XVIII.
THE brave and prudent major had just made these arrangements, when a shadow passed close to him just as he was groping his way back to the bear-room to continue his examination, for he had yet to receive M. Goefle’s opinion—a most important one—about all that had happened in relation to Christian. This shadow moved with an uncertain step, and the major resolved to follow it, and did so, until, on encountering the wall of the donjon, it began to swear in rather a mild voice, which Christian recognized as that of Olof Bœtsoi, the son of the danneman.
“Whom do you want to see, my child?” he said, taking him by the arm. “And how is it that you have come here, instead of returning to your house?”
As he spoke, they all three entered the bear-room together.
“Faith, if you had not been there,” said Olof to Christian, “I should have been a long time looking for the door. I know the outside of Stollborg well, I could come to it with my eyes shut, but I don’t know anything about the inside! I have never been here in my life before. You can suppose that I could not return to the mountain right off, in this cursed weather. At last it began to brighten a little, and, after passing two hours at the major’s bostoelle, I set out on foot, lest my father should be uneasy; but, first of all, I wanted to bring back a portfolio which you left in the sleigh, Herr Christian. Here it is. I have not opened it. Whatever was in it you will find as you left it. I did not wish to intrust it to any one, for my father has often told me that papers are sometimes more precious than money.”
And Olof, in concluding, handed Christian a portfolio of black morocco, which he did not recognize at all.
“It is yours, perhaps,” he said to the major. “It may have been in the coat that you lent me.”
“No, I never saw it before,” replied Larrson.
“Then possibly it belongs to the lieutenant?”
“Oh, no indeed!” cried Martina; “he has no portfolios, except those that I embroider for him.”
“It is easy to find out, at any rate,” said the major; “he is close by, in thegaard.”
“Wait a moment!” cried M. Goefle, who was always on the breach with his fixed idea. “Did you not tell me, Christian, that you had upset the baron this evening, on returning from the hunt?”
“I told you that the baron had overturned me, and was upset himself in consequence,” replied Christian.
“It is all the same thing,” rejoined the lawyer; “whatever was in the two sleighs must have rolled pell-mell together on the road; and this—”
“It belongs to the physician, I wager!” said Christian. “Leave it here, Olof; we will send it to him.”
“Give it to me!” resumed M. Goefle, in a brief, authoritative tone. “The only way of finding out to whom an anonymous portfolio belongs, is to open it, and that shall be my duty.”
“You assume the responsibility, Monsieur Goefle?” said the scrupulous major.
“Yes, monsieur,” replied M. Goefle, opening the portfolio, “and I call upon you to witness what I do. You are here to examine the facts of a lawsuit, which it will perhaps be my mission to plead. Here is a letter from M. Johan to his master. I know his writing, and at the first glance, I see in it: ‘The man with the marionettes—Guido Massarelli—The chamber of roses!’—Ah, indeed! the baron, like the senate, assumes the privilege of having his own! Major, this document is very important, and the other, perhaps—for there are two—is still more so. Your commission requires you to acquaint yourself with them.”
“May I go?” said the young danneman, who, like the peasants of all countries, was terribly afraid of the law, and who accordingly, as soon as he began vaguely to understand that the examination for a suit wasgoing on, wanted to make his escape, lest he should be involved in it by having to give his testimony.
“No,” replied the major, “you must remain and listen.”
He turned to Margaret and Martina, who were whispering together about the possibility of returning to the new chateau, and laid the same injunction upon them.
“I beg and require you,” he said, “to remain also, and listen. Our opponent is very powerful, and we may be accused of having forged false proofs. In this case documents have been placed in our hands in your presence, and you must learn their contents at the same time with ourselves.”
“No no!” cried Christian; “these ladies must not be mixed up in a lawsuit.”
“I am grieved that it must be so, Christian,” replied the major; “but the laws are stronger than we, and I shall do what they require me to do, rigorously. A man has been killed this evening whom it would certainly be more to our advantage to hold alive. I know that you had nothing to do with this, and that you yourself were wounded in the scuffle in which he perished. You are passionate—you are brave and generous—but you are not prudent in what concerns yourself. As for me, I tell you that this affair may lead you to the scaffold, because you acknowledge honestly having given provocation to your enemies, while the rogues deny insolently their part in the transaction. Let us read, then, and neglect no means of making the truth triumph.”
