Chapter Eleven.TheTrek-Schuitis a long canal-boat, divided into two compartments, forming a first and second class, and is drawn by a trotting horse along the towing-path. It contains seats well cushioned for sleeping, a table for meals, and every other convenience for ease-loving people who are not in a hurry. A pleasanter mode of conveyance cannot be conceived; there is no shaking or vibration; in rainy weather the cabin is warm and comfortable, and in fine weather the passenger can sit on deck and watch the fast receding landscape. Such was the character of the boat in which the Count and Baron were now travelling. The scenery need not be minutely described; but it presented a pleasing level on every side, and the canal being in many places raised above the surrounding country, they could look down from their seat on the deck of the boat on the corn-fields and broad green meadows, scattered over with farmhouses and cottages, and occasionally with a few trees. Windmills of course very often made their appearance, and cows, generally black and white, but mixed sometimes with a few red ones, were to be seen on every hand. The scenery, though unvaried, was not wearisome, especially when the sun shone brightly; and the fields looked fresh and green, and the water sparkled, and everywhere marks of man’s industry were to be seen. Sometimes locks had to be passed, and the boat either ascended or descended a few feet, but it was not often she left the usual level. The particulars of the journey need not be detailed, as no adventures of especial interest were met with. Leaving theTrek-Schuitthey continued their journey on land, having engaged a vehicle of antique form, the box handsomely sculptured, highly coloured and gilt, and the harness well burnished. It was drawn by a fine black horse ornamented with red bows. They stepped in, and away they dashed at a rapid rate along the well-kept road. At length, early one afternoon, they alighted at a small inn, where they resolved to remain for a day or two, that they might become better acquainted with the country and its inhabitants than they could be either by gliding through it on board aTrek-Schuit, or galloping along the road in a vehicle.“Now,” said the Baron, after he and the Count had satisfied the cravings of the inner man, “let us go forth in search of adventures.” They walked along arm-in-arm, as was their wont, looking about them.“Ah, what do I see!” exclaimed the Count. “A pretty villa, embowered by trees! a rarity in these regions. I wonder whether the inhabitants are as attractive as their residence: so lovely a spot may be the abode of the most graceful of sylphs. Even at this distance we can see what pretty creepers adorn its trellised porch; how green the lawn, howbright are the flowers; and see, yonder, how the blue river dotted by white sails sparkles in the sunlight!”“Ah, very beautiful, but I should not be surprised to find it inhabited by some stout double-fisted Vrouw or surly old bachelor,” said the Baron.The Count and the Baron walked on till they reached the garden, which was separated from the road by a light paling. On more level ground it would have been by a moat or ditch.“Ah!” exclaimed the Count. “My dear Baron, there are two young ladies seated among the roses, charming and graceful, instead of the old Vrouw you predicted we should find; and there is a little girl with her doll on the grass, and in the porch I see an elderly lady with a young boy. What a beautiful family picture!”“Ah! but do you not observe that elderly gentleman with spectacles, smoking his pipe,” said the Baron, as they advanced a few steps, and the individual spoken of came into sight. “He regards us with no friendly gaze through those spectacles of his, as if he already looked on us with suspicion.”“We will hope that his thoughts are of a more amiable character,” said the Count. “At all events, let us approach, and show him that we are worthy of any attentions he may be disposed to bestow on us.”“Come along, then; bashfulness is not among the list of my vices,” said the Baron. And together they advanced to the palings, when, simultaneously taking off their hats, they each made a profound bow to the two ladies, when the old gentleman, with spectacles on his nose and pipe in his hand, standing near the flower basket, turned round his head and regarded them with an inquiring glance.“This is my friend, Count Funnibos,” said the Baron; whereon the Count, making another bow towards the old gentleman with the spectacles, said, “And this is my friend and travelling companion, Baron Stilkin,” on which the Baron made a bow towards the old gentleman in spectacles and another towards the young ladies seated among the roses, who gracefully bent their heads in recognition of the compliment. The old gentleman, not to be outdone in civility, advancing a few paces, made two polite bows in return.“Come, we have produced some impression,” whispered the Baron to the Count. “We must not let the grass grow under our feet. I will speak to them. Most excellent and esteemed Mynheer,” he said, “Count Funnibos and I are travellers round the world, imbued with a desire to see everything interesting, beautiful, wonderful, and strange on our way, and especially the habits and customs of the inhabitants of the countries we visit. We shall therefore esteem it a favour if you will allow us to make your acquaintance, and that of your charming family. Those young ladies are, I presume, your daughters, and your excellent Vrouw, seated under the porch, is, I conclude, affording instruction to one of the younger members of your family.”“You are perfectly right, Mynheers. As you have announced you names, I am bound to inform you that mine is Hartog Van Arent, those three ladies are my daughters, and the elder lady is my Vrouw, to whom I shall have the happiness of introducing you if you will come through the gate you will find a little further on near the house.”Again the Count and Baron bowed, and expressed the honour they should feel at being introduced to the Vrouw Van Arent and her charming daughters. The young ladies, on hearing this, smiled sweetly, and rising from their seats approached the house to be in readiness to be introduced to the strangers. The Vrouw welcomed them cordially, as Dutch ladies are accustomed to receive guests, and the young ladies were not behind their mother in that respect, while the little girl ran up with her doll, which she held up to be admired, thinking more of it than herself. In a few minutes the Count and the Baron made themselves perfectly at home, as if they had known the family all their lives. Mynheer Van Arent invited them to enter the house, and after partaking of an early supper, they spent a pleasant evening. The young ladies played the piano and sang, if not artistically, with sweet voices, so that the Count and the Baron professed themselves completely captivated. They were considering it time to take their departure, when another guest was announced, and a gentleman entered who was received by Mynheer Van Arent and his Vrouw in as cordial a manner as they had been. He was introduced to the Count and the Baron as Mynheer Bunckum. He made them a somewhat stiff bow, which they returned with, their usual politeness. He evidently was taking great pains to make himself agreeable to the young ladies, who seemed, however, not over-inclined to encourage his attentions.At last, pulling out his watch, he observed that it was getting late, looking at the Count and the Baron at the same time as a hint to them to take their departure; but they waited till he had made his bow and retired, then, after some more agreeable conversation, they also bowed themselves out of the house.“Truly,” observed the Count, “this has been the pleasantest evening we have spent since we started on our travels.”“So pleasant that I presume you will wish to spend some more of the same character,” remarked the Baron.“Indeed I do,” said the Count. “For, to confess the truth, I have lost my heart.”“Have you, indeed!” exclaimed the Baron. “To which of the fair ladies, may I ask?”“That remains as yet a secret unknown to myself,” said the Count. “They are both so charming.”“Pray, as soon as you can discover the secret, do not conceal it from me,” said the Baron. “I have particular reasons for asking.”All this time they were not aware that they were closely followed by some one, who must have heard every word they said. Suddenly the sound of a footfall reached their ears, and turning they saw a figure, who, finding that he was discovered, rapidly retreated.“Stop!” cried the Count, “whoever you are; we wish to have a few words with you.”“Stop, I say!” repeated the Baron. But their shouts were unheeded, and neither of them felt inclined to give chase.“Who can that be?” asked the Count.“That is the question,” answered the Baron. “What do you say to Mynheer Bunckum? He casta jealous eye at us, as if he considered we were rivals.”“Then he should have come up and spoken to us like a man,” said the Count. “We must be on our guard, at all events, for he evidently has no friendly feeling towards us.”The Count and the Baron met with no further adventures till they reached the inn.
TheTrek-Schuitis a long canal-boat, divided into two compartments, forming a first and second class, and is drawn by a trotting horse along the towing-path. It contains seats well cushioned for sleeping, a table for meals, and every other convenience for ease-loving people who are not in a hurry. A pleasanter mode of conveyance cannot be conceived; there is no shaking or vibration; in rainy weather the cabin is warm and comfortable, and in fine weather the passenger can sit on deck and watch the fast receding landscape. Such was the character of the boat in which the Count and Baron were now travelling. The scenery need not be minutely described; but it presented a pleasing level on every side, and the canal being in many places raised above the surrounding country, they could look down from their seat on the deck of the boat on the corn-fields and broad green meadows, scattered over with farmhouses and cottages, and occasionally with a few trees. Windmills of course very often made their appearance, and cows, generally black and white, but mixed sometimes with a few red ones, were to be seen on every hand. The scenery, though unvaried, was not wearisome, especially when the sun shone brightly; and the fields looked fresh and green, and the water sparkled, and everywhere marks of man’s industry were to be seen. Sometimes locks had to be passed, and the boat either ascended or descended a few feet, but it was not often she left the usual level. The particulars of the journey need not be detailed, as no adventures of especial interest were met with. Leaving theTrek-Schuitthey continued their journey on land, having engaged a vehicle of antique form, the box handsomely sculptured, highly coloured and gilt, and the harness well burnished. It was drawn by a fine black horse ornamented with red bows. They stepped in, and away they dashed at a rapid rate along the well-kept road. At length, early one afternoon, they alighted at a small inn, where they resolved to remain for a day or two, that they might become better acquainted with the country and its inhabitants than they could be either by gliding through it on board aTrek-Schuit, or galloping along the road in a vehicle.
“Now,” said the Baron, after he and the Count had satisfied the cravings of the inner man, “let us go forth in search of adventures.” They walked along arm-in-arm, as was their wont, looking about them.
“Ah, what do I see!” exclaimed the Count. “A pretty villa, embowered by trees! a rarity in these regions. I wonder whether the inhabitants are as attractive as their residence: so lovely a spot may be the abode of the most graceful of sylphs. Even at this distance we can see what pretty creepers adorn its trellised porch; how green the lawn, howbright are the flowers; and see, yonder, how the blue river dotted by white sails sparkles in the sunlight!”
“Ah, very beautiful, but I should not be surprised to find it inhabited by some stout double-fisted Vrouw or surly old bachelor,” said the Baron.
The Count and the Baron walked on till they reached the garden, which was separated from the road by a light paling. On more level ground it would have been by a moat or ditch.
“Ah!” exclaimed the Count. “My dear Baron, there are two young ladies seated among the roses, charming and graceful, instead of the old Vrouw you predicted we should find; and there is a little girl with her doll on the grass, and in the porch I see an elderly lady with a young boy. What a beautiful family picture!”
“Ah! but do you not observe that elderly gentleman with spectacles, smoking his pipe,” said the Baron, as they advanced a few steps, and the individual spoken of came into sight. “He regards us with no friendly gaze through those spectacles of his, as if he already looked on us with suspicion.”
“We will hope that his thoughts are of a more amiable character,” said the Count. “At all events, let us approach, and show him that we are worthy of any attentions he may be disposed to bestow on us.”
“Come along, then; bashfulness is not among the list of my vices,” said the Baron. And together they advanced to the palings, when, simultaneously taking off their hats, they each made a profound bow to the two ladies, when the old gentleman, with spectacles on his nose and pipe in his hand, standing near the flower basket, turned round his head and regarded them with an inquiring glance.
“This is my friend, Count Funnibos,” said the Baron; whereon the Count, making another bow towards the old gentleman with the spectacles, said, “And this is my friend and travelling companion, Baron Stilkin,” on which the Baron made a bow towards the old gentleman in spectacles and another towards the young ladies seated among the roses, who gracefully bent their heads in recognition of the compliment. The old gentleman, not to be outdone in civility, advancing a few paces, made two polite bows in return.
“Come, we have produced some impression,” whispered the Baron to the Count. “We must not let the grass grow under our feet. I will speak to them. Most excellent and esteemed Mynheer,” he said, “Count Funnibos and I are travellers round the world, imbued with a desire to see everything interesting, beautiful, wonderful, and strange on our way, and especially the habits and customs of the inhabitants of the countries we visit. We shall therefore esteem it a favour if you will allow us to make your acquaintance, and that of your charming family. Those young ladies are, I presume, your daughters, and your excellent Vrouw, seated under the porch, is, I conclude, affording instruction to one of the younger members of your family.”
