When Hilda left him, Paul Delmar walked on quickly down the mountain. The pathway was charming and well worthy of more attention than Delmar bestowed upon it. It passed by turns through groups of tall larches, and then through low shrubbery, where there were continual glimpses of the lovely valley, with the shining snow-peaks in the distance. But sensitive as Paul was to the charms of mountain-scenery, just now his mind was too much occupied with his late reception at Castle Reifenstein to allow of his enjoying this walk down the mountain as he would have done at another time.
And yet what most occupied his thoughts was not what one might have supposed would have made the deepest impression upon him,--the strange and unjustifiable dislike shown him by Herr von Heydeck,--no, the farewell words of his charming guide were what he dwelt upon,--"At least I will not be an evil fairy to you. Good-bye, and come soon again."
How lovely Hilda had looked as she said those words! They were not a merely conventional phrase: they were sincere. Of course he must do her bidding; he should indeed have to repeat his visit to the castle on Leo's account. Only on Leo's account?
He suddenly experienced a sensation almost of pain. Leo had, it is true, come to the Tyrol only in compliance with his father's desire, and firmly resolved never to further his uncle's scheme. But could he remain faithful to this resolve after he had seen Hilda, the 'Fair one with the golden locks'? Surely her grace and loveliness must conquer the distaste Leo had for the union desired by his uncle; he never could withstand such charms.
Paul sighed profoundly as he reflected thus. "He is a lucky fellow,--Leo!" he said to himself. "Happiness drops into his grasp without any effort on his part. He needs no help from me. He must soon see that the union he would have avoided will be his greatest blessing. What have I to do at the castle? It is better that I should escape from the enchanted ground before I am too surely entangled in the spells of the enchantress! It would be base in me to place a pebble in Leo's path towards happiness,--I, who came to serve him if I could. Happy Leo!"
He sighed again. He was sorry, near as he was to Castle Reifenstein, not to be able to avail himself of the invitation of the charming fairy of the place, but loyalty to Leo forbade his seeing Hilda again.
Still, would she not have just cause for offence if he took no notice of her kind invitation? Oh, she would soon forget the stranger, who was to her only her cousin's friend. And he would try to forget her, although he doubted his power to succeed in the attempt.
Paul was so deep in reflections of this kind that he hardly thought of where he was going, and was greatly surprised at a turning in the path to see before him the grassy opening where he had left Herwarth. At the same moment he was hailed by Kuno, who had thought him long in returning.
"Here you are at last!" he exclaimed. "I was afraid you had lost your way among the mountains."
His call aroused Paul completely from his revery, and he was instantly himself again. Herwarth must not guess at the gloomy nature of his thoughts, and he replied,--
"You are a model of wisdom, noble knight, and a true prophet, who must of course be without honour in his own country. We did lose our way up there among the rocks, where we should have been at this moment if a golden-haired angel had not descended and borne us aloft to Paradise, where I left our Leo, while I returned to this sordid earth to succour a wounded knight. How are you? Is your foot better?"
"You did get to the castle then? And you have seen Leo's lovely cousin? Tell me about it."
"All in due order; you shall hear everything, and the account shall be as full and detailed as you desire, but you must wait for it until we are back at the inn. First answer me, as a docile patient should, how is your foot?"
"Better; it does not pain me now. I think I shall be able to walk very well after my rest."
Herwarth arose, but his first attempt to walk renewed his pain. "It is worse than I thought," he said. "I must beg you for your arm to help me even on the short way back to the inn."
"Shall I not get some of the people from the village with a litter?" Delmar asked anxiously. "The injury seems graver than we suspected. I am afraid your ankle is broken."
"No, it is not; I am sure of that. I shall certainly not be carried through the village on a litter like a dying warrior because of a slight sprain or bruise. If you will give me your arm I will hobble back to the inn without more delay."
"As you please. His own way is a man's kingdom of heaven; and if you choose to hobble through Tausens, you shall do it."
Propped upon Delmar's arm, Herwarth contrived, although with great pain and frequent pauses for rest, to walk back to the inn. Just before reaching it he paused once more, not however to rest this time, but in astonishment. "I must be dreaming!" he exclaimed. "Look up, Delmar, at the fourth window of our inn. Is it possible? Fräulein Aline von Schlicht, and Fräulein Schommer."
Delmar, whose eyes had been fixed upon the road, in his desire to help his companion, looked up, and laughed aloud when he recognized the two young girls. "Fräulein Eva, sure enough!" he said. "What a charming meeting we shall have! 'Tis a pity that Leo did not take up his quarters down here with us; he would take such a childlike delight in the happy chance that has brought the fair Eva to Tausens. The presence of my friend Bertram is all that is wanting to make the party quite perfect."
"It is not wanting: there the scoundrel goes!" Herwarth cried eagerly; and he was right. Delmar recognized Bertram in the distance walking along the road, his head bent as if lost in thought.
"True! there goes the worthy soul!" Delmar said, laughing. "What say you, Kuno? shall I bestow a few more attentions upon him for the sake of his fair betrothed? The fellow ought to be punished for his insolence in crossing our path again."
"Let him alone, Delmar. Why provoke gossip? He probably does not cross our path intentionally."
"As I have before had occasion to remark, you are a model of wisdom, noble knight. You are right; we will let the rogue alone. Let us leave him to all the joys of his betrothal,--to the lovely Eva. It is an admirable match. Lean more heavily on my arm, Herwarth. It is time you were on the sofa. Come!"
Kuno summoned up all his resolution to endure the violent pain in his foot that he might not seem a weakling in the eyes of the ladies, who were regarding him with great compassion. He could not bear his weight upon it, however, and even with Delmar's assistance he had great difficulty in gaining the house, where he took what consolation he could from Aline's pitying smile as she returned his salutation.
More carried than led by Delmar, he reached the apartment Paul had engaged for their sitting-room, and sank exhausted upon the sofa. Delmar did all that he could to make him comfortable, relieving the foot of its boot and swathing the ankle in wet bandages, after which he declared his intention of going in search of medical aid. "If the postmaster's tale be true," said he, "the physician here, Dr. Putzer, although a thorough-paced vagabond, is a man of skill and experience. I am going to find him."
"What trouble you take for me, Paul! How shall I thank you?"
But Paul had already left the room. In the hall he met the postmaster, who showed him the way to the doctor's house. At the inner door he encountered Bertram just returning from his walk, and saluted him after his usual mocking fashion.