“Yes, yes, major, read, I am listening!” cried Margaret, who had turned pale as she looked at Christian’s bloody sleeve; “I will testify, no matter at what cost!”
Christian would have refused to take advantage of the devotion of this noble girl, and he could ill endure the authority which the major assumed over her. The major, however, was right, and Christian felt this, since in this affair the honor of the officer was at stake no less than his own. He seated himself brusquely, and covered his face with his hands to conceal and repress the vehement emotions by whichhe was agitated, while the major read in a loud voice the journal of Master Johan, written by himself, and sent to the baron during the hunt.
“This seems to me a very mysterious document,” he said, on concluding it; “it proves a deep-laid plot against Christian, but—”
“But you cannot understand,” said M. Goefle, who, while the major was reading, had rapidly glanced through the second paper contained in the portfolio, “such hatred against an unknown, without name, without family, and without fortune, on the part of the high and mighty seigneur the Baron de Waldemora. Well, for my part, I understand it perfectly, and, since we see the effect, it is time to know the cause; here it is—Lift up your head, Christian de Waldemora!” added M. Goefle, striking the table with energy; “for Heaven has led you here, and old Stenson was right in saying, ‘The wealth of the sinner is laid up for the just.’”
During the silence that followed—for all were struck dumb with amazement—M. Goefle read aloud what follows:
“Declaration intrusted by me, Adam Stenson, to Taddeo Manasses, Merchant, born in Perugia: To be delivered up to Christian on the day when the circumstances herein mentioned shall permit:“Adelstan Christian de Waldemora, son of the noble Seigneur Christian Adelstan, Baron de Waldemora, and the noble lady Hilda de Blixen, born the fifteenth of September, 1746, in the castle of Stollborg, in the chamber called that of the bear, on the domain of Waldemora, province of Dalecarlia;“Secretly confided to the care of Anna Bœtsoi, wife of the danneman Karl Bœtsoi, by me, the undersigned, Adam Stenson, and by Karine Bœtsoi, daughter of the above-named, and confidential waiting-woman of the deceased Baroness Hilda de Waldemora,néede Blixen;“The said infant suckled by a tame doe, and brought up in the house of the said danneman Karl Bœtsoi, on the mountain of Blaakdal, until theage of four years, where he passed for the son of Karine Bœtsoi, who, out of devotion for her deceased mistress, consented to be thought bewitched, and in communication with evil spirits, and who thus preserved the child, of whom she called herself the mother, from the pursuit of hisenemies;“The said child, carried away by me, Adam Stenson, to withdraw it from suspicions, by which his safety was beginning to be compromised, in spite of the precautions hitherto taken;“Was taken by me, the undersigned, to Austria, where I have a married sister, who can testify to having seen me arrive at her house with a child named Christian, speaking the Dalecarlian language;“And, by the advice of my very faithful friend and confidant, Taddeo Manasses, of the religion of the Old Testament, and formerly well known in Sweden, under the name of Manasses, and very highly esteemed by his lordship the late Baron Adelstan de Waldemora, as a man of his word, and of discretion and honesty in his business, the trading in objects of art, of which the said baron was a great amateur;“I, the undersigned, went to the city of Perugia, in Italy, where then resided the above-mentioned Manasses, and where, during the carnival, I presented myself, being masked, to the very honorable couple, Silvio Goffredi, Professor of Ancient History in the University of Perugia, and Sophia Negrisoli, his legitimate wife, of the family of the illustrious physician of that name;“And to them surrendered, confided, and, as it might be said,gavethe said Christian de Waldemora, without making known to them his family name, his country, or the special reasons which had made me resolve to separate from him;“In giving this well-beloved child to the above-mentioned Goffredis, I believed that I was fulfilling the wish of the deceased Baroness Hilda, who desired that he should be brought up far fromhis enemies, by learned and virtuous people, who, without any selfish motive, would love him like their own son, and make him what he should be, in order to sustain worthily, some day, the name he is to bear,and the rank he is to recover, after the death ofhis enemies, the which death, according to the order of nature, ought greatly to precede his own;“And, in case the death of the undersigned should occur before that of thesaid enemies, the undersigned has charged Taddeo Manasses to make such inquiries as may be necessary, so that, at the death ofhis enemies, Christian de Waldemora should be warned, and put into possession of the present declaration: in faith of which—after having made a contract with my good friend Taddeo Manasses, who is never to lose sight of the said Christian de Waldemora, who is to reside where he shall reside, and to come to his assistance if other protection shall fail him; who, in case of serious illness, threatening him with death, is to put another person sure as himself in his place, to fulfil the same duties; and finally, who is to give once a year news of his welfare to the undersigned—the undersigned, wishing to keep his place in the chateau de Waldemora, so as not to arouse suspicions, and to earn money to provide against coming emergencies, the probable removals, and journeys of Taddeo, and the eventual needs of the said child, quitted, not without grief, the city of Perugia, to return to Sweden, the sixteenth of March, 1750, believing and hoping to have done what was best to preserve from all danger, and to place in a happy and honorable situation, the son of his deceased master and mistress.