He seized a log, and began to sound the wall, which, however, gave forth only a dull, dense sound. There was apparently no hollow in it, but still the dog maintained the same posture.
"Decidedly, Lieverlé," said the huntsman, "you have had a nightmare. Come, lie down, and don't set our nerves on edge any more."
At the same moment we heard a sound outside. The door opened, and the big, fat face of honest Tobias Offenloch, with his round lantern in one hand and his stick in the other, and his three-cornered hat on one side of his head, appeared smiling and genial in the doorway.
"Greeting, worthy company!" he exclaimed; "what the devil are you doing here?"
"It was this foolish Lieverlé who made all the racket," said Sperver; "he sprang against the wall and wouldn't be quieted. Can you tell us the reason of it?"
"He probably heard the stumping of my wooden leg as I came up the tower stairs," replied the good-natured fellow with a laugh. Then setting his lantern on the table: "That will teach you, Master Gideon, to tie up your dogs. You have a weakness for dogs,—an absurd weakness. They will end by putting us all out of doors. Only a moment ago, as I was coming along the gallery, I met your Blitz; he snapped at my leg,—see, there are themarks of his teeth. A new leg, too, confound the cur!"
"Tie up my dogs? What an idea!" replied Sperver. "Dogs that are tied up are good for nothing; it makes them savage. Moreover, Lieverlé was fastened, and he has what was left of the cord around his neck still."
"It is not on my account that I am speaking, for whenever I see them coming, I always raise my stick and put my wooden leg first. It is only for discipline. The dogs ought to be in the kennels, the cats on the gutters, and the people in the Castle, according to my way of thinking."
Tobie sat down as he finished his sentence, and with his elbows resting on the table and his eyes beaming with satisfaction, he said in a confidential tone:
"You should know, gentlemen, that I am a bachelor this evening."
"How is that?"
"Marie Anne is sitting up with Gertrude in the Count's antechamber."
"Then you are in no hurry."
"Not the least bit."
"How unlucky you should have come so late," observed Sperver; "all the bottles are empty."
The discomfited expression of the good fellow made me feel positively sorry. He would gladly have profited by his widowhood. In spite of my efforts to repress it, however, my mouth parted in a wide yawn.
"We will put it over till another day," he said, getting up; "what is postponed is not lost."
He took up his lantern.
"Good night, gentlemen."
"Wait a minute," said Gideon; "I see the doctor is sleepy; we will go down together."
"Gladly, Sperver! We will have a word with Trumpf as we pass. He is down-stairs with the others, and Knapwurst is telling them stories."
"Well, good night, Gaston."
"Good night, Sperver. Don't forget to call me if the Count grows worse."
"Never fear. Lieverlé, come here."
They went out, and as they were crossing the platform, I could hear the old Nideck clock striking eleven.
I was completely exhausted with the day's experiences. Soon I threw myself on the bed, and straightway fell into a deep slumber, where all night long I was wandering beside a radiantcreature with a halo of golden hair about her face, amid flower-strewn paths, and the song of birds, and above our heads the fairest of summer skies.
The dawn was beginning to turn gray the only window of the donjon-tower, when I was awakened in my granite bed by the distant notes of a hunting-horn. I know of no sound more sad and melancholy than the vibrations of its tones, just at morning twilight, when all is still, and no breath, no whisper comes to disturb the perfect quiet of solitude; it is the final note, especially, that, spreading over the immense plain and awaking the far-offechoes of the mountain, stirs us to the heart with its pure, poetic quality.
Leaning with my elbow on the bearskin, I listened to this plaintive cry, that seemed to be invoking memories of the Feudal Ages. The aspect of my chamber, with its low, ragged arch, and, further on, the little window with its panes set in lead, midway between the alcove and the corridor, the ceiling more wide than high, and deeply hollowed in the wall,—in short, every detail of this ancient den of the Wolf of Nideck served to realize my fancy.
I rose quickly and threw the window wide open. There before me lay a spectacle that no mere language can describe,—the scene that the Alpine eagle surveys each morning, as the purple curtain of night lifts itselffrom the horizon; range after range of mountains,—motionless billows that stretch away and become lost in the distant mists of the Vosges and the Jura,—immense forests, lakes, and towering peaks tracing their sharp outlines upon the steel-blue of the snow-clad valleys; beyond this, the infinite! What human skill could attain to the sublimity of such a picture? I stood overwhelmed with wonder and delight. At each glance some new detail was revealed to my eyes; hamlets, farms, villages, seemed to rise from every fold of the landscape, and as I gazed, these objects became more numerous.