"Rejoiced to see you, Herr von Bertram. The tender regard which has prompted you to follow me thus touches me and deserves recognition. I trust your charming betrothed is well. What refreshment I shall have in the contemplation of your new-born bliss! It will be a lesson in the noble art of love."
Bertram replied to this sneer by a furious glance, but he suppressed his rage and only asked humbly, "May I ask for a few moments of conversation in private with you, Herr Delmar?"
"What can we possibly have to discuss in private, sir?"
"I beg you to listen to me for a few minutes."
"Your modesty shall receive its reward. You may accompany me in a short walk I am obliged to take through the village, and on the way you can tell me what you have to say. I have no more time for you."
With these words Paul left the inn, leaving Bertram to follow him, and rightly suspecting what the ex-lieutenant (he had been forced to leave his regiment) had to say.
Bertram walked at his side for some time without speaking. He had been debating with himself for the last hour as to how he should approach his detested enemy, how induce him to be silent. He had prepared himself for this interview with the greatest care, and yet, now that he found himself confronted with Delmar's mocking smile, he forgot all the fine phrases he had made ready, and did not know how to begin.
"Well?" Delmar asked, when the two men had walked for some distance without one word from Bertram. "You are silent? If you have anything to say to me, I advise you to do so quickly, or you may lose the opportunity."
"I will not detain you long, Herr Delmar," Bertram humbly replied. "Have patience for a few minutes. As unhappy chance will have it we meet thus unexpectedly in this retired spot."
"Chance! and you call it unhappy? Then it was not a desire for my amiable society which attracted you hither? Herr von Bertram, it wounds me to be thus undeceived."
"You sneer, Herr Delmar, and I cannot answer you, for I am powerless against you. Is it honourable thus to triumph over the defenceless?"
"No; you are right, and I take shame to myself that I have deserved the reproof. Tell me briefly and without circumlocution what you desire of me, and you shall be safe from my contempt for the next few minutes, but take care not to cross my path again; my promise holds good only for this interview. What do you want? Answer me at once and to the point."
"I wish to implore you not to let my betrothed know of the means by which you forced me to make the declaration to Herr Leo von Heydeck which drove me from the army. Have compassion upon me, Herr Delmar!"
"Do you deserve compassion?"
"If I sinned my punishment has been great. I never injured you, and yet you have been the one to give the deathblow to my honour. Do you wish to rob me of my last hope in life? You have terribly avenged the insult to your friend. I cannot resent your doing so, but I implore you not to drive me to despair. Do not take from me the last thing left to me in life,--the love of my betrothed!"
"Be honest, Herr von Bertram. If you really wish me to spare you, answer me frankly. Is it really the love of the fair Eva which you prize so highly? Is it not her millions which are so dear to you?"
"I give you my word of honour, Herr Delmar----"
"Let your honour alone if you wish me to believe you. I want a frank answer."
"I assure you that I love my betrothed from the depths of my soul. It is this love that drove me to the course that ruined me. I hoped by a duel with Herr von Heydeck to win Fräulein Schommer's gratitude and affection."
"You knew that Leo was principled against duelling."
"I was convinced that he would prove false to his principles. You may judge of the sincerity of my love for Eva by my submission to her wishes. Without your intervention I should have offered an apology to Herr von Heydeck, the same in substance with the one you insisted upon, although couched in language less humiliating to me. Fräulein Schommer required this of me when she consented to our betrothal."
"Really? That then was no empty subterfuge of yours. Fräulein Schommer required that you should make an apology?"
"She did. Only upon this condition would she yield an assent to my suit."
"Strange! I had not credited the young lady with such delicacy of feeling. This information so exalts her in my opinion that I doubt whether I have a right to conceal from her what manner of man he is to whom she has entrusted her future happiness."
"You will not use my frankness against me? You will not ruin me because, in accordance with your wish, I have told you the entire truth? You could not take so mean an advantage of me, Herr Delmar? On that terrible day you gave me hopes that you would spare me if I complied with your demand. I did comply, to the annihilation of my future career. Will you take the last thing that I possess from me, when you promised to spare me?"
"I expressly told you that I would promise you nothing."
"But you justified me in hoping."
"That I dispute; nevertheless, I will consider the matter. I have made you no promises, and I will make you none. For the present I see no reason for pointing out to Fräulein Eva the worthlessness or the excellence of the man upon whom she has bestowed her fair hand; if time should develop any reason for my doing so, I shall act as I see fit. And now, no more of this. We have reached the house I came to seek, and I have no desire to prolong this interview. One more question. Are you going to stay any length of time at Tausens?"
"I do not know; Fräulein Schommer seems to think of doing so."
"Does Fräulein Schommer know that Herr von Heydeck is staying here?"
"Yes; and for that very reason she has determined to remain. She does not wish to appear to avoid Herr von Heydeck."
"She shows pluck, upon my word! Then we can hardly avoid seeing and speaking with each other occasionally; but I would advise you, Herr von Bertram, to spare me such annoyance as far as you can. The seldomer we meet the better it will be for you." And not waiting for a reply, Delmar, having reached Dr. Putzer's house, left Bertram without another word. Then, opening a gate in the low iron railing, he entered a front garden, at the end of which was an arbour, where sat a lady and gentleman.
Dr. Putzer's house, the style of which was more pretentious than that of most of the houses in the village, lay at quite a distance from the road, from which it was separated by a large, carefully-cultivated garden, that, with its tasteful flower-beds and various rare plants certainly not to be found in any other of the village gardens, was worthy of more attention than Delmar now bestowed upon it. Without a glance at the fragrant and beautiful shrubs on either side of his path, he walked directly along the white-pebbled way leading to the arbour, where, as he suspected, the doctor was.
His approach was unnoticed. The lady sitting in the arbour was busy with some embroidery,--so busy that she did not look up; the gentleman was leaning back in one arm-chair with his feet resting upon another, comfortably resigning himself to the enjoyment of a cigar. He sat, or rather he reclined, with his back towards the approach from the garden.
Delmar paused at the entrance of the arbour; although he had taken no pains to tread softly, neither the lady nor the gentleman had heard his step. If he had ever cared to imagine what this couple were like, the reality would have accorded well with the fancied presentment.
The doctor's wife was still an imposing woman; indeed, her well-preserved features would have been beautiful if they had not been disfigured by her girlish cap with pink ribbons, and quantities of pearl-powder and rouge. The old woman's efforts to look young destroyed the charm that her regular features might else have possessed.
