and the use of the house were not correct; also, that the old steward,
in spite of his denial, was not living alone there, and that some
mystery was hidden behind its discolored walls. How could I combine
the story of the strange and gruesome singing with the appearance
of the beautiful arm at the window? That arm could not be part of
the wrinkled body of an old woman; the singing, according to the
pastry cook’s story, could not come from the throat of a blooming
and youthful maiden. I decided in favor of the arm, as it was easy
to explain to myself that some trick of acoustics had made the voice
sound sharp and old, or that it had appeared so only in the pastry
cook’s fear-distorted imagination. Then I thought of the smoke, the
strange odors, the oddly-formed crystal bottle that I had seen, and
soon the vision of a beautiful creature held enthralled by fatal magic
stood as if alive before my mental vision. The old man became a wizard
who, perhaps quite independently of the family he served, had set up
his devil’s kitchen in the deserted house. My imagination had begun
to work, and in my dreams that night I saw clearly the hand with the
sparkling diamond on its finger, the arm with the shining bracelet.
From out thin, gray mists there appeared a sweet face with sadly
imploring blue eyes, then the entire exquisite figure of a beautiful
girl. And I saw that what I had thought was mist was the fine steam
flowing out in circles from a crystal bottle held in the hands of the
vision.
“Oh, fairest creature of my dreams,” I cried in rapture, “reveal to me
where thou art, what it is that enthralls thee. Ah, I know it! It is
black magic that holds thee captive--thou art the unhappy slave of that
malicious devil who wanders about brown-clad and bewigged in pastry
shops, scattering their wares with his unholy springing and feeding his
demon dog on macaroons, after they have howled out a Satanic measure in
five-eighth time. Oh, I know it all, thou fair and charming vision.
The diamond is the reflection of the fire of thy heart. But that
bracelet about thine arm is a link of the chain which the brown-clad
one says is a magnetic chain. Do not believe it, O glorious one! See
how it shines in the blue fire from the retort. One moment more and
thou art free. And now, O maiden, open thy rosebud mouth and tell
me----” In this moment a gnarled fist leaped over my shoulder and
clutched at the crystal bottle, which sprang into a thousand pieces in
the air. With a faint, sad moan, the charming vision faded into the
blackness of the night.
When morning came to put an end to my dreaming I hurried through
the avenue, seeking the deserted house as usual and I saw something
glistening in the last window of the upper story. Coming nearer I
noticed that the outer blind had been quite drawn up and the inner
curtain slightly opened. The sparkle of a diamond met my eye. O kind
Heaven! The face of my dream looked at me, gently imploring, from above
the rounded arm on which her head was resting. But how was it possible
to stand still in the moving crowd without attracting attention?
Suddenly I caught sight of the benches placed in the gravel walk in the
centre of the avenue, and I saw that one of them was directly opposite
the house. I sprang over to it, and leaning over its back, I could
stare up at the mysterious window undisturbed. Yes, it was she, the
charming maiden of my dream! But her eye did not seem to seek me as I
had at first thought; her glance was cold and unfocused, and had it
not been for an occasional motion of the hand and arm, I might have
thought that I was looking at a cleverly painted picture.
I was so lost in my adoration of the mysterious being in the window,
so aroused and excited throughout all my nerve centres, that I did
not hear the shrill voice of an Italian street hawker, who had been
offering me his wares for some time. Finally he touched me on the arm;
I turned hastily and commanded him to let me alone. But he did not
cease his entreaties, asserting that he had earned nothing today, and
begging me to buy some small trifle from him. Full of impatience to get
rid of him I put my hand in my pocket. With the words: “I have more
beautiful things here,” he opened the under drawer of his box and held
out to me a little, round pocket mirror. In it, as he held it up before
my face, I could see the deserted house behind me, the window, and the
sweet face of my vision there.
I bought the little mirror at once, for I saw that it would make it
possible for me to sit comfortably and inconspicuously, and yet watch
the window. The longer I looked at the reflection in the glass, the
more I fell captive to a weird and quite indescribable sensation, which
I might almost call a waking dream. It was as if a lethargy had lamed
my eyes, holding them fastened on the glass beyond my power to loosen
them. And now at last the beautiful eyes of the fair vision looked at
me, her glance sought mine and shone deep down into my heart.