“You are perfectly right, Mynheers. As you have announced you names, I am bound to inform you that mine is Hartog Van Arent, those three ladies are my daughters, and the elder lady is my Vrouw, to whom I shall have the happiness of introducing you if you will come through the gate you will find a little further on near the house.”
Again the Count and Baron bowed, and expressed the honour they should feel at being introduced to the Vrouw Van Arent and her charming daughters. The young ladies, on hearing this, smiled sweetly, and rising from their seats approached the house to be in readiness to be introduced to the strangers. The Vrouw welcomed them cordially, as Dutch ladies are accustomed to receive guests, and the young ladies were not behind their mother in that respect, while the little girl ran up with her doll, which she held up to be admired, thinking more of it than herself. In a few minutes the Count and the Baron made themselves perfectly at home, as if they had known the family all their lives. Mynheer Van Arent invited them to enter the house, and after partaking of an early supper, they spent a pleasant evening. The young ladies played the piano and sang, if not artistically, with sweet voices, so that the Count and the Baron professed themselves completely captivated. They were considering it time to take their departure, when another guest was announced, and a gentleman entered who was received by Mynheer Van Arent and his Vrouw in as cordial a manner as they had been. He was introduced to the Count and the Baron as Mynheer Bunckum. He made them a somewhat stiff bow, which they returned with, their usual politeness. He evidently was taking great pains to make himself agreeable to the young ladies, who seemed, however, not over-inclined to encourage his attentions.
At last, pulling out his watch, he observed that it was getting late, looking at the Count and the Baron at the same time as a hint to them to take their departure; but they waited till he had made his bow and retired, then, after some more agreeable conversation, they also bowed themselves out of the house.
“Truly,” observed the Count, “this has been the pleasantest evening we have spent since we started on our travels.”
“So pleasant that I presume you will wish to spend some more of the same character,” remarked the Baron.
“Indeed I do,” said the Count. “For, to confess the truth, I have lost my heart.”
“Have you, indeed!” exclaimed the Baron. “To which of the fair ladies, may I ask?”
“That remains as yet a secret unknown to myself,” said the Count. “They are both so charming.”
“Pray, as soon as you can discover the secret, do not conceal it from me,” said the Baron. “I have particular reasons for asking.”
All this time they were not aware that they were closely followed by some one, who must have heard every word they said. Suddenly the sound of a footfall reached their ears, and turning they saw a figure, who, finding that he was discovered, rapidly retreated.
“Stop!” cried the Count, “whoever you are; we wish to have a few words with you.”
“Stop, I say!” repeated the Baron. But their shouts were unheeded, and neither of them felt inclined to give chase.
“Who can that be?” asked the Count.
“That is the question,” answered the Baron. “What do you say to Mynheer Bunckum? He casta jealous eye at us, as if he considered we were rivals.”
“Then he should have come up and spoken to us like a man,” said the Count. “We must be on our guard, at all events, for he evidently has no friendly feeling towards us.”
The Count and the Baron met with no further adventures till they reached the inn.
Chapter Twelve.The next morning the Count and the Baron rose from their downy slumbers and took breakfast, to which the Baron paid due attention, as he did, in truth, to all his meals.“Now, my dear Baron, what do you say—shall we continue our journey, or again pay our respects to the estimable family of Van Arent?” asked the Count.“At this hour, I fear, from what I know of the habits of the people, that our visit would not be welcome,” said the Baron. “The young ladies are probably engaged in milking the cows, or making butter, or superintending the manufacture of cheese. We should catch them in their working-dresses, and be considered intruders.”“Then the best thing we can do is to sally forth and see the country,” said the Count. “But yet I should not like to leave this part of it without again having the happiness of basking in the smiles of those charming young ladies, Vrouw Margaret and Vrouw Isabelle.”“I think you may be content with basking in the smiles of one of the two,” remarked the Baron, “I flatter myself that the smiles of the other are directed towards me.”“We won’t quarrel on the matter,” said the Count, who greatly disliked to dispute. “I was going to tell you that I have an idea.”“Have you, indeed!” exclaimed the Baron. “It is not often you indulge in anything of the sort, tray let me know what it is.”“My idea is this,” said the Count. “You know that I am an exquisite player on the violin, though I did not bring one with me; for I might have been mistaken, had I done so, for an itinerant musician. The idea that has occurred to me is that I will purchase one, so that I may be able to accompany the fair Vrouws when they play the piano. They are sure to be delighted, and I shall be raised still higher in their good graces.”“You are only thinking of yourself,” muttered the Baron. “But suppose,” he added aloud, “no violin is to be found in this rural district, how can you obtain one?”“I propose that we proceed to the nearest town, where such instruments are sure to be on sale; and we can return by the evening, when we are more likely to be admitted into Mynheer Van Arent’s family circle,” said the Count. “You, Baron, surely play on some instrument, and you might obtain it at the same time.”“The only instruments I play are the Jew’s harp and the kettle-drum, and I am afraid that neither are very well suited to entertain ladies in their drawing-room,” said the Baron.“Not exactly. The latter would be rather too cumbersome to carry about,” said the Count. “However, let us set forth, or we shall not have time to return before the evening.” Fortunately they found aTrek-Schuitjust starting for the far-famed town of Sneek.Occasionally the boat passed between some of the small towns and villages they had seen afar off, composed of neat houses with yellow and blue blinds. The housewives, in golden casques, the usual headdress, standing at the doors often exhibited a bright copper jug glistening in the sun. The travellers frequently passed numerous boats, the men on board of which saluted them politely. They appeared good-natured, happy fellows, with ruddy countenances, light hair, and rings hanging to their ears. They were mostly dressed in red shirts, blue and white knickerbockers fastened at the knee, and thick brown woollen stockings. The boat, as she glided on, was generally accompanied by sea-gulls, storks with long legs and outstretched necks, flights of lapwings, and other species of the feathered tribe, uttering their plaintive cries, and ever and anon as they skimmed the waves diving below the water to bring some hapless fish in their long slender beaks.“Here we are,” cried the Count, as they glided into the picturesque little town of Sneek, with its houses of white woodwork and painted window-frames, its winding streets and high-arched bridges, its trees and shady walks along the canals, its gaily-painted canal-boats, and its picturesque water-gate. The town itself was soon inspected, while the Count and the Baron on their way made inquiries for the instrument the former was anxious to purchase. They were almost giving up the search in despair, when they heard of a manufacturer who was said to have produced violins which, in the hands of an artist, were capable of giving forth such touching sounds that many who heard them were moved to tears.“That is just the description of instrument I require,” exclaimed the Count.He and the Baron hastened on to the shop of the manufacturer. It was an ancient building, the front of which looked as if, before long, it would become acquainted with the roadway. There were not only violins, but other musical instruments and curiosities of all sorts.“Before I part with the violin I must hear you play,” said the vendor; “I never allow my instruments to go into unskilled hands.”The Count eagerly took the violin, and played a few notes. The Baron produced his pocket-handkerchief, and placed it to his eyes.“Touching, very touching!” he exclaimed.“You will do,” said the vendor.The Count, well pleased with his purchase, asked the Baron if he could find any instrument to suit him.The Baron shook his head, mournfully. “I must depend on my voice; and, provided I do not catch a cold, that will, I hope, produce as much effect as your fiddle.”“We shall see,” said the Count.Leaving the shop, they hastened back to theTrek-Schuit, which was about to return the way they had come. The journey occupied so long a time that the shades of evening were already stealing over the landscape when they reached their inn. Though the Count was eager at once to set out for the house of Mynheer Van Arent, the Baron declared that, without his supper, he could not sing at all. By the time that was finished it was dark.“Now,” said the Count, “let us go; even for you, Baron, I cannot wait longer.”The Count, of course, carried his violin.“As it is too late to present ourselves, we will remain outside among the trees. You shall play an air, and I will sing a song, and we will then go in and ascertain the effect,” said the Baron.They soon got to a part of the shrubbery where they could effectually conceal themselves. Overhead they observed a tall tree—one of the branches of which extended to the walls of the house.“Now,” whispered the Baron, “shall I sing, or will you commence an air on your violin?”“I will begin,” said the Count, who was on the point of drawing the bow across the strings, when the Baron grasped his arm.“Hark!” he said; “look up there.”What was their astonishment to observe a figure climbing the ancient tree they had remarked close above them. They, at all events, had not been discovered. Higher and higher the person climbed, till he gained a bough extending towards the house. Along it he made his way. When near the end, he stopped and threw several pieces of a branch he broke off against the shutter of a window, which was at no great distance from where he stood.The Count, thus interrupted in his intended serenade, with jealous eyes watched the proceedings of the stranger, fully expecting that either Vrouw Margaret or Vrouw Isabelle would appear at the window. At length it opened, when, instead, the more portly form of Vrouw Van Arent herself came into view. She gazed with open eyes at the stranger standing up on the bough of the tree.“Who are you, who thus, in so unseemly a way, ventures to disturb the quiet of our abode?” she asked, in somewhat angry tones.“Hist, hist, Vrouw Van Arent! I am Ten Dick Bunckum. Not wishing to appear in the presence of your fair daughters, I have taken thismethod of warning you of a danger which threatens your family. Yesterday evening two persons were received in your house, who pretend to be a Count and a Baron. I have strong evidence, if not proof positive, that they are strolling musicians, who are travelling about the country to prey on the unwary. My great desire is to put you on your guard against them.”“I am much obliged to you for your good intentions, Mynheer Bunckum, but would rather you had taken some other method of warning me, instead of throwing sticks at this window.”“I could not tell whether those pretended Count and Baron were already in your house; and, as my object was to avoid meeting them, I climbed into this tree that I might wait till I saw you approach the window.”“The Count and Baron have not come to the house this evening, and I would advise you, Mynheer Bunckum, to descend from your perilous position, and allow my husband and me to arrange our family affairs as we think right and best; and I must again beg you to get off that tree, and take care, as you do so, that you do not fall down and break your neck.”“I obey you, Vrouw Van Arent,” answered Mynheer Bunckum, cautiously retracing his steps along the branch, while the lady of the mansion shut the window, and closed the shutter over it, which completely excluded the light.The Count and the Baron meantime waited in their place of concealment, fully believing that Mynheer Bunckum, on reaching the ground, would discover them. They had no wish that he should do this, as it would show him that they were aware of his malignant designs. They therefore drew close under the bushes, scarcely venturing to to breathe. They could hear him, as he reached the ground, threatening vengeance on their heads. He passed so close to them that the Baron, by catching hold of his leg, might have tripped him up, and punished him for his false accusations; but they wisely allowed him to go on, as they considered that such a proceeding would not be calculated to raise them in the estimation of Mynheer Van Arent and his family. They waited till he had got to some distance when, coming out of their place of concealment, they followed him to ascertain in what direction he was going. He was evidently too much put out to venture that evening into the presence of the ladies.On the way to their inn they naturally looked about them to the right hand and to the left, as well as occasionally behind, to be certain that their jealous rival, as they considered Mynheer Bunckum, was not following them. He all the time was engaged in forming a design against their liberties of which they had no notion. On reaching the inn, they found a note on pink paper in a delicate female hand purporting to come from Mynheer Van Arent, inviting them to accompany his family to a picnic on the banks of the Meer on the following morning.“By all means we will go,” exclaimed the Count. “I will take my violin, and who knows what may happen.”In the course of conversation they made inquiries about the various people in the neighbourhood of the landlady, whose good graces they had won.“What sort of a person is Mynheer Bunckum?” asked the Count.“He owns the castle of Wykel, not far from this. It is said that he is trying to win the hand of one of the daughters of Mynheer Van Arent, but whether or not he will gain her is a question. I desire to put you on your guard against him, Mynheers, for he is not a man to be trifled with.” Proceeding at an early hour the next morning to the house of Mynheer Van Arent, they found the family prepared for their excursion. The distance to the lake was not great, and on reaching the pier, running out a short distance into the shallow water, a large boat of substantial build was seen alongside. She of course was round-sterned, drawing but little water, but had tolerably sharp bows; her poop was gilded and carved, as was her stern, while every part was either varnished or brilliantly coloured. She was indeed the family yacht. Instead of white canvas her sails were of a dark red hue, though of fine material; she had a comfortably fitted-up cabin, with every luxury on board. Numberless other vessels, broad and shallow, were sailing here and there over the lake, their sails either red brick or saffron-coloured, reflected on the violet-tinted waters, which contrasted with the silvery hue of the sky, and a green ribbon of land bordering the lake. These flat-bottomed, bulging round vessels were employed in distributing the produce of the neighbouring farms to all parts of the country around.A short sail on board the yacht took the party to the point which had been selected for their picnic, at which other yachts of a similar construction quickly arrived, and the viands they had brought were then carried on shore, and spread under the shade of the trees. Mynheer Bunckum before long made his appearance, looking gloomy and morose, as he observed the strangers. The Count and the Baron were introduced to a number of persons, who did their best to make themselves agreeable. The feast having concluded, at which if there was not much wit there was a great deal of laughter, the party retreated to a more shady spot, where the Count was requested to favour them with an air on his violin. He gladly complied, and elicited general applause, greatly to the annoyance of Mynheer Bunckum, who, getting up, retired to a distance, and sat himself down,fishing-rod in hand, on a point which projected into the lake, as if such music was not worth listening to.Meantime a boat had arrived on the beach containing three or four urchins from a neighbouring village, one of whom climbed up on a bank overlooking the spots where the party were collected, and the dinner cloth was spread. He had so placed himself that he could make a signal to his companions: two of these shortly afterwards getting out of their boat, and seeing him beckon, cautiously crept along the shore towards where the party had been enjoying their meal. There was no doubt about their object: they filled not only their capacious pockets, but some large handkerchiefs which they had brought, with everything on which they could lay their hands, especially the silver spoons and forks and other plate. Then at a sign from their companion they rapidly retreated, he quickly following, unnoticed by Mynheer Bunckum or any one else. On reaching their boat, away they pulled with their booty, and were soon out of sight. The Baron and two or three other gentlemen, whose appetites had not been fully satisfied, returned shortly after this to the table, if so it could be called, and though they observed that some of the things had been disarranged, it did not occur to them that the spot had been visited by robbers. The Baron was the last to leave and return to the ladies. Not till the servants came to pack up the plates and dishes, and knives and forks, was the robbery discovered. Just then Mynheer Bunckum, who had got tired of fishing, and had returned to the table, on hearing that several articles were missing, exclaimed:“I know who is the robber, I saw what that Baron was about. I shall now be able to prove that my suspicions were correct!”He, however, made no further remark at the time, so that the harmony which had prevailed during the picnic was not disturbed. On the approach of evening the various parties separated to their different homes. The Count and the Baron accompanied Mynheer Van Arent and his family to theirs, whence after a friendly farewell they returned to their inn.