“Adam Stenson.“Witness:“Taddeo Manasses,“Sworn keeper of the paintings in the Exchange, at Perugia.”
“Declaration intrusted by me, Adam Stenson, to Taddeo Manasses, Merchant, born in Perugia: To be delivered up to Christian on the day when the circumstances herein mentioned shall permit:
“Adelstan Christian de Waldemora, son of the noble Seigneur Christian Adelstan, Baron de Waldemora, and the noble lady Hilda de Blixen, born the fifteenth of September, 1746, in the castle of Stollborg, in the chamber called that of the bear, on the domain of Waldemora, province of Dalecarlia;
“Secretly confided to the care of Anna Bœtsoi, wife of the danneman Karl Bœtsoi, by me, the undersigned, Adam Stenson, and by Karine Bœtsoi, daughter of the above-named, and confidential waiting-woman of the deceased Baroness Hilda de Waldemora,néede Blixen;
“The said infant suckled by a tame doe, and brought up in the house of the said danneman Karl Bœtsoi, on the mountain of Blaakdal, until theage of four years, where he passed for the son of Karine Bœtsoi, who, out of devotion for her deceased mistress, consented to be thought bewitched, and in communication with evil spirits, and who thus preserved the child, of whom she called herself the mother, from the pursuit of hisenemies;
“The said child, carried away by me, Adam Stenson, to withdraw it from suspicions, by which his safety was beginning to be compromised, in spite of the precautions hitherto taken;
“Was taken by me, the undersigned, to Austria, where I have a married sister, who can testify to having seen me arrive at her house with a child named Christian, speaking the Dalecarlian language;
“And, by the advice of my very faithful friend and confidant, Taddeo Manasses, of the religion of the Old Testament, and formerly well known in Sweden, under the name of Manasses, and very highly esteemed by his lordship the late Baron Adelstan de Waldemora, as a man of his word, and of discretion and honesty in his business, the trading in objects of art, of which the said baron was a great amateur;
“I, the undersigned, went to the city of Perugia, in Italy, where then resided the above-mentioned Manasses, and where, during the carnival, I presented myself, being masked, to the very honorable couple, Silvio Goffredi, Professor of Ancient History in the University of Perugia, and Sophia Negrisoli, his legitimate wife, of the family of the illustrious physician of that name;
“And to them surrendered, confided, and, as it might be said,gavethe said Christian de Waldemora, without making known to them his family name, his country, or the special reasons which had made me resolve to separate from him;
“In giving this well-beloved child to the above-mentioned Goffredis, I believed that I was fulfilling the wish of the deceased Baroness Hilda, who desired that he should be brought up far fromhis enemies, by learned and virtuous people, who, without any selfish motive, would love him like their own son, and make him what he should be, in order to sustain worthily, some day, the name he is to bear,and the rank he is to recover, after the death ofhis enemies, the which death, according to the order of nature, ought greatly to precede his own;
“And, in case the death of the undersigned should occur before that of thesaid enemies, the undersigned has charged Taddeo Manasses to make such inquiries as may be necessary, so that, at the death ofhis enemies, Christian de Waldemora should be warned, and put into possession of the present declaration: in faith of which—after having made a contract with my good friend Taddeo Manasses, who is never to lose sight of the said Christian de Waldemora, who is to reside where he shall reside, and to come to his assistance if other protection shall fail him; who, in case of serious illness, threatening him with death, is to put another person sure as himself in his place, to fulfil the same duties; and finally, who is to give once a year news of his welfare to the undersigned—the undersigned, wishing to keep his place in the chateau de Waldemora, so as not to arouse suspicions, and to earn money to provide against coming emergencies, the probable removals, and journeys of Taddeo, and the eventual needs of the said child, quitted, not without grief, the city of Perugia, to return to Sweden, the sixteenth of March, 1750, believing and hoping to have done what was best to preserve from all danger, and to place in a happy and honorable situation, the son of his deceased master and mistress.