“You have a pretty little mirror there,” said a voice beside me. I
awoke from my dream, and was not a little confused when I saw smiling
faces looking at me from either side. Several persons had sat down upon
the bench, and it was quite certain that my staring into the window,
and my probably strange expression, had afforded them great cause for
amusement.
“You have a pretty little mirror there,” repeated the man, as I did not
answer him. His glance said more, and asked without words the reason
of my staring so oddly into the little glass. He was an elderly man,
neatly dressed, and his voice and eyes were so full of good nature
that I could not refuse him my confidence. I told him that I had been
looking in the mirror at the picture of a beautiful maiden who was
sitting at a window of the deserted house. I went even farther; I asked
the old man if he had not seen the fair face himself. “Over there? In
the old house--in the last window?” He repeated my questions in a tone
of surprise.
“Yes, yes,” I exclaimed.
The old man smiled and answered: “Well, well, that was a strange
delusion. My old eyes--thank Heaven for my old eyes! Yes, yes, sir. I
saw a pretty face in the window there, with my own eyes; but it seemed
to me to be an excellently well-painted oil portrait.”
I turned quickly and looked toward the window; there was no one there,
and the blind had been pulled down. “Yes,” continued the old man, “yes,
sir. Now it is too late to make sure of the matter, for just now the
servant, who, as I know, lives there alone in the house of the Countess
S----, took the picture away from the window after he had dusted it,
and let down the blinds.”
“Was it, then, surely a picture?” I asked again, in bewilderment.
“You can trust my eyes,” replied the old man. “The optical delusion
was strengthened by your seeing only the reflection in the mirror. And
when I was in your years it was easy enough for my fancy to call up the
picture of a beautiful maiden.”
“But the hand and arm moved,” I exclaimed. “Oh, yes, they moved, indeed
they moved,” said the old man smiling, as he patted me on the shoulder.
Then he arose to go, and bowing politely, closed his remarks with the
words, “Beware of mirrors which can lie so vividly. Your obedient
servant, sir.”
You can imagine how I felt when I saw that he looked upon me as a
foolish fantast. I hurried home full of anger and disgust, and promised
myself that I would not think of the mysterious house. But I placed
the mirror on my dressing-table that I might bind my cravat before it,
and thus it happened one day, when I was about to utilize it for this
important business, that its glass seemed dull, and that I took it up
and breathed on it to rub it bright again. My heart seemed to stand
still, every fiber in me trembled in delightful awe. Yes, that is all
the name I can find for the feeling that came over me, when, as my
breath clouded the little mirror, I saw the beautiful face of my dreams
arise and smile at me through blue mists. You laugh at me? You look
upon me as an incorrigible dreamer? Think what you will about it--the
fair face looked at me from out of the mirror! But as soon as the
clouding vanished, and face vanished in the brightened glass.
I will not weary you with a detailed recital of my sensations the next
few days. I will only say that I repeated again the experiments with
the mirror, sometimes with success, sometimes without. When I had not
been able to call up the vision, I would run to the deserted house
and stare up at the windows; but I saw no human being anywhere about
the building. I lived only in thoughts of my vision; everything else
seemed indifferent to me. I neglected my friends and my studies. The
tortures in my soul passed over into, or rather mingled with, physical
sensations which frightened me, and which at last made me fear for my
reason. One day, after an unusually severe attack, I put my little
mirror in my pocket and hurried to the home of Dr. K----, who was noted
for his treatment of those diseases of the mind out of which physical
diseases so often grow. I told him my story; I did not conceal the
slightest incident from him, and I implored him to save me from the
terrible fate which seemed to threaten me. He listened to me quietly,
but I read astonishment in his glance. Then he said: “The danger is
not as near as you believe, and I think that I may say that it can be
easily prevented. You are undergoing an unusual psychical disturbance,
beyond a doubt. But the fact that you understand that some evil
principle seems to be trying to influence you, gives you a weapon by
which you can combat it. Leave your little mirror here with me, and
force yourself to take up with some work which will afford scope for
all your mental energy. Do not go to the avenue; work all day, from
early to late, then take a long walk, and spend your evenings in the
company of your friends. Eat heartily, and drink heavy, nourishing
wines. You see I am endeavoring to combat your fixed idea of the face
in the window of the deserted house and in the mirror, by diverting
your mind to other things, and by strengthening your body. You yourself
must help me in this.”