The next morning the Count and the Baron rose from their downy slumbers and took breakfast, to which the Baron paid due attention, as he did, in truth, to all his meals.
“Now, my dear Baron, what do you say—shall we continue our journey, or again pay our respects to the estimable family of Van Arent?” asked the Count.
“At this hour, I fear, from what I know of the habits of the people, that our visit would not be welcome,” said the Baron. “The young ladies are probably engaged in milking the cows, or making butter, or superintending the manufacture of cheese. We should catch them in their working-dresses, and be considered intruders.”
“Then the best thing we can do is to sally forth and see the country,” said the Count. “But yet I should not like to leave this part of it without again having the happiness of basking in the smiles of those charming young ladies, Vrouw Margaret and Vrouw Isabelle.”
“I think you may be content with basking in the smiles of one of the two,” remarked the Baron, “I flatter myself that the smiles of the other are directed towards me.”
“We won’t quarrel on the matter,” said the Count, who greatly disliked to dispute. “I was going to tell you that I have an idea.”
“Have you, indeed!” exclaimed the Baron. “It is not often you indulge in anything of the sort, tray let me know what it is.”
“My idea is this,” said the Count. “You know that I am an exquisite player on the violin, though I did not bring one with me; for I might have been mistaken, had I done so, for an itinerant musician. The idea that has occurred to me is that I will purchase one, so that I may be able to accompany the fair Vrouws when they play the piano. They are sure to be delighted, and I shall be raised still higher in their good graces.”
“You are only thinking of yourself,” muttered the Baron. “But suppose,” he added aloud, “no violin is to be found in this rural district, how can you obtain one?”
“I propose that we proceed to the nearest town, where such instruments are sure to be on sale; and we can return by the evening, when we are more likely to be admitted into Mynheer Van Arent’s family circle,” said the Count. “You, Baron, surely play on some instrument, and you might obtain it at the same time.”
“The only instruments I play are the Jew’s harp and the kettle-drum, and I am afraid that neither are very well suited to entertain ladies in their drawing-room,” said the Baron.
“Not exactly. The latter would be rather too cumbersome to carry about,” said the Count. “However, let us set forth, or we shall not have time to return before the evening.” Fortunately they found aTrek-Schuitjust starting for the far-famed town of Sneek.
Occasionally the boat passed between some of the small towns and villages they had seen afar off, composed of neat houses with yellow and blue blinds. The housewives, in golden casques, the usual headdress, standing at the doors often exhibited a bright copper jug glistening in the sun. The travellers frequently passed numerous boats, the men on board of which saluted them politely. They appeared good-natured, happy fellows, with ruddy countenances, light hair, and rings hanging to their ears. They were mostly dressed in red shirts, blue and white knickerbockers fastened at the knee, and thick brown woollen stockings. The boat, as she glided on, was generally accompanied by sea-gulls, storks with long legs and outstretched necks, flights of lapwings, and other species of the feathered tribe, uttering their plaintive cries, and ever and anon as they skimmed the waves diving below the water to bring some hapless fish in their long slender beaks.
“Here we are,” cried the Count, as they glided into the picturesque little town of Sneek, with its houses of white woodwork and painted window-frames, its winding streets and high-arched bridges, its trees and shady walks along the canals, its gaily-painted canal-boats, and its picturesque water-gate. The town itself was soon inspected, while the Count and the Baron on their way made inquiries for the instrument the former was anxious to purchase. They were almost giving up the search in despair, when they heard of a manufacturer who was said to have produced violins which, in the hands of an artist, were capable of giving forth such touching sounds that many who heard them were moved to tears.
“That is just the description of instrument I require,” exclaimed the Count.
He and the Baron hastened on to the shop of the manufacturer. It was an ancient building, the front of which looked as if, before long, it would become acquainted with the roadway. There were not only violins, but other musical instruments and curiosities of all sorts.
“Before I part with the violin I must hear you play,” said the vendor; “I never allow my instruments to go into unskilled hands.”
The Count eagerly took the violin, and played a few notes. The Baron produced his pocket-handkerchief, and placed it to his eyes.
“Touching, very touching!” he exclaimed.
“You will do,” said the vendor.
The Count, well pleased with his purchase, asked the Baron if he could find any instrument to suit him.
The Baron shook his head, mournfully. “I must depend on my voice; and, provided I do not catch a cold, that will, I hope, produce as much effect as your fiddle.”
“We shall see,” said the Count.
Leaving the shop, they hastened back to theTrek-Schuit, which was about to return the way they had come. The journey occupied so long a time that the shades of evening were already stealing over the landscape when they reached their inn. Though the Count was eager at once to set out for the house of Mynheer Van Arent, the Baron declared that, without his supper, he could not sing at all. By the time that was finished it was dark.
“Now,” said the Count, “let us go; even for you, Baron, I cannot wait longer.”
The Count, of course, carried his violin.
“As it is too late to present ourselves, we will remain outside among the trees. You shall play an air, and I will sing a song, and we will then go in and ascertain the effect,” said the Baron.
They soon got to a part of the shrubbery where they could effectually conceal themselves. Overhead they observed a tall tree—one of the branches of which extended to the walls of the house.
“Now,” whispered the Baron, “shall I sing, or will you commence an air on your violin?”
“I will begin,” said the Count, who was on the point of drawing the bow across the strings, when the Baron grasped his arm.
“Hark!” he said; “look up there.”
What was their astonishment to observe a figure climbing the ancient tree they had remarked close above them. They, at all events, had not been discovered. Higher and higher the person climbed, till he gained a bough extending towards the house. Along it he made his way. When near the end, he stopped and threw several pieces of a branch he broke off against the shutter of a window, which was at no great distance from where he stood.
The Count, thus interrupted in his intended serenade, with jealous eyes watched the proceedings of the stranger, fully expecting that either Vrouw Margaret or Vrouw Isabelle would appear at the window. At length it opened, when, instead, the more portly form of Vrouw Van Arent herself came into view. She gazed with open eyes at the stranger standing up on the bough of the tree.
“Who are you, who thus, in so unseemly a way, ventures to disturb the quiet of our abode?” she asked, in somewhat angry tones.
“Hist, hist, Vrouw Van Arent! I am Ten Dick Bunckum. Not wishing to appear in the presence of your fair daughters, I have taken thismethod of warning you of a danger which threatens your family. Yesterday evening two persons were received in your house, who pretend to be a Count and a Baron. I have strong evidence, if not proof positive, that they are strolling musicians, who are travelling about the country to prey on the unwary. My great desire is to put you on your guard against them.”
“I am much obliged to you for your good intentions, Mynheer Bunckum, but would rather you had taken some other method of warning me, instead of throwing sticks at this window.”
“I could not tell whether those pretended Count and Baron were already in your house; and, as my object was to avoid meeting them, I climbed into this tree that I might wait till I saw you approach the window.”
“The Count and Baron have not come to the house this evening, and I would advise you, Mynheer Bunckum, to descend from your perilous position, and allow my husband and me to arrange our family affairs as we think right and best; and I must again beg you to get off that tree, and take care, as you do so, that you do not fall down and break your neck.”
“I obey you, Vrouw Van Arent,” answered Mynheer Bunckum, cautiously retracing his steps along the branch, while the lady of the mansion shut the window, and closed the shutter over it, which completely excluded the light.
The Count and the Baron meantime waited in their place of concealment, fully believing that Mynheer Bunckum, on reaching the ground, would discover them. They had no wish that he should do this, as it would show him that they were aware of his malignant designs. They therefore drew close under the bushes, scarcely venturing to to breathe. They could hear him, as he reached the ground, threatening vengeance on their heads. He passed so close to them that the Baron, by catching hold of his leg, might have tripped him up, and punished him for his false accusations; but they wisely allowed him to go on, as they considered that such a proceeding would not be calculated to raise them in the estimation of Mynheer Van Arent and his family. They waited till he had got to some distance when, coming out of their place of concealment, they followed him to ascertain in what direction he was going. He was evidently too much put out to venture that evening into the presence of the ladies.
On the way to their inn they naturally looked about them to the right hand and to the left, as well as occasionally behind, to be certain that their jealous rival, as they considered Mynheer Bunckum, was not following them. He all the time was engaged in forming a design against their liberties of which they had no notion. On reaching the inn, they found a note on pink paper in a delicate female hand purporting to come from Mynheer Van Arent, inviting them to accompany his family to a picnic on the banks of the Meer on the following morning.
“By all means we will go,” exclaimed the Count. “I will take my violin, and who knows what may happen.”
In the course of conversation they made inquiries about the various people in the neighbourhood of the landlady, whose good graces they had won.