Her youthful dress, fluttering all over with ribbons and fringes and lace, bore testimony to a craving for admiration, all the more ridiculous because, in the retired village where she lived, there was not probably a man, woman, or child who was not perfectly aware that she had long passed fifty.
In striking contrast to the extreme elegance of his wife's appearance Dr. Putzer's dress displayed no care whatever. The white summer coat that covered his broad shoulders was rumpled and dirty; two buttons were gone from the front, and it hung loosely about his huge figure. His still abundant coarse sandy hair was in wild disorder, and the spectator was led to suspect that the doctor did not often come in contact with soap and water.
Dr. Putzer was not handsome, although one could see that he might once have been a personable man. His fat, flabby face had the purple hue of an habitual drinker; his light-gray eyes were dull and watery, and his figure, which must formerly have been good, was marred by corpulence.
Paul took in this worthy couple at a glance; he did not need to scan them long to come to a conclusion with regard to them. Their distinguishing characteristics were patent to view,--the ridiculous vanity of the woman and the man's indolence and love of eating and drinking.
For one moment Paul hesitated. Could he confide his friend to this drunkard's surgical skill? On the table beside the man was a half-empty bottle of wine; he had evidently been partaking freely. But Delmar called to mind that the postmaster, in his story, had laid great emphasis upon the fact that the doctor, in spite of his dissipation and general worthlessness, was a skilful physician,--the best in all the country round,--and this reflection confirmed his resolve. "Have I the pleasure of seeing Herr Doctor Putzer?" he asked courteously, lifting his hat.
The doctor's wife looked up at this unexpected address, and at sight of Paul uttered a slight scream of surprise; the embroidery dropped from her hand, and she stared at the stranger with wide-open eyes. If her cheeks had not been plastered with white and red paint, Paul, who noticed her startled look, would have seen her become ghastly pale.
The doctor, too, seemed strangely startled by Paul's appearance. Upon first hearing himself addressed he turned his head heavily and clumsily, but with one glance at his visitor he started to his feet with a celerity that was almost comical in so corpulent a personage. He ran his hands through his dishevelled bushy hair, and his little gray eyes were riveted upon Paul's face. "Holy Apostles!" he cried, in terror. "Who are you, sir? What do you want of me?"
Here was another strange reception, precisely similar to that accorded to Delmar by old Herr von Heydeck. Was Tausens then so secluded from the world that the appearance of an ordinary stranger brought with it terror and dismay? Just as the doctor and his wife were now doing had Herr von Heydeck stared Paul in the face.
Paul could conceive no reason for the extraordinary manner in which he was received in Tausens: he would have liked to make some inquiries with regard to it; but all that he wanted at present was to procure medical aid for Kuno as quickly as possible, and he therefore answered, "My name, which can possess but little interest for you, is Delmar. I come to request your services for a friend who has injured his foot among the mountains; will you have the kindness to return with me to the inn, where he is in great need of your skill?"
"Delmar?" the doctor muttered, seeming to heed nothing but the name in the young man's reply. "Your name is Delmar, then,--not Menotti?"
Delmar gazed at him in surprise; what made the man think of this name of Menotti? Paul remembered to have heard it, but he could not recall at the moment when or where; he only knew that he had heard the name lately of a Count Menotti, if he were not mistaken.
"Why do you mention the name of Menotti?" he asked, curiously.
"Then it is not your name?" the doctor repeated, without answering.
"No; as I told you, my name is Delmar,--Paul Delmar."
"Strange! The resemblance is most striking. But what am I thinking of? Young Count Menotti cannot be more than twenty years of age, and the younger brother is a cripple. But the resemblance! Rosy, what do you say to it?"
The doctor's wife said nothing, she only nodded her head, never turning her eyes away from Delmar. She scanned his features with eager scrutiny, as if to stamp them upon her memory.
For Paul the whole scene was extremely annoying, he especially disliked being stared at by this odious woman; he did not like charades, and to find himself a principal actor in one was very disagreeable. He asked rather sharply, "Who is this Count Menotti whom I so strangely resemble?"
"A very distinguished nobleman," the doctor replied, continuing to regard Delmar with curiosity, although he had regained his indolent calm of manner, out of which it needed some special occurrence to startle him. "You need not be ashamed of the resemblance, Herr Delmar, Count Menotti was a very handsome man."
"Was a handsome man? Is he no longer living, then?"
"He died a few years ago. 'Tis strange that you have never heard of him. Your resemblance to him is so great that I could have sworn you were akin to him. No son could look more like a father. And you know nothing of him,--you never heard of him?"
"I think I have heard the name, although I cannot now remember when or where. But let us drop this resemblance at present, Herr Doctor; at some future time I hope you will tell me more of Count Menotti. I shall be some weeks here in Tausens, and shall have abundant opportunity of conversing with you about this Count whom I so greatly resemble. At present let me beg you to come to the inn with me as quickly as possible to the assistance of my friend."
"Excuse me; in my astonishment at sight of you I forgot. Injured his foot, you say? Pray tell me as briefly as possible how it occurred."
Paul told, and the doctor listened attentively, now and then interrupting him with an intelligent question. He then declared himself ready to accompany Paul immediately to the inn, only asking him to wait until he should fetch some bandages from the house, whither he repaired with more briskness than could have been expected of his ungainly form.
Paul was left alone with the doctor's wife. He tried to converse with the lady, but in vain; he received such curt replies to his few general remarks as made it plain that she did not mean to be drawn into conversation with the stranger, although she continued to regard him with the same wearisome curiosity. Therefore Delmar was more than content when the doctor's clumsy tread was heard approaching from the house. He had hurriedly made a kind of toilette, and the dirty linen coat was replaced by one of cloth, rather more respectable in appearance.
"Here I am, at your service, Herr Delmar," he said. "I am ready to accompany you, but I must beg you to walk slowly as my size forbids speed."
Delmar took leave of the lady with a courteous inclination, which she did not return, and then walked beside the doctor down the pebbled path to the road. At the gate he turned and saw that Frau Putzer had arisen from her seat and was standing at the entrance of the arbour, still watching him.
Paul was annoyed by so disagreeable a degree of attention, and walked on in silence, while the doctor also seemed to feel no inclination for conversation; and thus they reached the inn with the exchange of but very few words upon the way.
They found Kuno sitting at the open window, awaiting them impatiently. He arose to greet the doctor, but violent pain in his foot made him wince as he did so. The doctor saw this, and immediately took charge most intelligently of the case. "The pain is severe," he said. "Let us see what is the matter. The bone is not broken; that I could see as you arose. Lean upon me as heavily as you please, my shoulders are broad, and I will lead you to the sofa, where we will make a thorough examination."