I was very reluctant to part with my mirror. The physician, who had
already taken it, seemed to notice my hesitation. He breathed upon the
glass and holding it up to me, he asked: “Do you see anything?”
“Nothing at all,” I answered, for so it was.
“Now breathe on the glass yourself,” said the physician, laying the
mirror in my hands.
I did as he requested. There was the vision even more clearly than ever
before.
“There she is!” I cried aloud.
The physician looked into the glass, and then said: “I cannot see
anything. But I will confess to you that when I looked into this glass,
a queer shiver overcame me, passing away almost at once. Now do it once
more.”
I breathed upon the glass again and the physician laid his hand upon
the back of my neck. The face appeared again, and the physician,
looking into the mirror over my shoulder, turned pale. Then he took
the little glass from my hands, looked at it attentively, and locked it
into his desk, returning to me after a few moments’ silent thought.
“Follow my instructions strictly,” he said. “I must confess to you that
I do not yet understand those moments of your vision. But I hope to be
able to tell you more about it very soon.”
Difficult as it was to me, I forced myself to live absolutely according
to the doctor’s orders. I soon felt the benefit of the steady work
and the nourishing diet, and yet I was not free from those terrible
attacks, which would come either at noon, or, more intensely still,
at midnight. Even in the midst of a merry company, in the enjoyment
of wine and song, glowing daggers seemed to pierce my heart, and all
the strength of my intellect was powerless to resist their might
over me. I was obliged to retire, and could not return to my friends
until I had recovered from my condition of lethargy. It was in one of
these attacks, an unusually strong one, that such an irresistible,
mad longing for the picture of my dreams came over me, that I hurried
out into the street and ran toward the mysterious house. While still
at a distance from it, I seemed to see lights shining out through
the fast-closed blinds, but when I came nearer I saw that all was
dark. Crazy with my desire I rushed to the door; it fell back before
the pressure of my hand. I stood in the dimly lighted vestibule,
enveloped in a heavy, close atmosphere. My heart beat in strange fear
and impatience. Then suddenly a long, sharp tone, as from a woman’s
throat, shrilled through the house. I know not how it happened that I
found myself suddenly in a great hall brilliantly lighted and furnished
in old-fashioned magnificence of golden chairs and strange Japanese
ornaments. Strongly perfumed incense arose in blue clouds about me.
“Welcome--welcome, sweet bridegroom! the hour has come, our bridal
hour!” I heard these words in a woman’s voice, and as little as I
can tell, how I came into the room, just so little do I know how it
happened that suddenly a tall, youthful figure, richly dressed, seemed
to arise from the blue mists. With the repeated shrill cry: “Welcome,
sweet bridegroom!” she came toward me with outstretched arms--and a
yellow face, distorted with age and madness, stared into mine! I fell
back in terror, but the fiery, piercing glance of her eyes, like the
eyes of a snake, seemed to hold me spellbound. I did not seem able to
turn my eyes from this terrible old woman, I could not move another
step. She came still nearer, and it seemed to me suddenly as if her
hideous face were only a thin mask, beneath which I saw the features
of the beautiful maiden of my vision. Already I felt the touch of her
hands, when suddenly she fell at my feet with a loud scream, and a
voice behind me cried:
“Oho, is the devil playing his tricks with your grace again? To bed, to
bed, your grace. Else there will be blows, mighty blows!”
I turned quickly and saw the old steward in his night clothes, swinging
a whip above his head. He was about to strike the screaming figure at
my feet when I caught at his arm. But he shook me from him, exclaiming:
“The devil, sir! That old Satan would have murdered you if I had not
come to your aid. Get away from here at once!”