I had been standing thus for more than a quarter of an hour, when a hand was laid lightly upon my shoulder; I turned and met the calm face andquiet smile of my friend Gideon, who greeted me with:
"Good morning, Gaston."
Then he rested his elbows on the window-sill beside me, puffing clouds of smoke from his short pipe. Extending his arm towards the distant mountains, he said at length:
"Look at that, Gaston; you should love it, for you are a son of the Black Forest. Look down there, way down; that is the Roche Creuse. Do you see it? You remember Gertrude? How far off those days seem!"
He stopped and cleared his throat; I was at a loss what to reply. We stood for a long time in a contemplative mood, mute before the grandeur of the scene that rolled away beneath us. From time to time, the old steward,seeing my eyes rest on some point of the horizon, would explain:
"That is the Wald Horn; this is the Tiefenthal. There you see the cascade of the Steinbach; it has stopped running now, and hangs like an ice cloak over the shoulder of the Harberg,—a cold garment for this season of the year. Down there is the path that leads to Tübingen; a fortnight more and we shall have difficulty in tracing it."
An hour passed thus; I could not tear myself away from the scene.
A few birds of prey, with gracefully hollowed wings, were sailing about the tower; a flock of herons flew above them, escaping their claws by reason of their loftier flight. Not a cloud was visible in the sky; all the snow hadfallen to earth. The hunting-horn saluted the mountain for the last time.
"That is my friend Sebalt mourning down there," said Sperver. "No one is a better judge of horses and dogs than he, and when it comes to sounding the horn, there is not his equal in all Germany. Just hear how mellow those notes are, Gaston. Poor Sebalt! he is pining away since our master became ill; he cannot hunt as he used to. His only consolation is to climb the Altenberg every morning just at daybreak, and play the Count's favorite airs. He thinks that may cure him."
Sperver, with the tact of a man who himself loves beautiful things, had not interrupted my contemplation; but when, dazzled by the growing light, I turned back into the chamber, he said:
"Gaston, things look more encouraging; the Count has had no return of the convulsions."
These words brought me back to a more practical world.
"Ah, I am glad to hear it."
"And it is your doing, too."
"Mine? I haven't even prescribed anything yet."
"What of that? You are here."
"You're joking, Gideon; what could my mere presence accomplish?"
"You bring him good luck."
I looked at him closely; he was in earnest.
"Yes," he repeated seriously; "you are a bringer of good luck. In past years, our master has had a second attack the day after the first, and then a third, and fourth; but you have preventedthis and arrested the course of the malady. That is clear enough."
"Not to my mind, Sperver. On the contrary, I find it exceedingly obscure."
"We are never too old to learn," continued the worthy fellow. "There are forerunners of good fortune and harbingers of ill. Take that rascal Knapwurst, for example; he is a sure sign of bad luck. If ever I happen to run across him as I am going out hunting, I am sure to meet with some accident; my gun misses fire, I sprain my ankle, or a dog gets ripped open. Knowing this, I always take care to set off just at daybreak, before the scamp, who sleeps like a dormouse, has got his eyes open; or else I steal through the postern gate."
"A wise precaution; but your ideas seem odd to me, Gideon."
"But you, on the other hand," he continued without noticing my interruption, "are an open-hearted, honest lad. Heaven has bestowed many blessings upon you; just one glance at your good-natured face, your frank gaze, and your kindly smile, is enough to make any one happy. And you bring good luck; that is certain. Do you want a proof of what I say?"
"Why, certainly. I am not sorry to discover that I possess so many hitherto unknown virtues."
"Well," said he, seizing my wrist, "look down there!"
He pointed to a hillock a couple of gunshots distant from the Castle.
"Do you see that rock half buried inthe snow, with a bush to the left of it?"
"Distinctly."
"And you see nothing near it?"
"No."
"Well, that is easily accounted for; you have driven the Black Plague away. Every year, on the second day of the Count's illness, she was to be seen there, with her arms clasped around her skinny knees. At night, she lighted a fire, warmed herself, and cooked the roots of trees. She was a curse to every living thing. The first thing I did this morning was to climb up to the signal-tower and look around me. The old hag was nowhere to be seen. In vain did I shade my eyes with my hand and gaze to right and left, up and down, across the plainand over the mountain,—not a sign of her anywhere. She has scented you, sure enough!"