“What sort of a person is Mynheer Bunckum?” asked the Count.
“He owns the castle of Wykel, not far from this. It is said that he is trying to win the hand of one of the daughters of Mynheer Van Arent, but whether or not he will gain her is a question. I desire to put you on your guard against him, Mynheers, for he is not a man to be trifled with.” Proceeding at an early hour the next morning to the house of Mynheer Van Arent, they found the family prepared for their excursion. The distance to the lake was not great, and on reaching the pier, running out a short distance into the shallow water, a large boat of substantial build was seen alongside. She of course was round-sterned, drawing but little water, but had tolerably sharp bows; her poop was gilded and carved, as was her stern, while every part was either varnished or brilliantly coloured. She was indeed the family yacht. Instead of white canvas her sails were of a dark red hue, though of fine material; she had a comfortably fitted-up cabin, with every luxury on board. Numberless other vessels, broad and shallow, were sailing here and there over the lake, their sails either red brick or saffron-coloured, reflected on the violet-tinted waters, which contrasted with the silvery hue of the sky, and a green ribbon of land bordering the lake. These flat-bottomed, bulging round vessels were employed in distributing the produce of the neighbouring farms to all parts of the country around.
A short sail on board the yacht took the party to the point which had been selected for their picnic, at which other yachts of a similar construction quickly arrived, and the viands they had brought were then carried on shore, and spread under the shade of the trees. Mynheer Bunckum before long made his appearance, looking gloomy and morose, as he observed the strangers. The Count and the Baron were introduced to a number of persons, who did their best to make themselves agreeable. The feast having concluded, at which if there was not much wit there was a great deal of laughter, the party retreated to a more shady spot, where the Count was requested to favour them with an air on his violin. He gladly complied, and elicited general applause, greatly to the annoyance of Mynheer Bunckum, who, getting up, retired to a distance, and sat himself down,fishing-rod in hand, on a point which projected into the lake, as if such music was not worth listening to.
Meantime a boat had arrived on the beach containing three or four urchins from a neighbouring village, one of whom climbed up on a bank overlooking the spots where the party were collected, and the dinner cloth was spread. He had so placed himself that he could make a signal to his companions: two of these shortly afterwards getting out of their boat, and seeing him beckon, cautiously crept along the shore towards where the party had been enjoying their meal. There was no doubt about their object: they filled not only their capacious pockets, but some large handkerchiefs which they had brought, with everything on which they could lay their hands, especially the silver spoons and forks and other plate. Then at a sign from their companion they rapidly retreated, he quickly following, unnoticed by Mynheer Bunckum or any one else. On reaching their boat, away they pulled with their booty, and were soon out of sight. The Baron and two or three other gentlemen, whose appetites had not been fully satisfied, returned shortly after this to the table, if so it could be called, and though they observed that some of the things had been disarranged, it did not occur to them that the spot had been visited by robbers. The Baron was the last to leave and return to the ladies. Not till the servants came to pack up the plates and dishes, and knives and forks, was the robbery discovered. Just then Mynheer Bunckum, who had got tired of fishing, and had returned to the table, on hearing that several articles were missing, exclaimed:
“I know who is the robber, I saw what that Baron was about. I shall now be able to prove that my suspicions were correct!”
He, however, made no further remark at the time, so that the harmony which had prevailed during the picnic was not disturbed. On the approach of evening the various parties separated to their different homes. The Count and the Baron accompanied Mynheer Van Arent and his family to theirs, whence after a friendly farewell they returned to their inn.
Chapter Thirteen.The day following the picnic on the Meer, the Count and the Baron set out to pay a visit to the Van Arent family. As yet, however, they could not tell whether the courteous treatment they had received was simply owing to their being strangers of rank. The Count fancied that his performances on the violin, and the Baron supposed that his fascinating powers of conversation, and other attractive qualities, had something to do with it. On reaching the house they were told that the ladies had gone to take a walk at some distance.“Perhaps we may meet them,” said the Count to the Baron.They inquired of the servant in what direction the ladies had gone. He pointed to the northward, and they set out; they walked on and on till they arrived at a wood, such as is not often found in that part of the country, and they observed an ancient tower with battlements rising up amid the trees.“This looks like an interesting place,” observed the Count, “let us explore it.”“By all means,” answered the Baron. And they walked on with that air of curiosity generally exhibited by strangers when arriving at a place worth seeing.“Fine trees and shady walks, really my castle scarcely exhibits anything finer; if I marry the fair Isabelle, it’s just the sort of place I should like to possess; but we may pay it a hurried visit,” said the Count.“Then it is the Vrouw Isabelle on whom your regards are fixed?” observed the Baron.“It was but a slip of my tongue,” said the Count. “I did not intend to betray my secret.”“All right, my dear Count; to say the truth, my heart has been captivated by the Vrouw Margaret, so that we shall not be rivals.”“That is a fortunate circumstance,” observed the Count, in a somewhat supercilious tone. “However, you must remember that we, both of us, have to ascertain the feelings of the ladies; at present we are left somewhat in the dark on that subject.”“I cannot say that I think so,” answered the Baron, drawing up his shirt-collar. “I flatter myself that the Vrouw Margaret regards me with peculiar distinction.”“Did I possess more vanity in this case, I might have said the same with regard to Vrouw Isabelle,” said the Count.“You do, do you!” exclaimed a voice from among the bushes, which made the Count and the Baron start.“Who could that have been?” exclaimed the Count.“Where did it come from?” cried the Baron.“Let us try to discover the eavesdropper,” said the Count.“We had better not,” whispered the Baron. “Depend upon it the person, whoever he is, is prepared for us. We had better move on, and not in future talk so loudly of our private affairs.”“Your advice is good,” said the Count; “we will follow it.”And they moved on a short distance, paying much less attention than before to the beauties of the scenery. They had just reached the neighbourhood of what appeared to be an old summer-house, now neglected and disused, for it was thickly overgrown with ivy and various creepers. Looking up close to it they observed a board, on which was painted in large letters, “Whoever is found trespassing in these grounds will be punished with the utmost rigour of the law.” Scarcely had they read this unpleasant announcement, when they observed at the farther end of the walk a party of men, who from their costume were evidently huntsmen or gamekeepers, led by a person whom they recognised at a glance as Mynheer Bunckum, their jealous rival.“There are the robbers! There are the impostors! There are those thieves and vagabonds, who have come here pretending to be noblemen travelling for their pleasure. On! on! seize them, my men! treat them with no ceremony.”Mynheer Bunckum, though he shouted, did not move himself, and his followers appeared to hesitate for a few moments. This gave time to the Count and Baron to retreat behind the summer-house.“Come along, Count, we must trust to our legs to escape from these fellows,” cried the Baron, and he set off running as fast as he could go.“Stop! stop!” cried the Count. “You will be seen to a certainty and overtaken; come in here, I perceive an opening, and we shall be able to lie hid, while our jealous rival passes by.”The Baron, however, did not hear him, but still rushed on.“I shall be seen if I attempt to run,” thought the Count. Without more ado he slipped through an opening in the side of the wall, in his hurry forgetting to feel his way. He had made but a few steps when, to his dismay, he found himself descending, and fully believed that he was about to be precipitated down a well. Greatly to his relief he reached the bottom sooner than he had expected.“Here, at all events, I shall be secure while our jealous rival and his men are hunting about for me; but I am afraid the Baron has very little chance of escaping. I might have got into rather a pleasanter place; it is somewhat damp; I hear the frogs croaking, and feel the slippery efts and other creatures crawling about. I only hope that there are no venomous snakes; but, by the by, how am I ever to get out again? We should have acted more wisely had we walked up boldly to Mynheer Bunckum, and apologising for having entered his grounds, wished him good morning. It is entirely owing to the Baron’s cowardice that I am placed in this very unpleasant position.”Such were the thoughts which passed through the Count’s mind, for he did not speak them aloud. He heard the voices of Mynheer Bunckum and his men, as they searched round and round the building, but none of them looked into the well, or if they did, failed to discover him. At length, to his great relief, their voices grew less and less distinct, and he was satisfied that they were moving on.“At all events this delay will have enabled the Baron to make his escape, and I hope that by and by, when these people have given up the search, I shall be able to rejoin him,” he thought.Meantime the Baron had continued his course. Not being much accustomed to running, he soon began to puff and blow, and wish that he could find some place in which to hide himself, and recover his wind. Instead of taking the direct path along which he and the Count had come, rightly suspecting that if he did so he should quickly be observed, he turned aside to a wilder part of the wood; he stopped every now and then to try and recover his breath, and to ascertain if the Count was following. Having no landmark to direct him, he completely lost himself, and became very uncertain whether he was making his way out of the wood, or only getting further into it.“It was very selfish and unmannerly in Count Funnibos not to accompany me,” he said to himself. “We might have helped each other out of this difficulty; and, indeed, at any moment Mynheer Bunckum and his myrmidons may overtake me, and in the vicious mood they are in, I do not know how I shall be treated. Ah! there I see a large hollow tree. Yes, there is an opening at the bottom, I will creep in and try to conceal myself within the stem till the hue and cry is over.”Suiting the action to the word, the Baron knelt down, and was about to crawl into the opening when he saw a movement of the bushes at a little distance off, and presently a head popped up above them.“I hope that I was not observed,” he thought, and he quickly crawled in at the hole, unfortunately, as he did so, knocking off his hat, which rolled away on one side; he dared not crawl out again to look for it, and could only hope that it would be concealed by the tall grass and underwood which grew around. The Baron stood trembling and quaking in his boots, every moment expecting to be discovered,while he felt sure that the face of which he had caught a glimpse was no other than that of the jealous rival.He listened anxiously; he could hear the cracking of the boughs, and then the sound of footsteps approaching. Nearer and nearer drew the footsteps; presently he heard an exclamation of surprise.“Why, this is the hat of one of them,” said a voice.“Yes; it is that of the fat, ridiculous little man who pretended to be a Baron,” answered a female voice.Was it possible? Yes, the Baron felt sure that the voice was that of the fair Vrouw Margaret on whom he had placed his affections.“Little doubt whose hat it is,” observed the first speaker. “Very likely his pockets are even now full of your father’s and Mynheer Baskerville’s plate. What shall we do with him if we catch him?”“I must leave him to your tender mercies,” said Vrouw Margaret. “As he deceived us so grossly I cannot plead for him. Punish him as you think fit, and then let him go, if he will promise not to come near our house again.”“We have not caught him yet, though,” observed Mynheer Bunckum. “But here come my men, and we’ll make a thorough search in the neighbourhood.”The Baron at this trembled more and more; while Mynheer Bunckum and Vrouw Margaret were speaking he heard several other persons approaching, who had, he judged by the remarks they let fall, been searching in vain for the Count. No one seemed to remark the hole in the tree; indeed, probably judging by the Baron’s figure, they did not suppose that he could have crawled into it.“The chances are the two went off together,” remarked one of the keepers, “and by this time they are well out of the park.”“But what about this head-piece?” said Mynheer Bunckum, holding up the Baron’s hat.“He may have dropped it in his flight,” said the keeper.“If that is the case, we ought to be still pursuing them,” said Mynheer Bunckum. “On, my men, and bring them back to me dead or alive! Come, Vrouw Margaret, we will continue our ramble; really, it is scarcely worth while to take so much trouble about the capture of these contemptible people, were it not to recover your father’s and Mynheer Baskerville’s plate.”They had gone but a short distance when they observed one of the keepers returning.