He spoke with calm and kindly decision. As a physician he perfectly understood how to inspire confidence in his skill and experience. Kuno, although he had been prejudiced against the man by what he had heard of him from the postmaster, could not but yield to the influence exerted by him upon all his patients. He did just as he was bidden, and a thorough examination of the foot was made.
"Well, doctor, what is it? Is there any serious injury?" Delmar asked anxiously, when the doctor had at last finished his investigations.
"No, I can reassure you; it is only a sprain. If Herr von Herwarth is a docile patient all will be right in a couple of weeks; if not, I cannot say when the foot will be well again. For two weeks you must not use the foot at all. You ought to lie in bed. But this would I suppose be asking too much, and I will allow you to recline on the sofa, begging you upon no account to touch the injured foot to the floor. If you will follow my directions, I will promise that you shall walk again in two weeks, and that after a month you will hardly remember the injury."
"Am I not to walk for two weeks?" Kuno asked.
"Not for two weeks. I will not assume any responsibility in the matter unless my orders are strictly obeyed."
"They shall be obeyed. I will answer for it," Delmar interposed. To his own surprise, he found himself agreeably impressed by the doctor's manner. "A patient is not an individual, but a case; he should have no will of his own. I will take care of him. I shall see life from a new point of view. I will enact my part of nurse well. It will be a fresh sensation in this everlasting monotony. Do not be anxious about this amiable young fellow, doctor. He shall obey orders, put on bandages, hobble or sit still, just as you command."
"Excellent! Then I will answer for the result," the doctor said. "I see that my patient is in good hands. I may leave him. To-morrow afternoon I will come again and bandage the ankle. Until then, farewell!"
Dr. Putzer yawned and stretched his huge limbs as he left Herwarth's room and the door was closed behind him. In a sick-room and in intercourse with strangers he was a different man from the Dr. Putzer of private life. Towards a patient and with those whose rank in life was superior to his own and with whom he had not yet become familiar, he displayed a gentle courtesy which was entirely foreign to his usual manner, and which was quite attractive. Whenever he pleased he could thus assume the air and bearing of a man of refinement and culture; but as soon as he was left to himself, or to his daily associates, he threw off all such self-restraint and took no pains to conceal his innate coarseness of nature.
He descended the stairs, which creaked beneath his heavy tread, and opening the door of the parlour, called, in thundering tones, "Nannerl! Where the deuce is the lazy hussy! A half-measure of red!" he added, as the maid came hurrying from the kitchen. "And send the landlord here. I have something to say to him."
As he finished he pinched the girl's red cheek with an ugly leer and laughed coarsely as she recoiled from his familiarity. Then turning into the parlour he settled himself comfortably in his usual position,--leaning back in one of the large strong chairs, with his feet on another of them.
Nannerl soon appeared with the wine, which she placed upon the table, carefully avoiding, as she did so, any contact with the man whose coarse familiarity she dreaded.
While she was thus setting out the wine Hansel entered the room, and observing her annoyance, said angrily, "Let Nannerl alone, Herr Doctor; your old head ought to teach you better than to tease a poor girl."
The doctor was not at all offended by the rough rebuke, but with a laugh, offered a glass of wine to the postmaster. "That's right. Hansel," he said. "Keep strict watch over your maid's virtue. Take a sip to cool your anger, and then we'll have a gossip. Fine doings here. Hansel! Two four-horse carriages have not been seen together for many a year in Tausens; and a couple of strangers into the bargain. I have just left one of them, who has sprained his ankle."
"I know it. Herr Delmar asked me where you lived."
"Exactly; Herr Delmar came for me. Do you know Herr Delmar? where he comes from? who he is?"
"No, I don't, but I know his face, although I can't remember where I have seen it."
"Do you remember Count Menotti, Hansel?"
Scarcely had the doctor uttered this name when Hansel struck the table with his fist and exclaimed, "That's the man! The Count Menotti! Yes, yes; just so he looked with his black eyes and yellow face! Now I see! He may call himself Delmar if he will; he's a Count Menotti for all that. That's why he wanted me to tell him all those old stories,--about Herr von Heydeck, and his first wife, and Count Menotti, and the child that died of smallpox."
The doctor suddenly started from his reclining posture and frowned furiously at the postmaster. "And you told him all that, you cursed old blab!" he exclaimed angrily.
"It's no secret. Herr Delmar may as well know what everybody else knows," Hansel replied stoutly.
The doctor's wrath was not at all appeased, but he made an effort to control any further expression of it, and rejoined, "True, Hansel, it is no secret, but where's the use of raking up such old forgotten tales? Well, it can't be helped,--only I should really like to know what you did tell him."
The postmaster was not perfectly comfortable at this request. When he called to mind his long conversation with the strangers, and the extraordinary eagerness that Herr Delmar had shown in inducing him to tell all that he knew of the life at the castle and of Herr von Heydeck, he could not help thinking that the stranger who was so very like Count Menotti had cross-examined him very skilfully, and the doctor's request strengthened him in this conviction.
Why had the doctor been so vexed to learn that Hansel had told of Herr von Heydeck's dead child? Try as he would to seem composed the Herr Doctor could not conceal his agitation. He was evidently afraid that the postmaster had told too much, and honest Hansel began to share this fear himself.
The poor fellow found himself in a very disagreeable situation; if he refused to tell what he had told the strangers, the doctor would suspect matters of being worse than they really were, and yet if he informed him of all that he had said, matters were bad enough, for he had told enough to make the doctor his bitter enemy. It was very hard to give the right answer, but something must be done, and Hansel did his best, extricating himself from his dilemma with greater cunning than would have been thought possible for him. He told the doctor faithfully of all he had said to Herr Delmar about Herr von Heydeck, the life at the castle, about the first mistress, and her relations with Count Menotti. He reported also that he had spoken of the report that Herr von Heydeck was by no means sorry for his child's death, but he never hinted that he had once made mention in the narrative of the doctor or his wife.
Hansel had the reputation in Tausens of being so honest and simple-minded a fellow that it never occurred to the doctor to doubt his frankness, and his mind was set at rest with regard to the extent of Hansel's revelations; not so, however, as to the stranger's motive in questioning the postmaster. It could not, the doctor was convinced, have been ordinary curiosity.
What could have interested the strangers in Herr von Heydeck? Delmar's striking resemblance to Count Menotti could be no mere chance freak of nature. Such resemblances between strangers in blood do occur, it is true, but they are very exceptional, and Delmar's curiosity regarding matters connected with Castle Reifenstein showed plainly that this was not one of the exceptions.