Wringing my hand in his enthusiasm, the good fellow cried excitedly, "Oh, Gaston, Gaston! How lucky it was that I brought you here! How angry the old hag will be!"
I must confess to a feeling of embarrassment at discovering so much merit in myself, which had hitherto escaped my observation.
"So the Count has passed a comfortable night, Sperver?" I continued.
"Very comfortable," he replied.
"That is welcome news. Let's go down-stairs."
We once more crossed the little courtyard, and I was able to obtain a better view of our means of egress,whose ramparts attained to a prodigious height,—continuing along the edge of the rock to the very bottom of the valley. It was a flight of precipices, so to speak, shelving one below another into the dizzy depths beneath. On looking down, I became giddy, and recoiling to the middle of the landing, I hastened down the passageway which led to the Castle.
Sperver and I had already traversed several broad corridors, when a wide-open door blocked our passage. I glanced in and saw, at the top of a double ladder, the little gnome Knapwurst, whose grotesque physiognomy had struck me the night before. The hall itself attracted my attention by its imposing aspect. It was a storehouse for the archives of Nideck, a high, dark,dusty apartment, with long Gothic windows reaching from the ceiling to within three feet of the floor.
There were to be found, ranged along the broad shelves by the careful abbots of olden times, not only all the documents, title-deeds, and genealogical trees of the families of Nideck, establishing their rights, alliances, and relations with the most illustrious nobles of Germany, but also the chronicles of the Black Forest, the collected remnants of the old Minnesingers, and the great folios from the presses of Gutenberg and Faust, no less venerable on account of their origin and the enduring solidity of their binding. The deep shadows of the alcoves, draping the cold walls with their grayish gloom, reminded you of the ancient cloistersof the Middle Ages; and in the midst of it all sat the dwarf at the top of his ladder, with a huge, red-edged volume lying open on his bony knees, his head buried to the ears in a fur cap; gray-eyed, flat-nosed, the corners of his mouth drawn down by long years of thought, with stooping shoulders and wasted limbs; a fittingfamulus—the rat, as Sperver called him—to this last refuge of the learning of Nideck.
That which gave to the place a unique interest, however, was the line of family portraits that covered one whole side of the ancient library. There they were, knights and ladies, from Hugh the Wolf down to Count Hermann, the present owner; from the crude daubs of barbarous days to the perfect work of the best painters of our own time.My attention was naturally centred upon this part of the room. Hugh I., with a bald head, seemed watching you from his frame as a wolf glares at the traveller whom a sudden turn in the forest path discloses to view. His gray, blood-shot eyes, bristling beard, and large, hairy ears, gave him an air of singular ferocity.
Next to him, like the lamb next the savage beast, was a young woman, with a gentle, sad expression, her hands clasped on her breast, her long, silken tresses of fair hair parted over the forehead and falling in thick waves about her face, which they encircled with a golden aureole. I was struck with her resemblance to Odile of Nideck. Nothing could have been more delicate and charming than this old painting onwood, a little stiff in its outline, but charmingly simple and ingenuous.
I had been studying this portrait for some minutes, when another, hanging beside it, drew my attention in its turn. Here, too, was a woman, but of the true Visigothic type, with a broad, low forehead, yellow eyes, and prominent cheek-bones, red hair, and nose like an eagle's beak. "That woman must have been to Hugh's liking," I said to myself, and I began to study the costume, which was in perfect keeping with the energy expressed in the face, for the right hand clasped a sword, and the waist was encircled in a steel corselet.
I know not how to describe the thoughts that succeeded one another in my mind as I gazed upon these three faces. My eye roamed from oneto another with singular curiosity, and I found it impossible to terminate my study. Sperver, standing on the threshold of the library, gave a sharp whistle, seemingly to attract Knapwurst's attention, who looked down at him from the top of his ladder without stirring.
"Is it me you are whistling to like a dog?" said the dwarf.
"Aye, you imp! None else."
"Listen to me, Sperver," replied the gnome with supreme disdain; "you cannot spit so high as my shoe; I defy you!" and he stuck out his foot.
"And if I should come up there?"
"I would squash you flat with this volume."