“Adam Stenson.
“Witness:
“Taddeo Manasses,
“Sworn keeper of the paintings in the Exchange, at Perugia.”
“Speak, Christian!” said M. Goefle to his young friend, who remained silent and stupefied. “Everything must be verified. Was this Manasses really an honest man?”
“I have no reason to doubt it,” replied Christian.
“Did he not offer you assistance, at one time, on the part of your family?”
“Yes; I refused it.”
“Do you know his signature?”
“Perfectly. He had several business transactions with M. Goffredi.”
“Look at this: is it his writing?”
“It is his writing.”
“For my part,” said M. Goefle, “I recognize perfectly, in the body of the document, the hand and style of Adam Stenson. Will you be so good as to open this portfolio, major, and verify the similitude? These are the accounts of his affairs, prepared and signed by the old steward at nearly the same period; that is to say, in 1751 and 1752. Besides, his writing has not changed, and his hand is still firm. Here is the proof of it: these three verses of the Bible written yesterday, and whose application, as interpreted by him, is quite evident, and will be useful in evidence.”
The major made the verification, but the whole affair, if not utterly enigmatical, still seemed to him very obscure. Had the baron forged false documents to establish that his sister-in-law had left no heirs to contest his rights? He was quite capable of this, but M. Goefle had seen these documents. They were actually in his possession, having been confided to him by his father, whom he had succeeded.
“I have these documents at my house in Gevala, in fact,” replied M. Goefle. “They have been verified by experts, and are authentic; but has it not been fully proved, at present, that they were extorted from the Baroness Hilda by constraint or fear? Be calm, Christian, all will be explained. Stay, major, here is another piece of evidence, discovered yesterday, in a dress, which I will show you; a letter from Baron Adelstan to his wife: read it, and calculate the dates. The hope of maternity was confirmed on the fifth of March, perhaps after two or three months of uncertainty. The child was born on the fifteenth of September; the baroness took refuge here during the first few days of the said month. She was probably kept a prisoner here, and she died on the twenty-eighth of December, of the same year. Here is another proof: look at this miniature! Look at it, Margaret Elveda! It is CountAdelstan, who certainly did not have it painted for the emergencies of a suit; the painter is celebrated, and he has dated and signed his work. And yet it is the portrait of Christian Waldo! The resemblance is striking. Lastly, look at this life-size portrait of the count. The resemblance is quite as remarkable. This is not the work of such a skilful artist, but he has rendered the hands faithfully, and you can see the bent fingers: show yours, Christian!”
“Ah!” cried Christian, who was walking up and down the room in a state of extreme excitement, and who allowed M. Goefle to seize his trembling hands, “if Baron Olaus has made my mother suffer martyrdom, woe to him! These hooked fingers shall tear his heart from his breast.”