But if Delmar were related to Count Menotti, and had not come by chance to Tausens, what could he want there?
A sudden suspicion flashed upon the doctor's mind, but he rejected it immediately,--it was so wild and improbable; still, Delmar's presence made him excessively uncomfortable. To conceal this discomfort from the postmaster, he talked and drank incessantly. The measure of wine was emptied and refilled several times, while the doctor's bloated face grew redder and redder, his eyes more watery, and his speech thicker. He tried to learn more of the strangers from Hansel, but in vain; the postmaster knew nothing of them except what he had heard from their guides from the Zillerthal, and this he freely imparted without in the least satisfying the other's curiosity. In his good humour the innkeeper was recounting every particular for the fourth time, although he could not conceive what interest it could have for the doctor, when he was interrupted by a message from the doctor's wife.
A servant reported that her mistress was very much annoyed that the doctor was staying so long from home, and that she begged he would return thither immediately, since a message from the castle was awaiting him.
The doctor started up and, pouring down a last glassful of wine, set out for his home, but his progress thitherward was not of the swiftest, for his gait was unsteady and his head was confused,--he could not collect his senses when he tried to divine whether this message from the castle had any connection with Herr Delmar's arrival at Tausens.
The doctor's wife awaited her husband in the arbour, where she had been ever since his departure. She was standing at the entrance looking out for him; but as she saw him approach with a heavy, unsteady gait, she received him with anything but a smile of welcome, and the words, spoken in a tone of profound contempt, "The brute is drunk again!"
The doctor was perhaps not entirely unaccustomed to such tender addresses, at all events he did not resent her words, but replied quite humbly, "No, Rosy dear, sober,--perfectly sober,--s'help me God," the thickness of his utterance belying his words.
His wife took no notice of his reply, but, with the expression of contempt upon her face intensified, she ordered him harshly, "Go to the brook this instant, and when you are fit to hear it I have a message for you."
The doctor ventured no word of remonstrance; with wavering steps he went towards the spot where, to the left of the arbour, a mountain-brook was pouring through a hollow tree into a stone basin in the grass. He held his hot hand under the icy stream and hesitated for a moment, but at the sound of a sharp 'make haste' from the arbour he delayed no longer, but stooped and let the water pour over his head. His breath came in quick, loud pants, his face grew dark purple in hue, and his limbs trembled,--it was a hard ordeal, but he bore the shock bravely, and let the icy water stream over his brow and temples for several minutes. Then he stood erect, and shaking his dishevelled shock of hair like a dog emerging from the water, dried his face with his cotton pocket-handkerchief, and went back to his affectionate wife in the arbour. The cold bath had produced its effect,--his gait was steadier and his head clearer.
"Are you sober enough now to understand what is said to you?"
"Sober enough; but I shall have a stroke one of these days."
"Drink less then, and you will not have to resort to such violent measures to make yourself sober. You are to go to the castle. Herr von Heydeck has sent for you."
"I am not his slave; let him wait."
"You'd better go to the brook again,--you can't be sober yet."
"I am sober, I tell you; but I can't see why I should always dance to his piping. Let him come to me if he wants to talk with me."
"You'll never be anything but a blockhead in spite of all your book-learning. Don't you see that we must keep straight with the old man? We are all in the same danger, and must stand together."
"What danger?"
"What danger, stupid? Have you no grain of understanding? Don't you know who this man is who calls himself Delmar, and what he wants here in Tausens? You recognized him at once as the son of Count Menotti!"
"Yes; but I can't for the life of me see----"
"Of course not,--but I can tell you! He is the son of Count Menotti and the noble Frau von Heydeck, the heir of Castle Reifenstein, and he has come for his inheritance!"
His wife's words did not surprise the doctor; the same idea had occurred to him, but he had rejected it as impossible. Now the uttered words gave it distinct form in his mind, and he began to yield it credence. "I thought of that," he said, reflectively; "but it is impossible. The boy died long since."
"The old fellow invented that tale for us. Rely upon it he is alive, and has come to claim his own. It is for this the old man wishes to see you, and you must go to him, but take care what you say. You must make him confess that he lied to us. You must threaten him,--you can do anything with such a coward. But you must not break with him, for we are all alike in danger. You wrote the certificate of death,--the man will revenge himself upon you as well as upon the old scoundrel at the castle. Try to get as much money as you can out of the old fellow. If the worst comes to the worst we must leave Tausens,--I have no mind to end my days in a jail."
"It wouldn't be as bad as that."
"It would be bad enough. That man will have no pity for us. I saw that in his bold black eyes. And you in your stupidity made matters as desperate as you could by letting him see that you recognized him at once."
"I was so startled----"
"That's no excuse. But that's over, and we can't help it; we must do as well as we can. If you are really sober, go immediately to the castle. Speak as little as possible, and get all that you can out of the old man's cowardice. I wish I were going in your stead, for it's likely you'll spoil all. Now go!"
The doctor's wife thus dismissed her liege lord, who did as he was bidden, although he had but little inclination at present for an interview with Herr von Heydeck. The fumes of the wine he had drunk were still clouding his intellect; he could not collect his thoughts as he wished, and the way to the castle was long and steep.
The warm July day had hardly grown cooler at its close. The sun, it is true, had already set behind the mountains, but the air of the valley was heavy and sultry, and made every step a weariness to Dr. Putzer's massive frame.
He was frequently obliged to rest while on the way, and heat and fatigue combined to increase his irritation against the lord of the castle. When at last he gained the bridge leading across the chasm, old Melcher met him, and in the broken babble which few could understand, but which was perfectly intelligible to the doctor's accustomed ears, gave him to understand that his master had been impatiently awaiting him for more than an hour.
A savage oath was the doctor's only reply, but he hastened his steps, and passed directly across the court-yard to Melcher's quarters. He well knew the most direct way to Herr von Heydeck's study; he had been familiar enough with it in years long gone by. By the winding staircase from Melcher's room he mounted to the master's study, which he entered without knocking.
"Here you are at last!" the lord of the castle exclaimed. He had been pacing the room to and fro for a long while in extreme impatience. "Could you not come sooner? I sent for you more than two hours ago!"
The imperious tone in which Herr von Heydeck spoke irritated the doctor still more deeply. "Am I your slave?" he asked angrily. "I ought not to have come at all in obedience to a command which should have been a request. A pretty reception you give me! I've more than half a mind to turn round and go home again."