Gideon laughed, and replied:
"Come, come, Knapwurst! Don'tget angry! I don't wish you any harm; on the contrary I have the greatest respect for your learning; but what the devil are you doing at this hour, seated over your lamp? Any one would think you had spent the night here."
"So I have, reading!"
"Aren't the days long enough for you?"
"No! I am looking up an important question, and I shan't sleep till I have settled it."
"Well, by Jove; what is this interesting question?"
"It is to find out under what circumstances Ludwig of Nideck discovered my ancestor, Otto the Dwarf, in the forests of Thuringia. You should know, Sperver, that my ancestor Ottowas only an arm's length high; that is, about two feet and a half. He delighted the world with his wisdom, and figured honorably in the coronation of the Emperor Rodolph. Count Ludwig had him enclosed in a cold roast peacock, served up with all its plumage. During the feast, Otto spread out the peacock's tail, and all the nobles, courtiers, and great ladies were astonished at this ingenious piece of mechanism. At last Otto emerged, sword in hand, and cried in a thundering voice, 'Long live the Emperor, Rodolph of Hapsburg!' which was repeated on all sides with shouts and rejoicings. Bernard Hertzog mentions this circumstance, but fails to inform us as to the family origin of the dwarf, whether he was of noble descent, or of base extraction; the latterhypothesis being highly improbable, as the common herd are rarely possessed of so much wit."
I was amazed at the conceit of this little creature, my curiosity, however, leading me to dissemble my feelings; for he alone could furnish me with the facts concerning the two portraits that hung on the right of Hugh the Wolf.
"Monsieur Knapwurst," I said, in a tone of profound respect, "would you have the kindness to enlighten me upon a certain subject?"
Flattered by these words, the little fellow replied:
"Speak, monsieur; if it is a question of family history, I shall be glad to inform you. In other subjects I take but little interest."
"It is precisely that. I should liketo learn something about the noble ladies whose pictures hang on the wall yonder."
"Aha!" cried Knapwurst, his face lighting up; "you mean Elfreda and Huldine, the two wives of Hugh, the founder of Nideck."
Laying down his volume, he descended the ladder to talk more at his ease. His eyes glistened, and an air of gratification at this opportunity of displaying his learning shone out all over him.
Having reached my side, he saluted me with a grave bow. Sperver stood behind us, seemingly well satisfied to see me admiring the dwarf of Nideck. In spite of the ill luck which he averred attached to the presence of the pigmy, he admired and boasted of his great learning.
"IN THE PORTRAIT GALLERY.""IN THE PORTRAIT GALLERY."
"Monsieur," said Knapwurst, pointing with his long, yellow hand towards the portraits, "Hugh of Nideck, the founder of his race, married in 832Elfreda of Lutzelbourg, who brought to him as dowry the counties of Giromani and Haut Barr, the Castles of Geroldsdeck and Teufelshorn, and others. Hugh had no children by his first wife, who died young in the year of our Lord 837. Thereupon, Hugh, now lord and master of the dowry,refused to yield possession of it, and there followed terrible battles between himself and his brothers-in-law. His second wife, Huldine, whom you see in the steel breastplate, aided him by her wise counsels. She was a woman of indomitable courage, but her origin remains a mystery. One thing is certain, however: she rescuedher husband, who had been taken prisoner by Frantz of Lutzelbourg. He was to have been hanged that very day, and the iron bar had already been stretched across the battlements in preparation for the execution, when Huldine, at the head of a band of the Count's vassals whom she had inspired by her brave example, burst into the courtyard by a rear entrance, rescued Hugh, and had Frantz hung in his place. Hugh the Wolf married his second wife in 842, and by her he had three children."
"So," I resumed meditatively, "the first of these wives was called Elfreda, and the descendants of Nideck are not related to her?"
"No."
"Are you sure of this?"
"I can show you our genealogical tree. Elfreda had no children; Huldine, the second wife, had three."
"That is very surprising!"
"Why so?"
"I thought I noticed a resemblance."
"Ha, ha! resemblances!" exclaimed the dwarf with a harsh laugh; "wait a moment. Just look at this wooden snuff-box that lies beside the plaster greyhound! It represents my ancestor, Hanswurst. He has a nose like an extinguisher, and a sharp chin, while I have a flat nose and an agreeable mouth; and yet this does not prevent my being his great-great-grandson."
"No, certainly not."