“I must hurry on the others,” said Mynheer Bunckum. “Stay but a moment, my fair Vrouw, and I will return to you,” he said, and hastened away.Just then a shout fell on the ear of Vrouw Margaret, and she made her way in the direction from which it proceeded, when looking over the bushes she caught sight of the keeper dragging on the unfortunate Baron by the collar of his coat. The keeper was a knowing fellow, a strong, sturdy Frieslander. Suddenly it struck him that the Baron, in spite of his rotund figure, might have crept into the hole at the bottom of the old oak; and as the Baron’s hat had been found near it, he divined, and truly, that it had been knocked off while the Baron was creeping in. He accordingly had gone back for the purpose of ascertaining whether his suspicions were correct. Putting in his hand, he felt one leg, then he felt another. The Baron in vain tried to draw them up out of the way; the sturdy Frieslander hauled and hauled much in the same way as he would have pulled a snake out of its hole, and dragged the hapless Baron out of the hollow tree.“I have got you, Mynheer, have I?” he said, looking at the Baron’s pale countenance. “Why did you hide? Honest men do not try to conceal themselves. Come along, and answer for yourself to Mynheer Bunckum, and tell us what has become of your companion.”The Baron was too much alarmed to reply or to offer any resistance; indeed, in the grasp of the sturdy Frieslander it would have been useless, so like a lamb he accompanied his captor. Suddenly, however, he saw a fair face looking over the bushes—it was that of the Vrouw Margaret. The sight aroused all the manhood within him; he knew himself to be innocent, he knew that the treatment he was receiving was owing to the ill-feeling of a jealous rival. He determined to show that he would not submit tamely to be ill-treated, and suddenly starting forward he endeavoured to free himself from the grasp of his captor. A fatal resolution—the Frieslander in a moment tripped up his heels, and down he fell with his face on the ground, while the Frieslander knelt over him exclaiming—“You will escape me, will you! you are mistaken, Mynheer;” and, his anger aroused, seizing the Baron by the hair, he rubbed his face in the muddy ground.In vain the Baron tried to free himself, in vain he tried to cry out; the moment he opened his mouth, down went his face again into the mud till he was well-nigh suffocated.“Will not you, Vrouw Margaret, have pity on me? Will you not interfere to save me from this cruel indignity?” he exclaimed, but the Vrouw Margaret calmly watched the proceedings of the sturdy Frieslander as if she highly approved of them.“Will you go along quietly?” asked the Frieslander, after he had subjected the Baron for some minutes to this disagreeable treatment. “Say ‘yes,’ or ‘no;’ for, if you say ‘no,’ be prepared for another mouthful of mud.”“Yes, yes; I will go!” cried the Baron, the conduct of the fair Vrouw cutting him to the heart.“Well, then, I will let you get up; but remember, the instant you attempt to release yourself, down you go again, and perhaps in a less pleasant place than the last.” Saying this the sturdy Frieslander placed the Baron on his legs.“Come, you must wash the mud off your face in yonder pool,” said the Frieslander, “for you look more ridiculous than you can well imagine.”The Baron accepted his captor’s offer, for not only his mouth and nostrils, but his very eyes were filled with mud.“Come, you look a little less ridiculous now,” said the Frieslander with a taunting laugh, as he led the Baron past the spot where, Vrouw Margaret was standing. In vain the Baron stretched out his hands and entreated her to plead for him, but she turned aside her head, and his captor dragged him along till they met Mynheer Bunckum and the rest of his men.“I have got one of them!” cried the Frieslander. “What is to be done with him? I have not yet examined his pockets, so cannot say whether the stolen plate is in them.”“We will soon ascertain that,” said Mynheer Bunckum.The unfortunate Baron Stilkin was subjected to the indignity of being searched. Only such ordinary things as a gentleman carries about with him were discovered in the Baron’s pockets, but certainly no silver forks or spoons.“And where is your companion?” asked Mynheer Bunckum in an authoritative tone.“I know no more than the man in the moon. I parted from him when we read the notice that trespassers on this estate would be prosecuted; till then we did not know that we were trespassing, but on discovering that such was the case, we were retiring when, your shouts alarming us, we proceeded farther than we should otherwise have done.”“Then you say you know nothing about the so-called Count Funnibos?”“I know nothing about the real Count Funnibos, for real he is, as I am a real Baron!” cried the ill-treated noble, his spirits rising once more. “I conclude that he is by this time out of these grounds, and on his way to the inn where we are residing; and I must beg you to understand, Mynheer, that we shall forthwith proceed to the Hague, and lay a formal complaint before our Ambassador of the way in which we distinguished foreigners have been treated.”“I will take the consequences,” answered Mynheer Bunckum; and turning to his servants, he said, “We have no evidence against the man; conduct him to the confines of the estate, and with such kicks as you feel disposed to bestow, let him go his way.”“I protest, I loudly protest against this treatment!” cried the Baron.But the sturdy Frieslander with his companions, utterly regardless of all the Baron could say, dragged him along till they reached the outskirts of the estate, when, placing him before them, they bade him run for his life, which to the best of his power he endeavoured to do to save himself from the kicks they had threatened to bestow. On he ran, not once looking behind him, followed by the derisive laughter of the sturdy Frieslander and his companions.
The day following the picnic on the Meer, the Count and the Baron set out to pay a visit to the Van Arent family. As yet, however, they could not tell whether the courteous treatment they had received was simply owing to their being strangers of rank. The Count fancied that his performances on the violin, and the Baron supposed that his fascinating powers of conversation, and other attractive qualities, had something to do with it. On reaching the house they were told that the ladies had gone to take a walk at some distance.
“Perhaps we may meet them,” said the Count to the Baron.
They inquired of the servant in what direction the ladies had gone. He pointed to the northward, and they set out; they walked on and on till they arrived at a wood, such as is not often found in that part of the country, and they observed an ancient tower with battlements rising up amid the trees.
“This looks like an interesting place,” observed the Count, “let us explore it.”
“By all means,” answered the Baron. And they walked on with that air of curiosity generally exhibited by strangers when arriving at a place worth seeing.
“Fine trees and shady walks, really my castle scarcely exhibits anything finer; if I marry the fair Isabelle, it’s just the sort of place I should like to possess; but we may pay it a hurried visit,” said the Count.
“Then it is the Vrouw Isabelle on whom your regards are fixed?” observed the Baron.
“It was but a slip of my tongue,” said the Count. “I did not intend to betray my secret.”
“All right, my dear Count; to say the truth, my heart has been captivated by the Vrouw Margaret, so that we shall not be rivals.”
“That is a fortunate circumstance,” observed the Count, in a somewhat supercilious tone. “However, you must remember that we, both of us, have to ascertain the feelings of the ladies; at present we are left somewhat in the dark on that subject.”
“I cannot say that I think so,” answered the Baron, drawing up his shirt-collar. “I flatter myself that the Vrouw Margaret regards me with peculiar distinction.”
“Did I possess more vanity in this case, I might have said the same with regard to Vrouw Isabelle,” said the Count.
“You do, do you!” exclaimed a voice from among the bushes, which made the Count and the Baron start.
“Who could that have been?” exclaimed the Count.
“Where did it come from?” cried the Baron.
“Let us try to discover the eavesdropper,” said the Count.
“We had better not,” whispered the Baron. “Depend upon it the person, whoever he is, is prepared for us. We had better move on, and not in future talk so loudly of our private affairs.”
“Your advice is good,” said the Count; “we will follow it.”
And they moved on a short distance, paying much less attention than before to the beauties of the scenery. They had just reached the neighbourhood of what appeared to be an old summer-house, now neglected and disused, for it was thickly overgrown with ivy and various creepers. Looking up close to it they observed a board, on which was painted in large letters, “Whoever is found trespassing in these grounds will be punished with the utmost rigour of the law.” Scarcely had they read this unpleasant announcement, when they observed at the farther end of the walk a party of men, who from their costume were evidently huntsmen or gamekeepers, led by a person whom they recognised at a glance as Mynheer Bunckum, their jealous rival.
“There are the robbers! There are the impostors! There are those thieves and vagabonds, who have come here pretending to be noblemen travelling for their pleasure. On! on! seize them, my men! treat them with no ceremony.”
Mynheer Bunckum, though he shouted, did not move himself, and his followers appeared to hesitate for a few moments. This gave time to the Count and Baron to retreat behind the summer-house.
“Come along, Count, we must trust to our legs to escape from these fellows,” cried the Baron, and he set off running as fast as he could go.
“Stop! stop!” cried the Count. “You will be seen to a certainty and overtaken; come in here, I perceive an opening, and we shall be able to lie hid, while our jealous rival passes by.”
The Baron, however, did not hear him, but still rushed on.
“I shall be seen if I attempt to run,” thought the Count. Without more ado he slipped through an opening in the side of the wall, in his hurry forgetting to feel his way. He had made but a few steps when, to his dismay, he found himself descending, and fully believed that he was about to be precipitated down a well. Greatly to his relief he reached the bottom sooner than he had expected.
“Here, at all events, I shall be secure while our jealous rival and his men are hunting about for me; but I am afraid the Baron has very little chance of escaping. I might have got into rather a pleasanter place; it is somewhat damp; I hear the frogs croaking, and feel the slippery efts and other creatures crawling about. I only hope that there are no venomous snakes; but, by the by, how am I ever to get out again? We should have acted more wisely had we walked up boldly to Mynheer Bunckum, and apologising for having entered his grounds, wished him good morning. It is entirely owing to the Baron’s cowardice that I am placed in this very unpleasant position.”
Such were the thoughts which passed through the Count’s mind, for he did not speak them aloud. He heard the voices of Mynheer Bunckum and his men, as they searched round and round the building, but none of them looked into the well, or if they did, failed to discover him. At length, to his great relief, their voices grew less and less distinct, and he was satisfied that they were moving on.
“At all events this delay will have enabled the Baron to make his escape, and I hope that by and by, when these people have given up the search, I shall be able to rejoin him,” he thought.
Meantime the Baron had continued his course. Not being much accustomed to running, he soon began to puff and blow, and wish that he could find some place in which to hide himself, and recover his wind. Instead of taking the direct path along which he and the Count had come, rightly suspecting that if he did so he should quickly be observed, he turned aside to a wilder part of the wood; he stopped every now and then to try and recover his breath, and to ascertain if the Count was following. Having no landmark to direct him, he completely lost himself, and became very uncertain whether he was making his way out of the wood, or only getting further into it.
“It was very selfish and unmannerly in Count Funnibos not to accompany me,” he said to himself. “We might have helped each other out of this difficulty; and, indeed, at any moment Mynheer Bunckum and his myrmidons may overtake me, and in the vicious mood they are in, I do not know how I shall be treated. Ah! there I see a large hollow tree. Yes, there is an opening at the bottom, I will creep in and try to conceal myself within the stem till the hue and cry is over.”
Suiting the action to the word, the Baron knelt down, and was about to crawl into the opening when he saw a movement of the bushes at a little distance off, and presently a head popped up above them.
“I hope that I was not observed,” he thought, and he quickly crawled in at the hole, unfortunately, as he did so, knocking off his hat, which rolled away on one side; he dared not crawl out again to look for it, and could only hope that it would be concealed by the tall grass and underwood which grew around. The Baron stood trembling and quaking in his boots, every moment expecting to be discovered,while he felt sure that the face of which he had caught a glimpse was no other than that of the jealous rival.
He listened anxiously; he could hear the cracking of the boughs, and then the sound of footsteps approaching. Nearer and nearer drew the footsteps; presently he heard an exclamation of surprise.
“Why, this is the hat of one of them,” said a voice.
“Yes; it is that of the fat, ridiculous little man who pretended to be a Baron,” answered a female voice.
Was it possible? Yes, the Baron felt sure that the voice was that of the fair Vrouw Margaret on whom he had placed his affections.
“Little doubt whose hat it is,” observed the first speaker. “Very likely his pockets are even now full of your father’s and Mynheer Baskerville’s plate. What shall we do with him if we catch him?”
“I must leave him to your tender mercies,” said Vrouw Margaret. “As he deceived us so grossly I cannot plead for him. Punish him as you think fit, and then let him go, if he will promise not to come near our house again.”