These words, spoken in a coarse, loud voice, had a strange effect upon Herr von Heydeck. He recoiled timidly from the angry man; his wrinkled features twitched nervously, and it was not until he had moved, so as to place the heavy round table, covered with books, between himself and his visitor, that he said in a changed and gentle tone, "You need not be offended, doctor. I did not mean to be cross. You must not take it amiss that I am a little impatient. I have waited more than an hour, and have very important matters to discuss with you. Pray be seated."
The doctor threw himself into an arm-chair, that creaked in every joint with his weight. "I know what you want," he said sullenly; "but get me some wine first. My tongue fairly rattles in my mouth."
Herr von Heydeck rang a bell, and old Melcher, who answered the summons, was sent for 'a measure of red' for the doctor. When it was placed upon the table, Putzer poured out a glassful, emptied it at a draught, and then, after settling himself comfortably in his chair, said, "Now I am ready to listen. What do you want of me?"
Herr von Heydeck did not reply. He had waited for the doctor with the greatest impatience, but now that he had come he could not find words in which to tell him of what was weighing upon his mind. Startled and terrified by Delmar's appearance at Castle Reifenstein, Leo's narrative had banished his fears but for a short time. As soon as he was alone in his room they returned to torture him. While he gazed into his nephew's frank, honest eyes, he gave him full credence, but when left to himself to review the dark past, he was haunted by suspicion lest other reasons besides friendship for Leo had brought Delmar hither. He felt himself suddenly menaced by a peril which he had indeed dreaded many years before, but which had long since ceased to trouble him.
What should he do to avert disaster? He was helpless; a terrible future was present to his excited imagination. He saw himself driven forth a dishonoured beggar from the castle which he had for so long considered his own; saw the gates of a prison open to receive him, condemned to a disgraceful punishment for a deed which he hoped and believed had been buried in oblivion.
And there was no one to aid him in this extremity! Suddenly he thought of Putzer, the accomplice in his schemes,--the man who must suffer with himself if their secret was discovered,--and he despatched a messenger to Tausens to require his immediate presence at the castle. The doctor alone could advise and assist him. But now, when the man sat opposite to him, and he looked into the bloated face, the leering, watery eyes, he lost all hope of any support or aid from such a source, and hesitated to ask him for advice, since in doing so he must confess that for years he had deceived him.
The doctor waited for a while in vain expectation that Herr von Heydeck would begin what he had to say. He divined what was passing in the old man's mind, and inwardly exulted in the terror and embarrassment plainly to be seen in his face. At last however he grew weary of waiting, and bringing his fist down heavily upon the table, exclaimed with brutal violence, "Well! are you going to speak or not? Did you send for me to come here to be stared at? Tell me what you want of me."
The doctor knew perfectly well that it was only by brutal violence of manner that anything could be done with Herr von Heydeck. Smooth words had no effect upon him; but every violent gesture, every menacing word, inspired him with fear, and fear made him docile. Cowardice was Herr von Heydeck's distinguishing characteristic, and influenced all his actions.
Thus the doctor's angry words did not now fail of their effect Herr von Heydeck moved uneasily. "Why should you be so violent, doctor?" he asked timidly. "I did not mean to offend you. I was only thinking how best to put into words the important intelligence I have to communicate."
"Have you not had time enough for that? If you are puzzling your brains with the invention of fresh lies with which to impose upon me, you may spare yourself the trouble. Do you suppose I don't know that you have sent for me because you are afraid of this Herr Delmar?"
"How?--You know?" Herr von Heydeck asked, his anxiety increasing with every word uttered by Putzer.
"I know more than you care to tell me. You are afraid of this fellow; and well you may be, for he knows what he wants. Have you seen him?"
"Yes."
"Then there's no need to warn you. One look into his black eyes will tell you that you've no mercy to look for there. I don't know whether I can help you. You deceived me and lied to me; you told me your son had died in Switzerland!"
"My son!" Herr von Heydeck exclaimed indignantly. "You know perfectly well----"
"Well then, your wife's son. What is that to me? You needn't look so furious,--I'm not afraid of you. Your cunning has overreached itself, that's all. If you had been honest and open with me you would have had nothing to fear now. I could have settled the boy so that you would never have heard from him again."
"Perhaps that would have been best," Herr von Heydeck said humbly; "but I could not make up my mind to it then, nor could I now. I hated the boy whose undeniable resemblance to his father was a constant disgrace to my name. My dearest wish was for his death, but by natural means, not by poisonous drugs. If I had left him to you, as you advised, I should never have had another peaceful moment. Murder!--the very sound of the word freezes the blood in my veins! I should have been frenzied by the thought that I had permitted the deed, even although I had not caused it to be done."
"Who talks of murder? I forbid all such expressions as far as I am concerned," the doctor rejoined angrily. "Do you imagine that to make you a rich man I would have stained my soul with blood and put my neck into a noose?"
"But you offered the first time I spoke to you of the boy----"
"I offered nothing except to relieve you from all anxiety. And that I would have done if, after I had made out the certificate of the child's death, you would have handed him over to me instead of keeping him here in the basement of the tower, in care of Melcher, for a year, and then carrying him off yourself. What is done should be done thoroughly. But you are a coward, too timid to act decidedly. You were afraid of me, and so you cheated me with the story that the boy died a year after you had put him to board in Switzerland. Now, when he suddenly appears here to claim his rights, you are trembling again in terror."
"He has really come then to claim his rights? Oh, what do you know about him, doctor?" cried Herr von Heydeck, wringing his hands.
The doctor gazed with a scornful smile at the despair of the old man, whom fear seemed to deprive of the capacity for thought. Putzer felt vastly superior,--his blood was quickened by the wine, his pulses throbbed feverishly, but his brain had regained more than its wonted clearness. He had suddenly and advisedly uttered as fact what was only suspicion, and thus won from Herr von Heydeck an indirect confession; but this was not enough,--he must know the whole truth, and he was sure that he could extort it by increasing to the uttermost the coward's terror.
"Time enough by and by to tell what I know about Herr Delmar, as he calls himself," Putzer continued. "You will find to your cost that I know more than you ever meant I should. Perhaps I can devise a means of getting you out of the scrape, although your affairs do look black enough; but not one step will I take in the matter, rely upon it, unless you treat me with entire frankness. You must tell me exactly what you did with the boy, where you put him to board, and everything else that you know of him."