"Well, it is the same with the Nidecks. They may have certain characteristics in common with Elfreda, butHuldine is the head of the line. Look at this genealogical tree, monsieur. Have I not informed you correctly?"
Then we separated,—Knapwurst and I,—the best of friends.
"Nevertheless," I said to myself, "the resemblance is there! Is it chance? Nonsense! What is chance, anyway, save that for which we fail to grasp the reason? No; there must be some other explanation of it!"
Buried in these reflections, I followed my friend Sperver, who had resumed his walk down the corridor. The portrait of Elfreda, that pure, artless face, blended in my fancy with that of the young Countess. Suddenly Gideon stopped. I looked up; we were standing before the Count's room.
"Go in, Gaston," he said; "I will see, meanwhile, if breakfast is ready, and be with you again in a minute."
I entered noiselessly, and made out, in the dim light, the broad figure of Becker, the forester, sprawled out leisurely in his armchair beside the bed and drowsing over his vigil.
The Count was sleeping quietly, with every indication that this desirable state of things would continue. Seeing no reason for remaining longer, I directed Becker to let me know at once if the master should wake, and I withdrew to the hall, where I met Sperver returning to get me.
"The Countess is waiting for you in the dining-room. She is overjoyed at the news of her father. Poor woman! It has been a hard strain upon her, forshe insists on remaining close beside the Count, and her strength is not equal to the task."
"So it seemed to me," I replied; and I secretly regretted that I saw no way in which I could properly suggest to the Countess that she should share her watchfulness more with others.
We reached the dining-room. Sperver announced me and departed.
My eyes fell first upon Odile, seated at the head of the table in a high-backed oaken chair. She was dressed in a gown of gray stuff, simply fashioned, with a bodice of white velvet worked in gold. Her superb figure was perfectly set off by the almost severe outlines of the dress.
"It is she," I thought: "Hugh's first wife. There is the noble forehead;there are the long lashes, the somewhat languid bearing, and the indescribable smile."
And as I gazed, the dream of last night recurred to me in all its charming vividness, and I felt that, far from entering upon her world but a few hours since, I had known her—aye, and loved her, too!—for years.
"Good morning, monsieur!" she said in answer to my salutation, as she rose and rested one hand on the chair-back. "It seems that your presence here has already worked a change for the better. Our good Sperver tells me that my father's condition is improved."
"I am delighted to be able to assure you that it is so, mademoiselle. We must endeavor to confirm these bettered conditions."
"I am so thankful!" she exclaimed. "Who knows but it was Providence that brought you here?" and she indicated my seat at the end of the table opposite her.
Bowing to the housekeeper, who sat before the broad fireplace, with her spectacles thrust back on her forehead, plying her busy needles, her lap filled with knitting-work which momentarily grew as she rocked back and forth in time to the ticking of the tall clock, I took the seat which Odile designated, experiencing a sense of rare contentment as I reflected upon my surroundings. Decidedly, my present employment combined pleasure with the exactions of duty.
No further mention of the Count's condition was made during the repast,Odile preferring apparently to confine herself to other subjects.
"Sperver," she said presently, "has often spoken of you to us with much pride and affection. Your relationship with the old steward is a romantic one, is it not?"
"Rather," I replied. "It began some twenty years ago with his pulling me out of a swamp into which I got myself, through my desire to imitate his custom of roaming the forest."
Then, as Odile smiled and seemed to be waiting for me to continue, I resumed:
"I distinctly remember how, one morning, I escaped the vigilance of my old nurse, Gideon's wife Gertrude, and arming myself with my father's old sabre, I sallied into the forest with avague notion of performing some similar exploits to those which Gideon was never tired of telling me. I had not gone far when, finding the forest very dark and lonely, and quite unlike what I had fancied it, I began to repent of my resolution and to wish I was safely at home again. The sabre, too, had grown very heavy, and everything about the undertaking having fallen far short of my anticipation, I turned around and began to retrace my steps. Having only such knowledge of direction as a boy of eight would be likely to have, I soon lost my way, and in attempting to cross the swamp of the Losser by picking my path along the tufts of grass above its surface, I lost my footing and slipped into the mud. Fortunately Sperver happened to bepassing in the neighborhood. He heard my cries, and promptly coming to my aid, he pulled me out and carried me to safer ground. Meanwhile my absence from home had been discovered, and the men servants had been sent in all directions to search for me. My father was so delighted at seeing me again, unharmed, in Sperver's arms, that he rewarded his ranger with a brand-new carbine and a brace of his favorite hounds."