“We have not caught him yet, though,” observed Mynheer Bunckum. “But here come my men, and we’ll make a thorough search in the neighbourhood.”
The Baron at this trembled more and more; while Mynheer Bunckum and Vrouw Margaret were speaking he heard several other persons approaching, who had, he judged by the remarks they let fall, been searching in vain for the Count. No one seemed to remark the hole in the tree; indeed, probably judging by the Baron’s figure, they did not suppose that he could have crawled into it.
“The chances are the two went off together,” remarked one of the keepers, “and by this time they are well out of the park.”
“But what about this head-piece?” said Mynheer Bunckum, holding up the Baron’s hat.
“He may have dropped it in his flight,” said the keeper.
“If that is the case, we ought to be still pursuing them,” said Mynheer Bunckum. “On, my men, and bring them back to me dead or alive! Come, Vrouw Margaret, we will continue our ramble; really, it is scarcely worth while to take so much trouble about the capture of these contemptible people, were it not to recover your father’s and Mynheer Baskerville’s plate.”
They had gone but a short distance when they observed one of the keepers returning.
“I must hurry on the others,” said Mynheer Bunckum. “Stay but a moment, my fair Vrouw, and I will return to you,” he said, and hastened away.
Just then a shout fell on the ear of Vrouw Margaret, and she made her way in the direction from which it proceeded, when looking over the bushes she caught sight of the keeper dragging on the unfortunate Baron by the collar of his coat. The keeper was a knowing fellow, a strong, sturdy Frieslander. Suddenly it struck him that the Baron, in spite of his rotund figure, might have crept into the hole at the bottom of the old oak; and as the Baron’s hat had been found near it, he divined, and truly, that it had been knocked off while the Baron was creeping in. He accordingly had gone back for the purpose of ascertaining whether his suspicions were correct. Putting in his hand, he felt one leg, then he felt another. The Baron in vain tried to draw them up out of the way; the sturdy Frieslander hauled and hauled much in the same way as he would have pulled a snake out of its hole, and dragged the hapless Baron out of the hollow tree.
“I have got you, Mynheer, have I?” he said, looking at the Baron’s pale countenance. “Why did you hide? Honest men do not try to conceal themselves. Come along, and answer for yourself to Mynheer Bunckum, and tell us what has become of your companion.”
The Baron was too much alarmed to reply or to offer any resistance; indeed, in the grasp of the sturdy Frieslander it would have been useless, so like a lamb he accompanied his captor. Suddenly, however, he saw a fair face looking over the bushes—it was that of the Vrouw Margaret. The sight aroused all the manhood within him; he knew himself to be innocent, he knew that the treatment he was receiving was owing to the ill-feeling of a jealous rival. He determined to show that he would not submit tamely to be ill-treated, and suddenly starting forward he endeavoured to free himself from the grasp of his captor. A fatal resolution—the Frieslander in a moment tripped up his heels, and down he fell with his face on the ground, while the Frieslander knelt over him exclaiming—
“You will escape me, will you! you are mistaken, Mynheer;” and, his anger aroused, seizing the Baron by the hair, he rubbed his face in the muddy ground.
In vain the Baron tried to free himself, in vain he tried to cry out; the moment he opened his mouth, down went his face again into the mud till he was well-nigh suffocated.
“Will not you, Vrouw Margaret, have pity on me? Will you not interfere to save me from this cruel indignity?” he exclaimed, but the Vrouw Margaret calmly watched the proceedings of the sturdy Frieslander as if she highly approved of them.
“Will you go along quietly?” asked the Frieslander, after he had subjected the Baron for some minutes to this disagreeable treatment. “Say ‘yes,’ or ‘no;’ for, if you say ‘no,’ be prepared for another mouthful of mud.”
“Yes, yes; I will go!” cried the Baron, the conduct of the fair Vrouw cutting him to the heart.
“Well, then, I will let you get up; but remember, the instant you attempt to release yourself, down you go again, and perhaps in a less pleasant place than the last.” Saying this the sturdy Frieslander placed the Baron on his legs.
“Come, you must wash the mud off your face in yonder pool,” said the Frieslander, “for you look more ridiculous than you can well imagine.”
The Baron accepted his captor’s offer, for not only his mouth and nostrils, but his very eyes were filled with mud.
“Come, you look a little less ridiculous now,” said the Frieslander with a taunting laugh, as he led the Baron past the spot where, Vrouw Margaret was standing. In vain the Baron stretched out his hands and entreated her to plead for him, but she turned aside her head, and his captor dragged him along till they met Mynheer Bunckum and the rest of his men.
“I have got one of them!” cried the Frieslander. “What is to be done with him? I have not yet examined his pockets, so cannot say whether the stolen plate is in them.”
“We will soon ascertain that,” said Mynheer Bunckum.
The unfortunate Baron Stilkin was subjected to the indignity of being searched. Only such ordinary things as a gentleman carries about with him were discovered in the Baron’s pockets, but certainly no silver forks or spoons.
“And where is your companion?” asked Mynheer Bunckum in an authoritative tone.
“I know no more than the man in the moon. I parted from him when we read the notice that trespassers on this estate would be prosecuted; till then we did not know that we were trespassing, but on discovering that such was the case, we were retiring when, your shouts alarming us, we proceeded farther than we should otherwise have done.”
“Then you say you know nothing about the so-called Count Funnibos?”
“I know nothing about the real Count Funnibos, for real he is, as I am a real Baron!” cried the ill-treated noble, his spirits rising once more. “I conclude that he is by this time out of these grounds, and on his way to the inn where we are residing; and I must beg you to understand, Mynheer, that we shall forthwith proceed to the Hague, and lay a formal complaint before our Ambassador of the way in which we distinguished foreigners have been treated.”
“I will take the consequences,” answered Mynheer Bunckum; and turning to his servants, he said, “We have no evidence against the man; conduct him to the confines of the estate, and with such kicks as you feel disposed to bestow, let him go his way.”
“I protest, I loudly protest against this treatment!” cried the Baron.
But the sturdy Frieslander with his companions, utterly regardless of all the Baron could say, dragged him along till they reached the outskirts of the estate, when, placing him before them, they bade him run for his life, which to the best of his power he endeavoured to do to save himself from the kicks they had threatened to bestow. On he ran, not once looking behind him, followed by the derisive laughter of the sturdy Frieslander and his companions.
Chapter Fourteen.Mynheer Bunckum’s head butler or steward, a person who was looked upon with great respect on account of the embroidered coat he wore, was passing, shortly after the events narrated in our last chapter, the ruined building in which the Count, unable to release himself, still lay concealed, when a groan reached his ear. Not being a believer in ghosts or goblins, on hearing it he exclaimed, “Oh, oh! that’s a human voice; somebody must have tumbled down the well. Whoever that somebody is, I will get him out; but how that is to be done is the question.” He hunted about till he discovered a hay-rake with a long handle. “This will serve me as a fishing-rod, and I should notbe surprised to find a fish at the end of it.” The steward accordingly went to an opening in the wall just above the well; he plunged down the rake and quickly brought it up without anything at the end. “I must try again,” he said, and he passed it round the wall. “I have got something now,” he exclaimed, and he began to haul away. “A heavy fish at all events,” he cried out. Though a muscular man, as most Frieslanders are, he had a hard job to haul up the rake. At last, stooping down, his hand came in contact with the collar of a man’s coat. He hauled and hauled away; his rake had caught in the hyacinthine locks of Count Funnibos, whose countenance of a cadaverous hue now came in sight.“Ho, ho!” cried the steward. “Who are you, may I ask?”The Count was too much exhausted and alarmed to make any answer, and even when the steward set him on his legs, he had to lean against the ivied wall to support himself.“You are the person, I have a notion, who has been giving us all this trouble,” said the steward, looking the Count in the face. “If so, come along with me, and my master, Mynheer Bunckum, will know what to say to you.”“I had no intention of giving you or any one else any trouble,” answered the Count, when he at last found words to express himself. “I am much obliged to you for pulling me out of that dreadful hole, and shall be still further obliged if you will brush my clothes, and then conduct me through these grounds so that I may return to my hotel, which I am anxious to reach this evening.”The steward on hearing this, instead of acceding to the Count’s request, burst into a loud fit of laughter.“Ho, ho, ho! Very likely indeed,” he answered. “You must come along with me into the presence of Mynheer Bunckum, and he will settle how to dispose of you.”“But I have no wish to see Mynheer Bunckum,” said the Count; “indeed, I have a decided objection to do so. He has allowed the most unjust suspicions to take possession of his mind.”“I care not a pin for your objections,” said the steward. “Come along with me, I can waste no further time: come along, I say;” and the steward laying hold of the Count by one arm, and the collar of his coat with the other hand, walked him along the path towards the castle in the fashion policemen are wont to treat offenders in the streets of London. The Count was too weak from hunger, alarm, and fatigue to offer any resistance, and allowed himself to be conducted in the direction the steward chose to go. They soon reached the castle; the steward, on inquiring for Mynheer Bunckum, was informed that he had gone out with the fair daughters of Mynheer Van Arent.“Then there is but one thing to be done,” observed the steward. “We must lock up this stranger in the dungeon till our master returns. Where are the keys?” They were quickly brought to him, and aided by the domestics of the establishment, he led the Count down a flight of stone steps to the dungeon.“My friend,” said the Count, who was beginning to recover, “this is very extraordinary treatment, but I presume you are acting under orders. I have a request to make. I am very hungry, and shall feel grateful if you will bring me some food; and, as I scarcely know otherwise how to pass the period of my incarceration, I shall be still further obliged if you will supply me with a violin, should you have such an instrument in the castle.”“Ho, ho, ho!” laughed the steward. “Then you are a strolling musician, as we have heard it reported. Well, we happen to have a violin, for I play it myself, and you shall be supplied with food, as I conclude Mynheer Bunckum would not wish to starve you to death.”“Thank you, my good friend, I am much obliged to you for your promise; at the same time, I beg leave to remark that I am not a strolling musician, but am as I represent myself, Count Funnibos.”“That is neither here nor there,” said the steward, “you shall have the food and you shall have the violin; now please go down those steps, and make yourself as much at home as you like.”Finding resistance useless, the Count descended the steps into a large vaulted chamber, which appeared from the contents on which the light fell through the open door, to be used as a lumber-room or store-room rather than as a prison.“Is this a fit place in which to thrust a gentleman?” said the Count, feeling his dignity considerably hurt. “Had it been a dungeon, with chains and bolts and bars, it would have been only such as many an unfortunate nobleman has been compelled to inhabit. But to be treated as if I were a piece of lumber is unbearable.”“We have no such refined opinions in this country, Mynheer,” said the steward, with a grin on his countenance. “But make yourself happy, there is a chest for you to sit on and another on which your supper shall be placed. As to your bed and bedding we will see about that by-and-by, and the violin you ask for shall be brought forthwith. Perhaps in return you will favour me with a tune, as I am a lover of music, and shall be pleased to hear you play.”The Count, who, though not very wise in all matters, made the best of everything, sat himself down on the chest with folded arms to consider how, under the disagreeable circumstances in which he was placed, it would be best to act. “One thing is very clear, that Mynheer Bunckum has got the upper hand of me. The best thing I can do as soon as I obtain my liberty is to take my departure. The fair Isabelle may or may not care a stiver for me, and if she does not I must wish her farewell and try to forget her charms.”Just as he had arrived at this wise resolution the door opened, and the steward reappeared with a violin in his hand, followed by a servant bringing a very respectable supper.“Thank you, my friend, thank you,” said the Count, getting up; “I should be happy to show you my gratitude at once by playing a tune, but I think that I shall play with more spirit after I have partaken of this food, for, as you may suppose, I am pretty well starved.”“I shall be happy to await your pleasure,” said the steward, who was struck by the Count’s polite manner, and lifting up the dish-covers he helped him liberally to the contents of the dishes. The Count, considering all things, did ample justice to the meal set before him, as well as to a bottle of Rhenish wine.