“Karl Hoffman, at your service, mademoiselle.”
“The courier—oh, yes! I forgot all about it. Please take these things.”
And Amy began to hand him her miscellaneous collection of bags, books,
shawls and cushions.
“I’d no idea couriers were such decent creatures,” whispered Amy, as
they followed him along the hall.
“Don’t you remember the raptures Mrs. Mortimer used to have over their
Italian courier, and her funny description of him? ‘Beautiful to behold,
with a night of hair, eyes full of an infinite tenderness, and a
sumptuous cheek.’”
Both girls laughed, and Amy averred that Karl’s eyes danced with
merriment as he glanced over his shoulder, as the silvery peal sounded
behind him.
“Hush! he understands English; we must be careful,” said Helen, and
neither spoke again till they reached the carriage.
Everything was ready, and as they drove away, the major, leaning
luxuriously back, exclaimed,—
“Now I begin to enjoy travelling, for I’m no longer worried by the
thought of luggage, time-tables, trains, and the everlasting perplexity
of thalers, kreutzers, and pfenniges. This man is a treasure; everything
is done in the best manner, and his knowledge of matters is really
amazing.”
“He’s a very gentlemanly-looking person,” said Amy, eying a decidedly
aristocratic foot through the front window of the carriage, for Karl sat
up beside the driver.
“He _is_ a gentleman, my dear. Many of these couriers are well born and
educated, but, being poor, prefer this business to any other, as it
gives them variety, and often pleasant society. I’ve had a long talk
with Hoffman, and find him an excellent and accomplished fellow. He has
lost his fortune, it seems, through no fault of his own, so being fond
of a roving life, turned courier for a time, and we are fortunate to
have secured him.”
“But one doesn’t know how to treat him,” said Helen. “I don’t like to
address him as a servant, and yet it’s not pleasant to order a gentleman
about.”
“Oh, it will be easy enough as we go on together. Just call him Hoffman,
and behave as if you knew nothing about his past. He begged me not to
mention it, but I thought you’d like the romance of the thing. Only
don’t either of you run away with him, as Ponsonby’s daughter did with
her courier, who wasn’t a gentleman, by the way.”
“Not handsome enough,” said Amy. “I don’t like blue eyes and black hair.
His manners are nice, but he looks like a gipsy, with his brown face and
black beard: doesn’t he, Nell?”
“Not at all. Gipsies haven’t that style of face; they are thin, sharp,
and cunning in feature as in nature. Hoffman has large, well-moulded
features, and a mild, manly expression, which gives one confidence in
him.”
“He has a keen, wicked look in his blue eyes, as you will see, Nell. I
mean mischievously, not malignantly wicked. He likes fun, I’m sure, for
he laughed about the ‘sumptuous cheek’ till his own were red, though he
dared not show it, and was as grave as an owl when we met uncle,” said
Amy, smiling at the recollection.
“We shall go by boat to Biebrich, and then by rail to Heidelberg. We
shall get in late to-morrow night, but can rest a day, and then on to
Baden. Here we are; now make yourselves easy, as I do, and let Karl take
care of everything.”
And putting his hands in his pockets, the major strolled about the boat,
while the courier made matters comfortable for the day. So easily and
well did he do his duty, that both girls enjoyed watching him after he
had established them on the shady side of the boat, with camp-stools for
their feet, cushions to lean on, books and bags laid commodiously at
hand.
As they sailed up the lovely Rhine they grew more and more enthusiastic
in their admiration and curiosity, and finding the meagre description of
the guide-books very unsatisfactory, Amy begged her uncle to tell her
all the legends of picturesque ruin, rock and river, as they passed.
“Bless me, child, I know nothing; but here’s Hoffman, a German born, who
will tell you everything, I dare say. Karl, what’s that old castle up
there? The young ladies want to know about it.”
Leaning on the railing, Hoffman told the story so well that he was kept
explaining and describing for an hour, and when he went away to order
lunch, Amy declared it was as pleasant as reading fairy tales to listen
to his dramatic histories and legends.
At lunch the major was charmed to find his favorite wines and dishes
without any need of consulting dictionary or phrase-book beforehand, or
losing his temper in vain attempts to make himself understood.
On reaching Biebrich, tired and hungry, at nightfall, everything was
ready for them, and all went to bed praising Karl, the courier, though
Amy, with unusual prudence, added,—
“He is a new broom now; let us wait a little before we judge.”
All went well next day till nightfall, when a most untoward accident
occurred, and Helen’s adventures began in earnest. The three occupied a
_coupé_, and being weary with long sitting, Helen got out at one of the
stations where the train paused for ten minutes. A rosy sunset tempted
her to the end of the platform, and there she found, what nearly all
foreign railway stations possess, a charming little garden.