“Let him give vent to his Italian passion,” said M. Goefle, who had risen, fearing that Christian was going to rush out. “He is a generous nature; I know him—I know his whole life. He must give voice to his grief and his indignation; do not you understand? But have patience, Christian! the baron, perhaps, has not been so criminal in the past as we suppose. We must learn all the particulars—we must see Stenson again. It is absolutely necessary, major, that Stenson should be delivered and brought back here, and yet you will not consent to do it.”
“You know perfectly well that I cannot!” cried the major, very much agitated and excited. “I have no rights over the authority of the seigneur, above all in the punishment of a domestic, and if the baron wants to make this old man suffer, he will not want for pretexts—”
Here the major was interrupted by Christian, who could no longer restrain his impetuosity.
“What!” he cried, “do you not see that they shrink from nothing in that den? I understand, too well, what they mean by theirchamber of roses, as they call it in bitter and horrible mockery. And that poor old man, who has nothing left but his breath, that faithful servant, who saved me frommy enemies, as he says in his declaration, and who, after that long and fatiguing journey, hasdevoted to me a whole life of privation and labor silently endured, shall I leave him now to perish for me, at this very hour, in torments? No, it is impossible; you shall not hold me back, major! I do not recognize your authority over me, and, even if I must cut my way out from here, sword in hand—well, so much the worse, you would have it so.”
“Silence!” cried M. Goefle, snatching from Christian’s hands the sword which the young man had just seized from the table. “Silence! Listen! some one is walking over our heads in the walled-up room.”
“How can that be possible,” said the major, “if it is really walled up? Besides, I do not hear anything.”
“Nor do I hear any footsteps,” replied M. Goefle, “but be quiet, and look at the chandelier.”
They looked without speaking, and not only did they see the chandelier tremble, but heard also the faint jingling of the brass ornaments striking together, as they were shaken by some movement in the upper story.
“It must be Stenson!” cried Christian. “No one else can know the outside passages.”
“But are there any?” said the major.
“Who knows?” replied Christian. “For my part, I think so, though I was not able to satisfy myself fully. I noticed a breach in the wall as high as to the second story, but that did not seem to me practicable. But hush!—do you hear anything more?”
They listened, and heard, or thought they heard, a door open, and then followed a faint knocking or scratching on the walled-up door of the bear-room. Had Stenson escaped from the hands of his enemies, and not daring to return to thegaardby the court, which he would suppose to be in their hands, had he entered the donjon by a passage known to himself alone? Was he calling his friends to his assistance, or giving them a mysterious warning, that they might expect a new attack? The major considered these conjectures chimerical; but, before they could make any investigations, they were interrupted by the lieutenant, who entered with Danneman Bœtsoi.
“Here is one of our friends,” he said, “who has come from ourbostoelles, where he has been looking for his son. Is he not here?”
“Yes, yes, my father!” replied Olof, who was very much alarmed at all that he had heard, and was quite pleased to see the danneman arrive. “Were you uneasy about me?”
“Uneasy, no!” replied the danneman, who had just descended a dangerous mountain-road in this frightful weather to look for his child, but who considered it derogatory to his paternal dignity to acknowledge his solicitude. “I knew that our friends would not let you start alone; but, because of the horse, which might have been lamed—”
While the danneman was explaining his anxiety after this fashion, the lieutenant made a communication to the major, by which the latter seemed very much struck.
“What is the matter?” asked M. Goefle.
“The matter is,” replied Larrson, “that we have, one and all of us, given ourselves up to gloomy ideas that are making us very ridiculous. The lieutenant, while making his round, heard what seemed to be the lamentation of a human voice sweeping through the air, and the soldiers are so frightened at all that they have heard of the Gray Lady of Stollborg, that, but for their excellent discipline, they would already have decamped. It is time to have done with these dreams, and since there is no way of penetrating into this walled-up room from within, we must examine the outside of the building carefully, and see whether the brigands of the new chateau are not making use of this phantasmagoria at this very moment, to entrap us in some way. Come with us, Christian, since you are convinced, you say, that there must be some means of climbing up there.”
“No no!” replied Christian; “it would take too long to look, and perhaps we should not find a practicable ascent after all. It will be surer and quicker to break down this wall. It is only to knock out the first brick.”