I laughed as I recalled this incident, and the Countess joined me in it, continuing after a little:
"And your old home?"
"It has passed into other hands. On the death of both my parents, which occurred within a few years, I was left entirely without resources, save such asI could create for myself, and it became necessary to dispose of the estate in order to get the means which I required to pursue my studies."
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to be thus confiding to Odile my intimate affairs, though ordinarily I guarded such matters with jealous care; but I felt, I know not why, that her expression of interest was more a wish to learn the real facts of my condition than merely to evince a civil concern in my interests. Such feelings are intangible; they cannot be explained.
"You are living now in Tübingen?"
"Yes; after six years' study in Germany and France, I have returned to the scenes of earlier times to try what fortune may have in store for me. I feel that I never should be contented anywhere else; and I am better satisfied to remain here with a modest success than in the cities with, maybe, a more considerable one."
"How well I can understand that feeling," replied the Countess musingly. "Long ago, when we used to visit the court each year, I remember that, in spite of all its gaieties and pleasures, so well calculated to charm young minds, I was always glad when the time came to return to the Castle; and that for a girl of eighteen is unusual, I think."
I was silently musing upon the fair face opposite me, and the charming personality of my noble hostess, which piqued my curiosity and aroused in me a singular desire to learn more of it. The young Countess conductedthe affairs of the table with captivating grace, and the ready Offenloch was ever on the watch for her slightest nod or glance. Truly, I felt myself under a spell no less potent than the companions of Ulysses of old.
Rousing myself at length from these agreeable reflections, I resumed:
"You too, mademoiselle, are fond of the hunt, I suppose? for the Count's devotion to it is proverbial."
"Yes!" she replied, "when it is not a deer or fox that is being hunted. Somehow the wild boar claims less of my sympathy, for it is often a question which comes off the better, the man or the beast."
The truth of this remark it was reserved for me to learn at a later day.
"As for me, I have never had any experience in the chase, as the years which I might have spent so were passed in foreign cities, but some time I hope to give it a thorough trial."
A pause succeeded, during which Odile prepared the coffee. From time to time I glanced at Marie, whose admiration for my person expressed the evening before seemed in no way to have decreased, judging from the senile simper which invariably appeared on her face when she caught my eye.
"This Castle has an indescribable charm for me," I continued after a little; "it has such a delightfully ancient air, and its old stones seem so full of romance;" and my eyes wandered to the two suits of armor at the further end of the room, which from their shadowycorners nodded at each other, gaunt and sightless, in the uncertain firelight.
"I am fond of it," replied Odile; "indeed, I feel that I could never be happy anywhere else; but at times it is lonely, nevertheless."
Then I began to reflect upon the singular vow which this charming young creature, so eminently lovable in every trait of character and person, had taken, it seemed almost wantonly and in a spirit of perversity; and yet I was satisfied that no such explanation could be sufficient, for I felt instinctively that no small or trivial thought could gain admittance to Odile's mind.
"Perhaps," I thought, "some day the wanderer will come to implant the magic kiss, and she, like others of hersisters, will be obliged to obey the inexorable laws of the little god."
So I thought. It seemed to me that one might be happy here, could he continue forever, as I was then, in Odile's companionship, amid gay companies and festivals, hunting-parties and the like, which I felt would become immediately inaugurated, were the Count's recovery to become an established fact. Then my thoughts reverted once more to my patient, and, speculating for the fiftieth time on all that Sperver had told me of his master, I was recalled to a less alluring train of reflections, and I became grave as I realized the burden of duty which rested upon me.
An hour passed, the breakfast was finished. I rose and took leave of the Countess, who inclined her head with afriendly smile. As I stepped into the hallway, I descried Sperver in the distance.
"The Count has waked, and he wishes to see you," he said, as he reached me.
"He is no worse?" I asked.
"Apparently not; he seems quiet enough."
Still engrossed with the experience of the last hour passed in the dining-room, I moved along with Sperver down the corridor.
I entered the Count's chamber. What was my surprise to perceive in the half-light of the alcove, the master of Nideck raised upon his elbow and studying me with profound attention. I had so little anticipated such a reception, that I paused in surprise.