“I might have been worse off,” he observed, greatly revived. “And now you shall have a tune.”Whereon, taking the fiddle and screwing up the keys, he began to play in a way which astonished the Friesian steward.“Really, you are a master of the art, Mynheer,” he observed. “Such notes have never before proceeded from that violin.”“I am happy to please you,” answered the Count, “And now I must beg you, as soon as your master returns, to request that he will either set me at liberty and have me conveyed safely back to my hotel, or else give me better accommodation than this vault offers for the night.”The steward faithfully promised to carry out the Count’s wishes, and, observing that he had duties to attend to, took his leave. The Count then, resuming his violin, once more began to play; the tunes he chose were such as especially suited his presentfeelings; they were of a gentle, pathetic character, often mournful and touching. He played on and on. Little was he aware who was listening to them. Could he have looked through the thick walls of his dungeon, he would have beheld a female form, her handkerchief to her eyes, leaning on the parapet of a terrace which ran along one of its sides. The lady whose tender feelings he had excited was no other than Isabelle Van Arent, who, with her sister and father and mother, had come that afternoon to pay a visit to Mynheer Bunckum. At length the Count ceased playing, and the lady tore herself away from the spot to rejoin her family, to whom she could not refrain from speaking of the pathetic music to which she had been listening.“Oh, that must have been my steward, Hans Gingel. I know he plays the fiddle,” observed Mynheer Bunckum, “and he sometimes goes to some out-of-the-way corner that he may not disturb the rest of the household, who are not generally inclined to be enraptured by his music.”“But he must, I assure you, be a very good player,” urged the fair Isabelle.“I dare say he can manage to produce a few good notes sometimes,” said Mynheer Bunckum, in a careless tone. “Probably distance lent enchantment to the sound. I will not advise you to allow him to play very near at hand.”Vrouw Isabelle looked puzzled, and began to fancy that her ears had deceived her; at all events, the Count had not obtained the advocate he might have gained, had she known who was the hidden musician to whom she had been listening. Mynheer Bunckum waited till his guests were gone, when he summoned his steward, Hans Gingel. “Has anything been heard of the other stranger?” he asked.“I have him safe enough in the dungeon,” answered the steward. “He is not a bad fellow after all, as he takes the way he has been treated with wonderful good humour.” And the steward described the mode in which he had hauled the Count out of the well. “He is a rare player, too, on the violin, and I lent him mine to amuse himself with.”“Then it was not your music with which Vrouw Isabelle was so delighted just now,” observed Mynheer Bunckum.“No, no, no!” answered the steward laughing, “my strains are not calculated to draw tears from a lady’s eyes; to tell you the truth, Mynheer, I believe he is a Count after all.”“His playing only agrees with the story of his being a travelling musician,” observed Mynheer Bunckum.“But travelling musicians are not as polite and well-mannered as our prisoner,” said the steward. “I know a gentleman when I meet him.”“But supposing he is a real Count, and the other fellow who was so unceremoniously kicked out of the place is a Baron, I may be somewhat in a scrape,” said Mynheer Bunckum.“I will enable you to get out of it, then,” said Hans Gingel. “Let me visit the prisoner, and propose to him to make his escape. He has really won my regard, and I should be glad, were it not displeasing to you, to set him at liberty. He will only be too happy, I suspect, to get away, and will probably not trouble you, or the family of Mynheer Van Arent, any longer by his presence.”“But I accused him and his companion of stealing the plate at the picnic, and I certainly do not know who else could have taken it,” said Mynheer Bunckum.“As to that, I am sure he is incapable of such an act, and he would not associate with any person who was. I am, therefore, of opinion that neither he nor the Baron stole the plate; indeed, one of the men on board the yacht told me that he observed a boat with several boys approach the shore during the picnic, and that they climbed up the bank, as he supposed, to amuse themselves by watching what was going forward, or to obtain a few cakes or sweetmeats which any of the party might be disposed to give them. Now, since the plate is missing, it is much more than probable that those young monkeys took it, and, if search is made in the village, probably it will be found that they were the thieves.”“That alters the whole complexion of affairs,” observed Mynheer Bunckum. “I am satisfied that the Baron, if such he is, will not become my rival, and Vrouw Isabelle is free to choose whom she will; therefore by all means set the Count at liberty as you propose, only don’t let him know that I am aware of what you are doing, and advise him and his companion to take their departure from this part of the country as soon as possible.”“I will carry out your orders, Mynheer,” was the answer. The steward waited, however, till night closed in, when, with a lantern in hand, he repaired to the dungeon.“Count Funnibos,” he said, “for such I believe you truly are, your music, and your manners, and your gentle behaviour have completely won my heart; and as I took you prisoner under what, you will allow, were somewhat suspicious circumstances, I must give myself the privilege of setting you free; and if you will consent to leave as I advise, you may do so without difficulty or danger, and by to-morrow morning be far beyond the reach of those whom you may look upon as enemies.”The Count thought for some moments before he replied. He recollected that he had been unjustly imprisoned, accused of robbery, and insulted by the lord of the mansion; but it would save a vast deal of trouble to himself and everybody else if he were to go away and let the matter drop. He quickly, therefore, decided on the latter course.“I accept your offer, my friend,” he answered. “When shall we set out?”“I would advise you, Count, to wait for some hours, till everyone is in bed, and there is no risk of your being discovered and followed. I will then come for you, and conduct you down to the river, where you will find numerous boats in which you can cross the Meer, and soon make your way to the seaboard; and thence either proceed to Amsterdam by water, or go across the Zuyder Zee to Hoorn, or any other place on its shore.”“Your plan just suits my fancy,” said the Count. “But my friend and companion, Baron Stilkin, what will become of him?”“You can write and tell him to join you at whatever place you may happen to reach,” said Hans Gingel. “It would cause considerable delay were you to go back to your inn.”The Count thought the matter over, and reflected that it would be very pleasant to enjoy a few days of independent action.“I have an idea,” he said to the steward. “I will write a note to Baron Stilkin desiring him to return to Amsterdam, and to wait for me there, if you will undertake to have it delivered.”“Very gladly, Mynheer,” answered Hans Gingel. “I will get you paper and pens. Now, if you can rest in tolerable comfort propped up between these chests, I will come for you at the hour named, and as you may grow hungry, bring you some more food to stay your appetite.” The note to the Baron was written, the Count discussed the second supper, and, having recovered from his fatigue, was perfectly ready, when the steward appeared, to make his escape from the castle.“Tread softly,” said the steward, as he led the way up the steps. “It is important not to awaken Mynheer Bunckum or any of the servants. I have shut up the dogs, so that they will not bark unless they hear a noise.”Cautiously they proceeded, the steward holding a lantern and the Count following close at his heels. They were soon out of the dungeon, when the steward, turning to the right, led the way along a narrow passage which conducted them to the opposite side of the building. The steward then, producing a key from his pocket, opened a door, the lock gliding back smoothly as if it had been well oiled, they passed on, and the Count found himself in the open air.“We are now outside the castle,” whispered the steward; “but should Mynheer Bunckum look out of his window he might perhaps fancy that we are thieves, and fire off his blunderbuss at our heads; so be cautious, and do not speak above a whisper till we get to a distance.”“I am afraid that I shall not be able to find my way in the dark,” whispered the Count.“Do not be anxious on that subject,” answered the steward. “I intend to accompany you till day breaks, and see you safe on the high road.” They walked on and on till day began to dawn. The fresh morning air revived the Count’s spirits, and he was more than ever satisfied with himself at the thoughts of starting on an independent tour without the company of the Baron.“I will buy a gun, and a knapsack, and a telescope, and a shooting-dress, and will trudge across the country, living on the produce of the chase. I saw a vast number of birds as we came along on the canals and borders of the Meers, and I shall have no lack of sport. Such a life suits my present mood.”“A very excellent plan,” observed the steward; “but I would advise you to employ some more rapid means of locomotion than your own legs afford till you get to a distance from this. Mynheer Bunckum may be wandering about in the Neighbourhood, and should he fall in with you the consequences may be disagreeable.”“I will take your advice, my friend,” said the Count; “but I must first procure the gun and the telescope, the knapsack and the shooting-dress.”“Certainly, and I shall be happy to assist you in that object. We can at once proceed to Sneek, which being one of the chief places of the province of Friesland, everything you require can be procured.”“I am overwhelmed by your kindness, and I accept your offer,” said the Count. And they proceeded on their way, having stopped to breakfast at a house of a friend of the steward.They reached Sneek about noon. The articles the Count required were speedily procured.“And now farewell, my friend,” he said, taking the steward’s hand. “We are brothers of the bow, and I look upon you as a friend who has rendered me an essential service, although you did haul me out of the well in a somewhat rough fashion.”The steward made an appropriate answer, and they parted—he to return to Bunckum Castle, the Count to proceed to the southward.
Mynheer Bunckum’s head butler or steward, a person who was looked upon with great respect on account of the embroidered coat he wore, was passing, shortly after the events narrated in our last chapter, the ruined building in which the Count, unable to release himself, still lay concealed, when a groan reached his ear. Not being a believer in ghosts or goblins, on hearing it he exclaimed, “Oh, oh! that’s a human voice; somebody must have tumbled down the well. Whoever that somebody is, I will get him out; but how that is to be done is the question.” He hunted about till he discovered a hay-rake with a long handle. “This will serve me as a fishing-rod, and I should notbe surprised to find a fish at the end of it.” The steward accordingly went to an opening in the wall just above the well; he plunged down the rake and quickly brought it up without anything at the end. “I must try again,” he said, and he passed it round the wall. “I have got something now,” he exclaimed, and he began to haul away. “A heavy fish at all events,” he cried out. Though a muscular man, as most Frieslanders are, he had a hard job to haul up the rake. At last, stooping down, his hand came in contact with the collar of a man’s coat. He hauled and hauled away; his rake had caught in the hyacinthine locks of Count Funnibos, whose countenance of a cadaverous hue now came in sight.
“Ho, ho!” cried the steward. “Who are you, may I ask?”
The Count was too much exhausted and alarmed to make any answer, and even when the steward set him on his legs, he had to lean against the ivied wall to support himself.
“You are the person, I have a notion, who has been giving us all this trouble,” said the steward, looking the Count in the face. “If so, come along with me, and my master, Mynheer Bunckum, will know what to say to you.”
“I had no intention of giving you or any one else any trouble,” answered the Count, when he at last found words to express himself. “I am much obliged to you for pulling me out of that dreadful hole, and shall be still further obliged if you will brush my clothes, and then conduct me through these grounds so that I may return to my hotel, which I am anxious to reach this evening.”
The steward on hearing this, instead of acceding to the Count’s request, burst into a loud fit of laughter.
“Ho, ho, ho! Very likely indeed,” he answered. “You must come along with me into the presence of Mynheer Bunckum, and he will settle how to dispose of you.”
“But I have no wish to see Mynheer Bunckum,” said the Count; “indeed, I have a decided objection to do so. He has allowed the most unjust suspicions to take possession of his mind.”
“I care not a pin for your objections,” said the steward. “Come along with me, I can waste no further time: come along, I say;” and the steward laying hold of the Count by one arm, and the collar of his coat with the other hand, walked him along the path towards the castle in the fashion policemen are wont to treat offenders in the streets of London. The Count was too weak from hunger, alarm, and fatigue to offer any resistance, and allowed himself to be conducted in the direction the steward chose to go. They soon reached the castle; the steward, on inquiring for Mynheer Bunckum, was informed that he had gone out with the fair daughters of Mynheer Van Arent.