Even while talking, Christian had torn the great map of Sweden from its rings, and, armed with the hammer that he used in his scientific excursions, he attacked the partition under it with desperate vigor, sometimes striking the resounding brick surface with the square endof the instrument, and sometimes thrusting the sharp edge into the holes he had succeeded in making, pulling down violently great masses of the wall, welded together with mortar, and which fell with a hollow sound upon the sonorous staircase. It would have been useless to oppose him. He was possessed, driven on by a sort of fury, that compelled him to escape from the inactivity to which he had been condemned. The strange suspicions he had already conceived that some person was imprisoned in this ruin, returned to him like a nightmare. He was under such excitement that he was even ready to admit the truth of the superstitious ideas to which M. Goefle had yielded belief in this very place, and to suppose that he had been summoned by a supernatural warning to discover the infernal secret which had enveloped his mother’s dying moments with gloom and mystery.
“Stand out of the way! stand out of the way!” he cried to M. Goefle, who, impelled by a similar anxiety, mingled with curiosity, was hurrying up every instant to the foot of the staircase; “if the wall should crumble and fall suddenly, I could not prevent it.”
In fact, the superadded partition, which extended over quite a large surface, was completely undermined by Christian’s furious onslaught; it was giving way, tottering, falling in every direction. The intrepid assailant was covered with dust, and seemed protected only by a miracle in the midst of a rain of bricks and cement. His friends dared not speak any longer; they scarcely dared to breathe; every instant they thought to see him buried under the falling fragments, or struck by some flying brick. A cloud enveloped him, when he cried:
“Victory! here is the continuation of the staircase. Bring a light, Monsieur Goefle!—”
And, without waiting, he rushed into the darkness. But in the few seconds that elapsed, while he was groping for the door, which he found half-open before him, the major had time to join him.
“Christian,” he said, holding him back, “if you have any friendship for me, any deference for my rank, you will let me go first. M. Goeflebelieves that we shall find here decisive proofs of your rights, and you cannot testify in your own cause. Besides, beware! These proofs may be of a character to make you shrink back with horror.”
“I will support the sight of them,” replied Christian, made desperate by this thought, which was already his own. “I wish to know the truth, even if it should crush me. Go first, Osmund, it is your right; but I follow you; it is my duty.”
“No!” cried M. Goefle, who, together with the danneman and the lieutenant, had rapidly ascended the staircase behind the major, and who threw himself resolutely before the door. “You shall not pass, Christian! You shall not enter without my permission. You are violent, but I am obstinate. Will you lay your hand upon me?”
Christian drew back, vanquished. The major entered with M. Goefle; the lieutenant and the danneman remained on the threshold, between them and Christian.
The major took a few steps into this mysterious chamber, which was scarcely lighted at all by the glimmering of the candle brought by M. Goefle. It was a large room, finished with heavy wood-work, like the bear-room, but entirely empty, dilapidated, and a hundred times more lugubrious than that apartment. Suddenly the major drew back and lowered his voice, so as not to be heard by Christian, who was standing so near the entrance.
“Look!” he said to M. Goefle; “look there, on the floor!”
“It is true, then,” replied M. Goefle, in the same tone; “this, indeed, is horrible! Go on, major! courage! We must know all.”
They approached a human form, which was lying at the end of the room, the body bent forward and apparently kneeling, the head leaning against the wainscot, as far as they could judge; for it was almost entirely concealed by the black and dusty veil with which the whole form was enveloped.
“It is she! it is the phantom I beheld!” said M. Goefle, recognizing under this veil the gray robe, with its soiled and trailing ribbons.“It is the Baroness Hilda, dead, or a prisoner.”
“It is a living person,” said the major, as he raised the veil with a hand trembling with emotion; “but it is not the Baroness Hilda. This is a woman whom I know. Come here, Joë Bœtsoi! Come in, Christian. There is nothing here that you need fear to behold. It is only poor Karine, swooning or asleep.”