"Come here, doctor," he said in a faint but steady voice, reaching out his hand. "My good Sperver has often spoken to me of you, and I have been anxious to make your acquaintance."
"Let us hope, monsieur," I replied, "that it may be continued under moreauspicious circumstances; a little patience, and all will be well!"
"I fear not," he replied; "I feel that the end is drawing near."
"You are mistaken, monsieur."
"No! Nature grants us, as a last favor, a presentiment of our approaching end."
"How often have I seen such presentiments disproved!" I returned, smiling.
He gazed fixedly at me, as sick people are wont to do when they are in doubt as to their true condition. It is a trying moment for the doctor; upon his expression depends the moral strength of the sufferer; if the sick man detect the suspicion of a doubt, all is lost; dissolution begins, the soul prepares to quit the body, and the malady holds full sway. I passed firmly through theordeal; the Count seemed reassured; he pressed my hand again, and released it, calmer and more confident.
During the pause which followed, Odile and Marie Lagoutte entered the room. They must have followed close behind us. They seated themselves in the two chairs which occupied the embrasure of the window, and Marie resumed her knitting, while Odile spread open a portfolio on her lap and seemed to be studying it.
Soon the Count's glance wandered from my face to that of his daughter, whom he continued to regard fixedly for a long time in silence.
This somewhat oppressive quiet continued, broken only by the jarring of the casements, the monotone of the wind, and the sound of the snow asit swirled and whispered against the panes.
After a half hour of this, the Count suddenly began to speak:
"If my beloved child Odile would but grant my request, if she would only consent to let me hope that one day she would fulfil the desire of my heart, I believe that alone would accomplish my recovery!" I glanced quickly at Odile; she had closed her book, and her eyes were fastened on the floor. I noticed that she had become deathly pale.
"Yes," continued the sick man, "I should return to life and happiness! The prospect of seeing myself surrounded by a new branch of our family, of embracing my grandchildren, and of seeing the perpetuation of ourhouse ensured, would suffice to cure me."
I felt moved at the mild and gentle pleading of the sufferer. The young woman made no reply. After a minute or two, the Count, who looked entreatingly at her, pursued:
"Odile, you refuse to make your father happy. My God! I only ask for hope; I fix no time! I do not seek to control your choice! We will go to court, and choose from a hundred noble suitors. Who would not be proud to win my daughter's hand? You shall be free to decide for yourself."
He paused. Nothing is more painful to a stranger than these family discussions. There are so many conflicting interests, deep emotions, andsacred feelings involved, that our innate delicacy demands that we hold aloof from such scenes. I was pained, and would gladly have withdrawn, but the circumstances did not permit of it.
"Father," said Odile, as if to evade further insistence on the sick man's part, "you will recover. Heaven will not take you from us who love you so dearly. If you only knew with what loving fervor I pray for you!"
"That is not answering my question," said the Count drily. "What objection have you to my proposal? Is it not just and natural? Must I be deprived of the consolations accorded the most wretched? Have I made use of force or trickery?"
"No, father!"
"Then why do you refuse me?"
"My resolution is taken; I have consecrated myself to God."
So much firmness in so frail a being astonished me. She stood there like the sculptured Madonna in Hugh's Tower,—fragile, calm, impassive.
The eyes of the Count glowed with feverish brightness. I endeavored to prevail upon the Countess, as best I could by signs, to give him a grain of hope, that his growing agitation might be calmed; but she did not appear to see me.
"So," he cried in a voice choked with emotion, "you will see your father perish! A single word would save his life,—a word from your lips,—and you will not pronounce it."
"Life is not within the gift of man, but of God alone," she murmured;"a word from me could be of no avail."
"These are nothing but pious maxims," cried the Count bitterly, "to ease your conscience in refusing to do your duty! Has not God commanded, 'Honor thy father and thy mother'?"
"I do honor you, my father," she replied gently; "but it is my duty not to marry."
I could hear the Count grind his teeth. He lay for a few moments, apparently calm, then he suddenly sprang up.
"Out of my sight!" he screamed; "your presence is hideous to me!"
Then turning to me:
"Doctor," he cried with a savage smile, "have you a poison about you,—a poison that slays with the quicknessof a lightning flash? It is only merciful to give it to me! Ah, God! If you knew how I suffer!"
His features worked convulsively; he became livid. Odile had risen and moved towards the door.