I rushed from the hall, and sought in vain in the darkness for the
door of the house. Behind me I heard the hissing blows of the whip and
the old woman’s screams. I drew breath to call aloud for help, when
suddenly the ground gave way under my feet; I fell down a short flight
of stairs, bringing up with such force against a door at the bottom
that it sprang open, and I measured my length on the floor of a small
room. From the hastily vacated bed, and from the familiar brown coat
hanging over a chair, I saw that I was in the bedchamber of the old
steward. There was a trampling on the stair, and the old man himself
entered hastily, throwing himself at my feet. “By all the saints, sir,”
he entreated with folded hands, “whoever you may be, and however her
grace, that old Satan of a witch has managed to entice you to this
house, do not speak to anyone of what has happened here. It will cost
me my position. Her crazy excellency has been punished, and is bound
fast in her bed. Sleep well, good sir, sleep softly and sweetly. It is
a warm and beautiful July night. There is no moon, but the stars shine
brightly. A quiet good night to you.” While talking, the old man had
taken up a lamp, had led me out of the basement, pushed me out of the
house door, and locked it behind me. I hurried home quite bewildered,
and you can imagine that I was too much confused by the gruesome secret
to be able to form any explanation of it in my own mind for the first
few days. Only this much was certain, that I was now free from the evil
spell that had held me captive so long. All my longing for the magic
vision in the mirror had disappeared, and the memory of the scene in
the deserted house was like the recollection of an unexpected visit
to a madhouse. It was evident beyond a doubt that the steward was the
tyrannical guardian of a crazy woman of noble birth, whose condition
was to be hidden from the world. But the mirror? and all the other
magic? Listen, and I will tell you more about it.
Some few days later I came upon Count P---- at an evening
entertainment. He drew me to one side and said, with a smile, “Do
you know that the secrets of our deserted house are beginning to be
revealed?” I listened with interest; but before the Count could say
more the doors of the dining-room were thrown open, and the company
proceeded to the table. Quite lost in thought at the words I had
just heard, I had given a young lady my arm, and had taken my place
mechanically in the ceremonious procession. I led my companion to the
seats arranged for us, and then turned to look at her for the first
time. The vision of my mirror stood before me, feature for feature,
there was no deception possible! I trembled to my innermost heart, as
you can imagine; but I discovered that there was not the slightest
echo even, in my heart, of the mad desire which had ruled me so
entirely when my breath drew out the magic picture from the glass. My
astonishment, or rather my terror, must have been apparent in my eyes.
The girl looked at me in such surprise that I endeavored to control
myself sufficiently to remark that I must have met her somewhere
before. Her short answer, to the effect that this could hardly be
possible, as she had come to the city only yesterday for the first time
in her life, bewildered me still more and threw me into an awkward
silence. The sweet glance from her gentle eyes brought back my courage,
and I began a tentative exploring of this new companion’s mind. I found
that I had before me a sweet and delicate being, suffering from some
psychic trouble. At a particularly merry turn of the conversation,
when I would throw in a daring word like a dash of pepper, she would
smile, but her smile was pained, as if a wound had been touched. “You
are not very merry to-night, Countess. Was it the visit this morning?”
An officer sitting near us had spoken these words to my companion,
but before he could finish his remarks his neighbor had grasped him
by the arm and whispered something in his ear, while a lady at the
other side of the table, with glowing cheeks and angry eyes, began to
talk loudly of the opera she had heard last evening. Tears came to the
eyes of the girl sitting beside me. “Am I not foolish?” She turned to
me. A few moments before she had complained of headache. “Merely the
usual evidences of a nervous headache,” I answered in an easy tone,
“and there is nothing better for it than the merry spirit which
bubbles in the foam of this poet’s nectar.” With these words I filled
her champagne glass, and she sipped at it as she threw me a look of
gratitude. Her mood brightened, and all would have been well had I not
touched a glass before me with unexpected strength, arousing from it a
shrill, high tone. My companion grew deadly pale, and I myself felt a
sudden shiver, for the sound had exactly the tone of the mad woman’s
voice in the deserted house.
While we were drinking coffee I made an opportunity to get to the side
of Count P----. He understood the reason for my movement. “Do you know
that your neighbor is Countess Edwina S----? And do you know also that
it is her mother’s sister who lives in the deserted house, incurably
mad for many years? This morning both mother and daughter went to see
the unfortunate woman. The old steward, the only person who is able to
control the Countess in her outbreaks, is seriously ill, and they say
that the sister has finally revealed the secret to Dr. K----.”
Dr. K---- was the physician to whom I had turned in my own anxiety, and
you can well imagine that I hurried to him as soon as I was free, and
told him all that had happened to me in the last days. I asked him to
tell me as much as he could about the mad woman, for my own peace of
mind; and this is what I learned from him under promise of secrecy.