“No, no,” said the danneman, approaching his sister softly; “she is not asleep, she is not fainting; she is saying her prayers, and her soul is in heaven. Do not touch her, do not speak to her until she rises.”
“But how did she get here?” said M. Goefle.
“Oh, as to that,” replied the danneman, “it is a gift she has to go wherever she wishes, and to enter, like the bird of the night, through the cracks of old walls. She goes, without a thought, into places where I have sometimes followed her, recommending my soul to God. For that reason, I am never uneasy when she disappears from the house; I know that there is avirtuein her, and that she cannot fall. But see, she has finished praying within herself! she rises; she is going towards the door. She takes her keys from her belt. Those are keys which she has always kept like relics, and we did not know where they came from—”
“Watch her,” said M. Goefle, “since she does not seem either to see or hear us. What is she doing now?”
“Oh,” said the danneman, “that is a habit that she has, of trying to find a door when she comes up to certain walls. See, she rests the key upon it, and turns it, then she sees that she is mistaken, and goes further on.”
“Ah,” said M. Goefle, “that accounts for the little circles traced on the wall in the bear-room.”
“Can I speak to her?” said Christian, who had approached Karine.
“You can,” replied the danneman; “she will answer you, if your voice pleases her.”
“Karine Bœtsoi,” said Christian, “what are you looking for here?”
“Do not call me Karine Bœtsoi,” she replied; “Karine is dead. I am thevalaof ancient days,—she who must not be named!”
“Where do you wish to go?”
“To the bear-room. Have they walled up the door already?”
“No,” said Christian, “I will lead you there. Will you give me your hand?”
“Go on,” said Karine, “I will follow you.”
“Do you see me, then?”
“What should prevent me from seeing you? Are we not in the land of the dead? Are not you poor Baron Adelstan? You have come to ask me for the mother of your child. I have just been praying for her and for him. And now—come, come, I will tell you all!”
And Karine, who seemed suddenly to recognize where she was, passed through the door, and went down the staircase into the bear-room, where Margaret and Martina were terribly frightened by her appearance, although young Olof, who had gone up to the door, and heard all that was going on, had assured them that they had nothing to fear from the poor seeress.
“Do not be afraid of her,” said Christian, who was following Karine a little in advance of the two officers, M. Goefle, and the danneman, and who paused, when she did, near the young ladies: “watch all her movements; and try, as I am doing, to guess what she is dreaming about. Does she not seem to be rendering the last duties to a person who has just died?”
“Yes,” replied Margaret, “she closes their eyes, she kisses their hands, and crosses them upon their breast. And now she weaves an imaginary crown, and places it upon their head. Stay, she is looking for some one—”
“Are you looking for me, Karine?” said Christian to the seeress.
“Are you Adelstan, the good iarl?” replied Karine. “Ah well, listen, and behold: you see that your well beloved has ceased to suffer! She has gone to the land of the elfs. The wicked iarl said: ‘She shall die here,’ and she is dead; but he said also: ‘If a son is born to her, it shall die first.’ But he counted without Karine. Karine was there;she received the child, she saved it, she gave it to the fairies of the lake, and the Snow Man never knew that it was born. And Karine has never told her secret, even in fever and in grief! She speaks now, because the belfry of the chateau is ringing for the dead. Do you not hear it?”
“Can it be true?” cried the major, opening the window in all haste: “no, I do not hear anything. She is dreaming.”
“If it is not ringing, it will not delay long,” replied the danneman. “Already, this morning, she heard it, from our mountain. We knew that it could not be; but we knew also that she hears in advance, as she sees in advance, the things that are to be.”
Karine, feeling the air from the window, approached.
“It was here,” she said, “it was to this window that Karine Bœtsoi brought the child, so that it should fly away.”
And she began to sing the refrain of the ballad that Christian had heard in the fog.
“The child of the lake, more beautiful than the star of the evening—”
“Is that a song that your mistress taught you?” asked M. Goefle.
But Karine did not seem to hear any voice but Christian’s.
