wished to speak with me.

I confess that I felt the strongest abhorrence for the man, whose

nature was plainly enough indicated by a low forehead almost covered by

his hair, a pair of evil, poisonous eyes, and a great brutal mouth; and

any one would have felt the impulse to shun him even without the

knowledge that his hands were stained with blood. But I mastered this

instinctive aversion, for I said to myself that this man would have

decision enough for any venture, and dexterity and strength enough to

carry out any plan. So I also sought an opportunity to get near him,

but did not succeed until we had been working together for a fortnight.

I had hardly effected this, when I made the discovery that Cat-Kaspar,

in addition to the accomplishments of which I had heard, possessed

another, which I afterwards found out to be easily acquired. This art

consisted in a most perfect imitation of a yawn, and while holding the

hand to the open mouth, forming by means of the tongue and teeth

certain sounds which, when closely listened to, could be detected to be

words. Thus for the first time I heard, to my no small astonishment,

from the midst of the most natural yawn in the world, the words: "The

great stone--help me."