"'STAY!' HE HOWLED, 'I HAVE NOT CURSED YOU YET.'""'STAY!' HE HOWLED, 'I HAVE NOT CURSED YOU YET.'"
"Stay!" he howled; "I have not cursed you yet!"
Up to this point, I had restrained myself, not daring to interfere between the father and his child; but I could endure it no longer.
"Monsieur," I exclaimed; "in the name of your own health, in the name of reason, calm yourself! Your life depends upon it!"
"What matters my life? What matters the future? Oh, if I were only done with it all!"
His excitement increased with everymoment. I feared lest, crazed with passion, he might spring from the bed and destroy his own child. She, still calm, but with cheeks as pale as his, fell on her knees before the threshold. At this moment, I succeeded in getting the Count to swallow a few drops of laudanum. He fell back with a long sigh, and soon hisirregular breathing gave way to deep and leaden slumber.
Odile arose, and her old governess, who had remained silent throughout, left the room with her. Sperver and I watched them as they slowlywithdrew. There was a calm grandeur in the step of the Countess that bespoke a consciousness of duty fulfilled.
When she had disappeared in the shadows of the corridor, Gideon turned to me: "Well, Gaston," he said gravely;"what do you think of this?" I bowed my head without replying. The unaccountable firmness of the young woman dumbfounded me.
"Come Gaston!" exclaimed Sperver indignantly, "let's get a breath of fresh air! I'm strangling here!" and he pulled me out of the chamber.
"That is the happiness of high-born people!" he exclaimed, as we stepped into the hall. "What is the use of being master of Nideck, with its fine Castle, forests, and game-preserves, and all else, if your own daughter can blight your life,—even cause your death, perhaps, by a nod of her head or a mincing refusal to obey your will? It would be a thousand times better to come into the world the son of a humble woodcutter, and live in the quiet accomplishmentof your labor. Come down to my den, and we will drink a glass and have a pipe. I know nothing better to put care to flight than a good stiff glass."
It was then about nine o'clock. The sky, so clear at daybreak, had become overcast; the north wind was whirling the flakes against the window-panes, and I could hardly distinguish the peaks of the neighboring mountains. We were descending the staircase which led to the main courtyard, when, at a turn of the corridor, we came face to face with Tobias Offenloch. The worthy majordomo was puffing like a porpoise.
"Hullo!" said Gideon; "where are you going in such a hurry?"
"To tell the Countess that the Baron Zimmer begs the privilege of payinghis respects to her before quitting the Castle."
"Baron Zimmer?"
"Yes, the stranger who came in last night at midnight."
"To be sure," replied Sperver; "I was forgetting."
We went along. A moment later we reached our destination. My companion pushed open the door and we went in.
We sat down before the hearth. Gideon possessed himself of a corkscrew and two bottles, and soon our glasses were filled and pipes aglow. We were about to begin a discussion of the singular scene of a few moments before, when Offenloch appeared, but not alone, for to our astonishment we saw the Baron Zimmer and his valetfollowing at his heels. We rose. The young Baron approached to greet us with uncovered head, and I studied with interest his handsome face, pale and haughty, with long, black locks falling about it. He paused before Sperver.
"Monsieur," he said, with that pure Saxon accent that no dialect can imitate, "I come to ask you about the country hereabouts. Mademoiselle the Countess of Nideck assures me that no one can inform me as well as yourself in regard to the passes of the Wald Horn."
"I believe that is true, monsieur," replied Sperver with a low bow; "and I am entirely at your service."
"Imperative reasons compel me to set out in the midst of this storm," resumedthe Baron, pointing to the eddying flakes outside; "I must reach the Wald Horn, six leagues from here, before nightfall."
"That will be a difficult matter, monsieur, for all the roads are blocked with snow."
"I know it, but it must be done."
"A guide will be indispensable in that case. I will go with you if you like, monsieur, or Sebalt Kraft, the master of the hounds; he knows every inch of the mountain from Unterwalden to the Hunsdruck."
"Thank you for your obliging offer; I appreciate it most fully, but I cannot accept it; your instructions will be sufficient."
Sperver bowed again, and going over to a window, threw it wide open. Aquick gust of wind whirled the snow clear across the room and closed the door with a crash. I remained standing with one hand resting on the back of my chair; Tobias took refuge from the cold draught in a corner of thechamber. The Baron and his servant approached the window.