Martina Akerstrom replied for her:
“Yes, yes,” she said, “I know that ballad perfectly well: it was composed by the Baroness Hilda. My father found it among the papers that were seized at Stollborg, and left at our house by his predecessor. There were also several Scandinavian poems, which the poor lady had translated into verse and set to music, for she was a very skilful musician; a real artist, indeed. That was one of the things they brought against her to prove that she worshipped pagan gods. My father blamed the former minister very much for his conduct, and he has carefully preserved these precious manuscripts.”
“Now, Karine,” said M. Goefle to the seeress, who had fallen into asort of quiet ecstasy, “have you nothing more to say?”
“Leave me,” answered Karine, who had entered into another phase of her trance; “leave me! I must go to the hogar, to meet him who is to return.”
“Who told you so?” inquired Christian.
“The stork who perches on the roof-top, and who bears to mothers, seated under the chimney-corner, news of their absent sons. That is why I put on the dress that my well-beloved gave me, so that he might at least see something of his mother. For three days I have been waiting for him, I have been singing to him to draw him hither; but at last he has come,—I feel him near me. Bring bluebells, bring violets, and call old Stenson, so that he may rejoice before he dies. Poor Stenson!”
“Why do you saypoor Stenson?” cried Christian, terrified. “Do you see him in your vision?”
“Leave me,” replied Karine; “I have said,—now thevalasinks again into the night.”
Karine closed her eyes and tottered.
“That means that she wishes to sleep now,” said the danneman, receiving her in his arms. “I will seat her here, for she must sleep wherever she may be.”
“No, no,” said Margaret, “we will lead her into the other room, where there is a large sofa. Poor woman, she is burning with fever and exhausted with fatigue. Come!”
“But what was she doing overhead?” said M. Goefle, returning to the staircase and addressing the major, while the two young girls conducted the family of the danneman into the guard-room. “Nothing will get it out of my head that we shall find in this room, walled up by Stenson with so much care, some secret even more important, some proof even more unanswerable than the memories of Karine, and the declaration of Stenson. Come, Christian, we must absolutely—but where are you then?”
“Christian?” cried Margaret, returning hastily from the guard-room; “he is not with us. Where is he?”
“He has already gone up above,” said the major, running up the wooden staircase.
“Damnation!” cried M. Goefle, who ascended with Osmund into the walled-up room; “he has gone! He has slipped through this crack like an adder. Is not that he running along the wall? Christian!—”
“Not a word,” said the major. “He is running along the edge of an abyss! Do not startle him. Now—I can no longer see him; he is lost in the fog. I should like to follow him, but I am larger than he. I could never pass through there.”
“Listen!” rejoined M. Goefle. “He has jumped down!—He is speaking!—Listen!—”
Christian’s voice was distinctly audible in the silence of the night; he was saying to the soldiers:
“It is I! It is I! The major sends me to the chateau.”
“Ah! the foolhardy, the brave boy!” cried M. Goefle. “He takes counsel only with his own heart. He has gone all alone to face his enemies, and deliver Stenson.”
In fact, Christian had flown away, to use the danneman’s expression, like the bird of the night, through the crack of an old wall. The name of Stenson, pronounced by Karine, had pierced his heart.
“That he may rejoice before he dies!” she had said, as her prophetic vision passed away.
And would he indeed be doomed to die under the blows of his executioners? Were those heart-rending words one of the cruel, mocking delusions with which hope inspires us?
Christian was imprisoned, and his efforts paralyzed by the prudence of the major. A quarrel between them on this subject was imminent, and although he knew the danger of attempting to escape through the crumbling wall of the old tower, he preferred running this risk to measuring his strength with one of the excellent friends that Providence had sent him. When he had before seen this accidental opening in the wall, he was too far away, and too much preoccupied, to observe it closely. The fog was slowly dissipating, but the light wasstill vague and dim. However, Karine had passed through it.
“My God!” he said, “let my devotion inspire me with the supernatural faculties which we sometimes see exerted in delirium.”
Knowing well that skill and caution would be of no use now, since he could not see two steps before him, the child of the lake, trusting to the continual miracle of his destiny, ran swiftly down a path by which he had not ventured to ascend during the day.