"But if you know all about it----"
"That is no affair of yours. I want to hear it from you, and I advise you not to try to deceive me. I have already meditated whether to offer my services to Herr Delmar or to stick to you. If you lie to me you will force me for my own sake to go over to the enemy's camp, and you know best what that means!"
"For the love of heaven, doctor, you would not betray me?"
"Not unless you force me to it by lies or concealment. Come, begin! Tell me all that you know of this Herr Delmar, from the moment when I saw the boy for the last time until the present day."
Herr von Heydeck sprang up from his seat and paced the room to and fro in the wildest distress. He tried to reflect, to come to some determination, but his mind was confused; the doctor's threat had so terrified him that he could think of nothing but the wretched consequences of such a betrayal, and he lost sight of the fact that his guilty accomplice had an equal interest with himself in preserving his secret.
The doctor allowed him no time for reflection. "Will you do as I say, or not?" he asked roughly. And his threatening manner was, as ever, effectual.
Incapable of further resistance, the old man again sank into his arm-chair, and, in the fear of offending the doctor by suppressing some fact that he might have learned from other sources, gave him the full and circumstantial account that he demanded.
After Herr von Heydeck had, with the help of the doctor and of the woman who afterwards became Frau Putzer, established the fact of the death of the child of his late wife by means of the mock funeral and the false certificate of death, he kept the boy, whom he loathed doubly as the child of Count Menotti and as the obstacle to his own fortune, in the basement of the old tower, tended by Melcher and his half-idiot sister. Herr von Heydeck never saw it, but, as he sat in his study at night, he could frequently hear its cries, and they not only awakened in him the stings of conscience, but tortured him with the dread lest, if heard by other ears, they should lead to detection and punishment. The false certificate of death had given him all the wealth that should have been the child's.
Again and again the doctor's offer to rid him forever of the detested infant recurred to him, but he recoiled from a crime that seemed to him far more odious than the child's concealment.
Thus a year passed amid pangs unspeakable for the lord of the castle. He had cherished a secret hope that the child would not live long in the gloomy tower, but this hope was blighted by Melcher's account of the boy's thriving condition. He was almost in despair. He had not sufficient courage for a fresh crime; and yet it would be impossible to keep a growing child in the basement of the tower much longer without discovery. His cries had already been heard by the villagers in the silence of night, but superstition had lent its aid to protect the guilty.
"The devil is at his pranks again in the castle," the peasants in Tausens would say, and they avoided the haunted tower as far as was possible,--crossing themselves with a muttered prayer if they were ever near enough to it to hear any inexplicable sounds.
Thus far their superstition had shielded Herr von Heydeck; but who could say when some man, more courageous than his fellows, might not attempt to explore the source whence the ghostly cries proceeded? And then? Why, then discovery, disgrace, and misery were the inevitable consequences.
The wretched man had almost made up his mind to have recourse once more to the doctor's aid, when chance pointed a way of release for him. He saw an advertisement in a paper offering a child for adoption. An unnatural mother, pleading extreme poverty, appealed to the compassion of any generous individual who would adopt her child, and consented, if any such were found, to relinquish all her maternal rights.
As Heydeck read he thought of the hidden child. If this woman had been successful in only appealing to human compassion, could he not be far more sure of success in invoking the aid of man's cupidity? And he devised the scheme which he proceeded to carry into execution.
He put an advertisement in a Berlin newspaper offering a sum of ten thousand thalers to any one who would adopt an orphan boy and so educate him as his own that the child should never learn that he was not the genuine offspring of his adopted parent.
He used every caution with regard to this advertisement. He went to Berlin, and there, under an assumed name, he himself received all the answers to his offer,--destroying them after he had read them.
Among these one seemed especially desirable. A merchant by the name of Delmar, residing in a distant provincial town, declared himself ready to take the boy. He wrote that he had had the misfortune a short time before to lose his wife and only child, Paul. The care of another child would soothe his grief, and by a judicious outlay of the promised capital he trusted he might insure the boy's future welfare.
That this letter seemed less than the rest the result of greed of gain would hardly alone have decided Heydeck to accept it as the answer to his offer, but he was also moved thereto by the consideration that it came from a small provincial town so distant from the Tyrol that it could never have had the slightest cognizance of Castle Reifenstein.
Herr von Heydeck went to H----, and made inquiries at the inn there concerning the man who had written to him. The intelligence that he received was satisfactory. Delmar was a small tradesman, living very quietly, but with an excellent reputation. He was a solid, sensible man, but had been very unfortunate. He had not only lost his wife and only child, but the bankruptcy of a large Berlin house had so imperilled his business that his townsfolk were afraid he would be obliged to dispose of his stock in trade to satisfy his creditors.
After learning these particulars, Herr von Heydeck called upon Delmar. He introduced himself as a Herr Steineck, commissioned by a lady of rank to provide for her illegitimate child. If Herr Delmar would bind himself never to inquire after the child's parents, but to bring him up as his own son, giving him his own name,--if further, in order that the boy might never learn from strangers that he was an adopted child, he would consent to leave H---- and establish himself in another place, whither he could take the child as his son Paul, the boy should be immediately handed over to him and also the ten thousand thalers.
Delmar gladly acceded to all these conditions. He promised to leave his present place of abode, which was full of sad memories for him, to sell his business and go to some other German town, where he hoped to invest the ten thousand thalers with success, and where he might make use of his dead child's baptismal certificate to legitimate his adopted son, so that no one could have the slightest cause for suspicion that he was not really and truly his son.
Delmar and Steineck were thus soon agreed; the latter paid down a thousand thalers for a retainer as it were, and it was settled that Delmar should immediately proceed to close up his affairs in H----, and should inform Steineck when he was ready to move elsewhere by an advertisement in a certain Berlin newspaper. It was made a principal condition of their agreement that Delmar should never make the slightest attempt to discover Steineck's place of residence.
A month later Herr von Heydeck read in the Berlin paper that Delmar was ready to receive the child. To effect the infant's removal was the hardest part of Heydeck's task. He would admit no one to his confidence in the matter; neither Dr. Putzer nor his wife should know whither the child was taken; thus only could the secret remain such forever.
Late in the evening Heydeck left the castle in his carriage, driven by Melcher; the boy had been drugged, and was in deep slumber. The Bavarian town of Rosenheim was selected by Delmar as the place where the child was to be delivered up to him.
All went well: Delmar was on the spot, and received the boy with the promised sum of money. He immediately departed for Munich, and Herr von Heydeck returned to the Tyrol, firmly convinced that Delmar had no idea who had delivered the child to him.