“Angelica, Countess Z----,” thus the doctor began, “had already passed
her thirtieth year, but was still in full possession of great beauty,
when Count S----, although much younger than she, became so fascinated
by her charm that he wooed her with ardent devotion and followed her
to her father’s home to try his luck there. But scarcely had the Count
entered the house, scarcely had he caught sight of Angelica’s younger
sister, Gabrielle, when he awoke as from a dream. The elder sister
appeared faded and colorless beside Gabrielle, whose beauty and charm
so enthralled the Count that he begged her hand of her father. Count
Z---- gave his consent easily, as there was no doubt of Gabrielle’s
feelings toward her suitor. Angelica did not show the slightest anger
at her lover’s faithlessness. “He believes that he has forsaken me,
the foolish boy! He does not perceive that he was but my toy, a toy
of which I had tired.” Thus she spoke in proud scorn, and not a look
or an action on her part belied her words. But after the ceremonious
betrothal of Gabrielle to Count S----, Angelica was seldom seen by
the members of her family. She did not appear at the dinner table,
and it was said that she spent most of her time walking alone in the
neighboring wood.
“A strange occurrence disturbed the monotonous quiet of life in the
castle. The hunters of Count Z----, assisted by peasants from the
village, had captured a band of gypsies who were accused of several
robberies and murders which had happened recently in the neighborhood.
The men were brought to the castle court-yard, fettered together on
a long chain, while the women and children were packed on a cart.
Noticeable among the last was a tall, haggard old woman of terrifying
aspect, wrapped from head to foot in a red shawl. She stood upright in
the cart, and in an imperious tone demanded that she should be allowed
to descend. The guards were so awed by her manner and appearance that
they obeyed her at once.
“Count Z---- came down to the courtyard and commanded that the gang
should be placed in the prisons under the castle. Suddenly Countess
Angelica rushed out of the door, her hair all loose, fear and anxiety
in her pale face. Throwing herself on her knees, she cried in a
piercing voice, ‘Let these people go! Let these people go! They are
innocent! Father, let these people go! If you shed one drop of their
blood I will pierce my heart with this knife!’ The Countess swung a
shining knife in the air and then sank swooning to the ground. ‘Yes, my
beautiful darling--my golden child--I knew you would not let them hurt
us,’ shrilled the old woman in red. She cowered beside the Countess
and pressed disgusting kisses to her face and breast, murmuring crazy
words. She took from out the recesses of her shawl a little vial in
which a tiny goldfish seemed to swim in some silver-clear liquid.
She held the vial to the Countess’s heart. The latter regained
consciousness immediately. When her eyes fell on the gypsy woman, she
sprang up, clasped the old creature ardently in her arms, and hurried
with her into the castle.
“Count Z----, Gabrielle, and her lover, who had come out during this
scene, watched it in astonished awe. The gypsies appeared quite
indifferent. They were loosed from their chains and taken separately to
the prisons. Next morning Count Z---- called the villagers together.
The gypsies were led before them and the Count announced that he had
found them to be innocent of the crimes of which they were accused,
and that he would grant them free passage through his domains. To the
astonishment of all present, their fetters were struck off and they
were set at liberty. The red-shawled woman was not among them. It
was whispered that the gypsy captain, recognizable from the golden
chain about his neck and the red feather in his high Spanish hat, had
paid a secret visit to the Count’s room the night before. But it was
discovered a short time after the release of the gypsies, that they
were indeed guiltless of the robberies and murders that had disturbed
the district.
“The date set for Gabrielle’s wedding approached. One day, to her great
astonishment, she saw several large wagons in the courtyard being
packed high with furniture, clothing, linen, with everything necessary
for a complete household outfit. The wagons were driven away, and the
following day Count Z---- explained that, for many reasons, he had
thought it best to grant Angelica’s odd request that she be allowed to
set up her own establishment in his house in X----. He had given the
house to her, and had promised her that no member of the family, not
even he himself, should enter it without her express permission. He
added also, that, at her urgent request, he had permitted his own valet
to accompany her, to take charge of her household.
“When the wedding festivities were over, Count S---- and his bride
departed for their home, where they spent a year in cloudless
happiness. Then the Count’s health failed mysteriously. It was as
if some secret sorrow gnawed at his vitals, robbing him of joy and
strength. All efforts of his young wife to discover the source of
his trouble were fruitless. At last, when the constantly recurring
fainting spells threatened to endanger his very life, he yielded to the
entreaties of his physicians and left his home, ostensibly for Pisa.
His young wife was prevented from accompanying him by the delicate
condition of her own health.