Amy was very tired, rather cross, and passionately fond of flowers, so
when an old woman offered to pull a nosegay for “the gracious lady,”
Helen gladly waited for it, hoping to please the invalid. Twice the
whistle warned her, and at last she ran back, but only in time to see
the train move away, with her uncle gesticulating wildly to the guard,
who shook his stupid German head, and refused to see the dismayed young
lady imploring him to wait for her.
Just as the train was vanishing from the station, a man leaped from a
second-class carriage at the risk of his neck, and hurried back to find
Helen looking pale and bewildered, as well she might, left alone and
money-less at night in a strange town.
“Mademoiselle, it is I; rest easy; we can soon go on; a train passes in
two hours, and we can telegraph to Heidelberg that they may not fear for
you.”
“Oh, Hoffman, how kind of you to stop for me! What should I have done
without you, for uncle takes care of all the money, and I have only my
watch.”
Helen’s usual self-possession rather failed her in the flurry of the
moment, and she caught Karl’s arm with a feminine little gesture of
confidence very pleasant to see. Leading her to the waiting-room, he
ordered supper, and put her into the care of the woman of the place,
while he went to make inquiries and dispatch the telegram. In half an
hour he was back again, finding Helen refreshed and cheerful, though a
trace of anxiety was still visible in her watchful eyes.
“All goes excellently, mademoiselle. I have sent word to several posts
along the road that we are coming by the night train, so that Monsieur
le Major will rest tranquil till we meet. It is best that I give you
some money, lest such a mishap should again occur; it is not likely so
soon; nevertheless, here is both gold and silver. With this, one can
make one’s way everywhere. Now, if mademoiselle will permit me to
advise, she will rest for an hour, as we must travel till dawn. I will
keep guard without and watch for the train.”
He left her, and having made herself comfortable on one of the sofas,
she lay watching the tall shadow pass and repass door and window, as
Karl marched up and down the platform, with the tireless tramp of a
sentinel on duty. A pleasant sense of security stole over her, and with
a smile at Amy’s enjoyment of the adventure when it was over, Helen fell
asleep.
A far-off shriek half woke her, and starting up, she turned to meet the
courier coming in to wake her. Up thundered the train, every carriage
apparently full of sleepy passengers, and the guard in a state of sullen
wrath at some delay, the consequences of which would fall heaviest on
him.
From carriage to carriage hurried Karl and his charge, to be met with
everywhere by the cry, “All full,” in many languages, and with every
aspect of inhospitality. One carriage only showed two places; the other
seats were occupied by six students, who gallantly invited the lady to
enter. But Helen shrunk back, saying,—
“Is there no other place?”
“None, mademoiselle; this, or remain till morning,” said Karl.
“Where will you go if I take this place?”
“Among the luggage,—anywhere; it is nothing. But we must decide at
once.”
“Come with me; I’m afraid to be locked in here alone,” said Helen,
desperately.
“Mademoiselle forgets I am her courier.”
“I do not forget that you are a gentleman. Pray come in; my uncle will
thank you.”
“I will,” and with a sudden brightening of the eyes, a grateful glance,
and an air of redoubled respect, Hoffman followed her into the carriage.
They were off at once, and the thing was done before Helen had time to
feel anything but the relief which the protection of his presence
afforded her.
The young gentlemen stared at the veiled lady and her grim escort, joked
under their breath, and looked wistfully at the suppressed cigars, but
behaved with exemplary politeness till sleep overpowered them, and one
after the other dropped off asleep to dream of their respective
Gretchens.
Helen could not sleep, and for hours sat studying the unconscious faces
before her, the dim landscape flying past the windows, or forgot herself
in reveries.
Hoffman remained motionless and silent, except when she addressed him,
wakeful also, and assiduous in making the long night as easy as
possible.
It was past midnight, and Helen’s heavy eyelids were beginning to droop,
when suddenly there came an awful crash, a pang of mortal fear, then
utter oblivion.
As her senses returned she found herself lying in a painful position
under what had been the roof of the car; something heavy weighed down
her lower limbs, and her dizzy brain rung with a wild uproar of shrieks
and groans, eager voices, the crash of wood and iron, and the shrill
whistle of the engine, as it rushed away for help.
Through the darkness she heard the pant as of some one struggling
desperately, then a cry close by her, followed by a strong voice
exclaiming, in an agony of suspense,—
“My God, will no one come!”
“Hoffman, are you there?” cried Helen, groping in the gloom, with a
thrill of joy at the sound of a familiar voice.
“Thank heaven, you are safe. Lie still. I will save you. Help is coming.
Have no fear!” panted the voice, with an undertone of fervent gratitude
in its breathless accents.
“What has happened? Where are the rest?”
“We have been thrown down an embankment. The lads are gone for help. God
only knows what harm is done.”