Six months later he informed Dr. Putzer that he had placed the child in an establishment in Switzerland, where it had died of the measles. As there was no reason to doubt this, Putzer made no further investigations in the matter: indeed, any such would have been useless, so perfect had been Herr von Heydeck's precautions.
Thus everything seemed happily concluded. Herr von Heydeck had no treachery to fear, for Dr. Putzer and his wife had as much to dread from discovery as he had himself, and Melcher and his sister, if they had been capable of understanding matters, were entirely dependent upon their master, to whom they clung with slavish devotion.
And yet Herr von Heydeck was not content. The phantom of possible discovery pursued him awake and in dreams. In vain he repeated to himself that he had nothing to fear, that there was no flaw in the precautions he had taken; he could not banish the dread lest his sin should one day find him out.
Become more misanthropic than ever, he secluded himself from all human companionship, and if he had not been obliged to visit the baths every year for the sake of his health, he never would have left Castle Reifenstein.
But when years passed by and nothing was heard further of the boy, when he married again and enjoyed a happiness of which he had never dreamed, he became reassured. The dreadful dreams in which he saw his secret discovered and himself about to receive the punishment of his crime, tortured him no longer; he had even felt perfectly secure for years, when suddenly he had been startled out of this security by the appearance at the castle of his nephew's companion.
His fears had become reality. It was impossible that the dreaded stranger could have any motive but revenge and the recovery of his property. Leo's information that his friend was a millionaire, and had accompanied him to the Tyrol solely out of friendship for him, had satisfied Herr von Heydeck but for a few moments,--the more he pondered this information the more improbable did it seem to him. He could not believe that this meeting was due solely to accident.
Therefore he had in this moment of supreme peril sent for Dr. Putzer, as the only living being to whom he could look for aid and advice, and therefore, a prey to torturing anxiety, he made his long confession with the greatest minuteness, interrupted but rarely by a question from his listener.
While he gave his utmost attention to these revelations, the idea which he had thrown out just before, simply to intimidate Herr von Heydeck, recurred to Dr. Putzer's mind. He too was now more than ever convinced that Paul Delmar was aware of his parentage and of the right which he possessed to all that Herr von Heydeck possessed, and that he had come to Tausens to assert this right. But if this were the case, what the millionaire coveted was certainly not the possession of an old castle and some hundred thousand guilders which he could not possibly need, but the ancient noble name and title, upon which the plebeian merchant would of course place the greatest value.
Now this was just what Herr von Heydeck had the right to withhold from his opponent. The doctor knew perfectly well that, in view of the proofs which Heydeck could adduce, no court in Germany could force him to give his name to his wife's illegitimate child. Delmar's right to his mother's property was indisputable, but he had none whatever to the name and title of a Herr von Heydeck. If he coveted this, he must be reconciled to Herr von Heydeck, in which case he would no longer be dangerous, but would doubtless be willing richly to reward the man who should help him to the fulfilment of his desires.
And this man the doctor would be. In imagination he saw a shining stream of gold flowing from the millionaire's money-bags into his own open pockets, for such a lavish young Crœsus was a very different customer from miserly old Herr von Heydeck, from whom it had been difficult, latterly, to extort even as much as sufficed to pay the doctor's wine-bill.
He would ally himself with Paul Delmar: his safety as well as his advantage required it; he was not yet quite clear as to how this alliance was to be most advantageously concluded; he would see about all that later, when his head should be a little clearer. Now he must take great care lest Herr von Heydeck should suspect his scheme. Its success was perhaps dependent upon the old man's placing implicit confidence in him.
When the doctor was busy thinking he was fond of refreshing himself with a glass of wine; therefore, while Herr von Heydeck was making his revelations, he had frequent recourse to the bottle, which, when the narrator had come to an end, was nearly emptied, while the listener's good humour had so increased that he found it difficult to restrain the expression of it. "'Tis a confounded queer story, and you are in for it," he said, at last. "This Delmar is a devil of a fellow; he'll make you squeak. I should like to know where the deuce he heard it all. You say you took every precaution."
"I cannot understand it: I thought I was perfectly safe," Heydeck replied despairingly.
"You must have done something stupid; what it was the devil only knows; but you're in for it now; the fellow will pull the house down about your ears!"
This expression seemed to the doctor so eminently fitted to the occasion that he burst into a coarse laugh, which so irritated Herr von Heydeck that he started up, exclaiming, "What are you laughing at? I should think matters looked grave enough! I ask you for counsel, not for idiotic laughter----"
This angry outbreak only increased the doctor's tipsy merriment. "You're a wonderfully fine old fellow!" he said, vainly trying to steady his voice. "But, still, you're an old coward, afraid of your own shadow, and a skinflint into the bargain! But never mind, we're the best of friends, and I'll stand by you in this matter with your wife's son. He shall not hurt you, depend upon me. But we'll have no more of the stupid old story to-day: we'll drink and be merry. Take a glass, you old sinner; come, and don't put such a d----d wry face on the matter."
He held out to Herr von Heydeck a glass of wine as he spoke, but the old man rejected it angrily. He had been so absorbed by interest in his own narrative that he had not until this moment noticed the condition of his listener. What advice or aid could he look for from this sot? "You are drunk again," he said with contempt. "Go home and sleep it off!"
This was just what the doctor desired. He knew that his brain was confused, and that he was not in a condition to talk without betraying his secret intentions; therefore he had feigned to be more drunk than he really was, hoping thus to end the conversation for to-day. "You may be right, old Solomon!" he exclaimed, with a loud laugh. "I am a little cloudy, and a nap can do me no harm. I'll come again tomorrow and have another talk. Sleep in peace; you need not be afraid; you and I are more than a match for the young fellow!"
He arose, and although he knew he had already drunk too much, he could not withstand the temptation of the glass that was standing filled upon the table, but emptied it before he turned towards the door. Then, nodding a familiar farewell to Herr von Heydeck, who took no notice of it, he left the room by the same door by which he had entered. When he reached Melcher's apartment he thought his head felt less confused and that his gait was sufficiently steady to justify his refusing the old man's proffered guidance down the mountain, and accordingly he left the castle alone.
As he reached the court-yard a cool breeze was blowing down the valley from the snow-mountains in the north, and by the time he had crossed the bridge the wine had produced its full effect upon him. So far from being able to reflect upon the best way in which to carry out his schemes, he needed all the mind he could muster to provide for his safety in descending the mountain. His capacity for thought was not quite destroyed, although his brain was thoroughly bewildered.