“Then there is but one thing to be done,” observed the steward. “We must lock up this stranger in the dungeon till our master returns. Where are the keys?” They were quickly brought to him, and aided by the domestics of the establishment, he led the Count down a flight of stone steps to the dungeon.
“My friend,” said the Count, who was beginning to recover, “this is very extraordinary treatment, but I presume you are acting under orders. I have a request to make. I am very hungry, and shall feel grateful if you will bring me some food; and, as I scarcely know otherwise how to pass the period of my incarceration, I shall be still further obliged if you will supply me with a violin, should you have such an instrument in the castle.”
“Ho, ho, ho!” laughed the steward. “Then you are a strolling musician, as we have heard it reported. Well, we happen to have a violin, for I play it myself, and you shall be supplied with food, as I conclude Mynheer Bunckum would not wish to starve you to death.”
“Thank you, my good friend, I am much obliged to you for your promise; at the same time, I beg leave to remark that I am not a strolling musician, but am as I represent myself, Count Funnibos.”
“That is neither here nor there,” said the steward, “you shall have the food and you shall have the violin; now please go down those steps, and make yourself as much at home as you like.”
Finding resistance useless, the Count descended the steps into a large vaulted chamber, which appeared from the contents on which the light fell through the open door, to be used as a lumber-room or store-room rather than as a prison.
“Is this a fit place in which to thrust a gentleman?” said the Count, feeling his dignity considerably hurt. “Had it been a dungeon, with chains and bolts and bars, it would have been only such as many an unfortunate nobleman has been compelled to inhabit. But to be treated as if I were a piece of lumber is unbearable.”
“We have no such refined opinions in this country, Mynheer,” said the steward, with a grin on his countenance. “But make yourself happy, there is a chest for you to sit on and another on which your supper shall be placed. As to your bed and bedding we will see about that by-and-by, and the violin you ask for shall be brought forthwith. Perhaps in return you will favour me with a tune, as I am a lover of music, and shall be pleased to hear you play.”
The Count, who, though not very wise in all matters, made the best of everything, sat himself down on the chest with folded arms to consider how, under the disagreeable circumstances in which he was placed, it would be best to act. “One thing is very clear, that Mynheer Bunckum has got the upper hand of me. The best thing I can do as soon as I obtain my liberty is to take my departure. The fair Isabelle may or may not care a stiver for me, and if she does not I must wish her farewell and try to forget her charms.”
Just as he had arrived at this wise resolution the door opened, and the steward reappeared with a violin in his hand, followed by a servant bringing a very respectable supper.
“Thank you, my friend, thank you,” said the Count, getting up; “I should be happy to show you my gratitude at once by playing a tune, but I think that I shall play with more spirit after I have partaken of this food, for, as you may suppose, I am pretty well starved.”
“I shall be happy to await your pleasure,” said the steward, who was struck by the Count’s polite manner, and lifting up the dish-covers he helped him liberally to the contents of the dishes. The Count, considering all things, did ample justice to the meal set before him, as well as to a bottle of Rhenish wine.
“I might have been worse off,” he observed, greatly revived. “And now you shall have a tune.”
Whereon, taking the fiddle and screwing up the keys, he began to play in a way which astonished the Friesian steward.
“Really, you are a master of the art, Mynheer,” he observed. “Such notes have never before proceeded from that violin.”
“I am happy to please you,” answered the Count, “And now I must beg you, as soon as your master returns, to request that he will either set me at liberty and have me conveyed safely back to my hotel, or else give me better accommodation than this vault offers for the night.”
The steward faithfully promised to carry out the Count’s wishes, and, observing that he had duties to attend to, took his leave. The Count then, resuming his violin, once more began to play; the tunes he chose were such as especially suited his presentfeelings; they were of a gentle, pathetic character, often mournful and touching. He played on and on. Little was he aware who was listening to them. Could he have looked through the thick walls of his dungeon, he would have beheld a female form, her handkerchief to her eyes, leaning on the parapet of a terrace which ran along one of its sides. The lady whose tender feelings he had excited was no other than Isabelle Van Arent, who, with her sister and father and mother, had come that afternoon to pay a visit to Mynheer Bunckum. At length the Count ceased playing, and the lady tore herself away from the spot to rejoin her family, to whom she could not refrain from speaking of the pathetic music to which she had been listening.
“Oh, that must have been my steward, Hans Gingel. I know he plays the fiddle,” observed Mynheer Bunckum, “and he sometimes goes to some out-of-the-way corner that he may not disturb the rest of the household, who are not generally inclined to be enraptured by his music.”
“But he must, I assure you, be a very good player,” urged the fair Isabelle.
“I dare say he can manage to produce a few good notes sometimes,” said Mynheer Bunckum, in a careless tone. “Probably distance lent enchantment to the sound. I will not advise you to allow him to play very near at hand.”
Vrouw Isabelle looked puzzled, and began to fancy that her ears had deceived her; at all events, the Count had not obtained the advocate he might have gained, had she known who was the hidden musician to whom she had been listening. Mynheer Bunckum waited till his guests were gone, when he summoned his steward, Hans Gingel. “Has anything been heard of the other stranger?” he asked.
“I have him safe enough in the dungeon,” answered the steward. “He is not a bad fellow after all, as he takes the way he has been treated with wonderful good humour.” And the steward described the mode in which he had hauled the Count out of the well. “He is a rare player, too, on the violin, and I lent him mine to amuse himself with.”
“Then it was not your music with which Vrouw Isabelle was so delighted just now,” observed Mynheer Bunckum.
“No, no, no!” answered the steward laughing, “my strains are not calculated to draw tears from a lady’s eyes; to tell you the truth, Mynheer, I believe he is a Count after all.”
“His playing only agrees with the story of his being a travelling musician,” observed Mynheer Bunckum.
“But travelling musicians are not as polite and well-mannered as our prisoner,” said the steward. “I know a gentleman when I meet him.”
“But supposing he is a real Count, and the other fellow who was so unceremoniously kicked out of the place is a Baron, I may be somewhat in a scrape,” said Mynheer Bunckum.
“I will enable you to get out of it, then,” said Hans Gingel. “Let me visit the prisoner, and propose to him to make his escape. He has really won my regard, and I should be glad, were it not displeasing to you, to set him at liberty. He will only be too happy, I suspect, to get away, and will probably not trouble you, or the family of Mynheer Van Arent, any longer by his presence.”
“But I accused him and his companion of stealing the plate at the picnic, and I certainly do not know who else could have taken it,” said Mynheer Bunckum.
“As to that, I am sure he is incapable of such an act, and he would not associate with any person who was. I am, therefore, of opinion that neither he nor the Baron stole the plate; indeed, one of the men on board the yacht told me that he observed a boat with several boys approach the shore during the picnic, and that they climbed up the bank, as he supposed, to amuse themselves by watching what was going forward, or to obtain a few cakes or sweetmeats which any of the party might be disposed to give them. Now, since the plate is missing, it is much more than probable that those young monkeys took it, and, if search is made in the village, probably it will be found that they were the thieves.”
“That alters the whole complexion of affairs,” observed Mynheer Bunckum. “I am satisfied that the Baron, if such he is, will not become my rival, and Vrouw Isabelle is free to choose whom she will; therefore by all means set the Count at liberty as you propose, only don’t let him know that I am aware of what you are doing, and advise him and his companion to take their departure from this part of the country as soon as possible.”
“I will carry out your orders, Mynheer,” was the answer. The steward waited, however, till night closed in, when, with a lantern in hand, he repaired to the dungeon.
“Count Funnibos,” he said, “for such I believe you truly are, your music, and your manners, and your gentle behaviour have completely won my heart; and as I took you prisoner under what, you will allow, were somewhat suspicious circumstances, I must give myself the privilege of setting you free; and if you will consent to leave as I advise, you may do so without difficulty or danger, and by to-morrow morning be far beyond the reach of those whom you may look upon as enemies.”
The Count thought for some moments before he replied. He recollected that he had been unjustly imprisoned, accused of robbery, and insulted by the lord of the mansion; but it would save a vast deal of trouble to himself and everybody else if he were to go away and let the matter drop. He quickly, therefore, decided on the latter course.
“I accept your offer, my friend,” he answered. “When shall we set out?”
“I would advise you, Count, to wait for some hours, till everyone is in bed, and there is no risk of your being discovered and followed. I will then come for you, and conduct you down to the river, where you will find numerous boats in which you can cross the Meer, and soon make your way to the seaboard; and thence either proceed to Amsterdam by water, or go across the Zuyder Zee to Hoorn, or any other place on its shore.”
“Your plan just suits my fancy,” said the Count. “But my friend and companion, Baron Stilkin, what will become of him?”
“You can write and tell him to join you at whatever place you may happen to reach,” said Hans Gingel. “It would cause considerable delay were you to go back to your inn.”
The Count thought the matter over, and reflected that it would be very pleasant to enjoy a few days of independent action.
“I have an idea,” he said to the steward. “I will write a note to Baron Stilkin desiring him to return to Amsterdam, and to wait for me there, if you will undertake to have it delivered.”
“Very gladly, Mynheer,” answered Hans Gingel. “I will get you paper and pens. Now, if you can rest in tolerable comfort propped up between these chests, I will come for you at the hour named, and as you may grow hungry, bring you some more food to stay your appetite.” The note to the Baron was written, the Count discussed the second supper, and, having recovered from his fatigue, was perfectly ready, when the steward appeared, to make his escape from the castle.
“Tread softly,” said the steward, as he led the way up the steps. “It is important not to awaken Mynheer Bunckum or any of the servants. I have shut up the dogs, so that they will not bark unless they hear a noise.”
Cautiously they proceeded, the steward holding a lantern and the Count following close at his heels. They were soon out of the dungeon, when the steward, turning to the right, led the way along a narrow passage which conducted them to the opposite side of the building. The steward then, producing a key from his pocket, opened a door, the lock gliding back smoothly as if it had been well oiled, they passed on, and the Count found himself in the open air.
“We are now outside the castle,” whispered the steward; “but should Mynheer Bunckum look out of his window he might perhaps fancy that we are thieves, and fire off his blunderbuss at our heads; so be cautious, and do not speak above a whisper till we get to a distance.”
“I am afraid that I shall not be able to find my way in the dark,” whispered the Count.
“Do not be anxious on that subject,” answered the steward. “I intend to accompany you till day breaks, and see you safe on the high road.” They walked on and on till day began to dawn. The fresh morning air revived the Count’s spirits, and he was more than ever satisfied with himself at the thoughts of starting on an independent tour without the company of the Baron.
“I will buy a gun, and a knapsack, and a telescope, and a shooting-dress, and will trudge across the country, living on the produce of the chase. I saw a vast number of birds as we came along on the canals and borders of the Meers, and I shall have no lack of sport. Such a life suits my present mood.”
“A very excellent plan,” observed the steward; “but I would advise you to employ some more rapid means of locomotion than your own legs afford till you get to a distance from this. Mynheer Bunckum may be wandering about in the Neighbourhood, and should he fall in with you the consequences may be disagreeable.”
“I will take your advice, my friend,” said the Count; “but I must first procure the gun and the telescope, the knapsack and the shooting-dress.”
“Certainly, and I shall be happy to assist you in that object. We can at once proceed to Sneek, which being one of the chief places of the province of Friesland, everything you require can be procured.”
“I am overwhelmed by your kindness, and I accept your offer,” said the Count. And they proceeded on their way, having stopped to breakfast at a house of a friend of the steward.
They reached Sneek about noon. The articles the Count required were speedily procured.
“And now farewell, my friend,” he said, taking the steward’s hand. “We are brothers of the bow, and I look upon you as a friend who has rendered me an essential service, although you did haul me out of the well in a somewhat rough fashion.”
The steward made an appropriate answer, and they parted—he to return to Bunckum Castle, the Count to proceed to the southward.