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diff --git a/2071.txt b/2071.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d5199b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/2071.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4665 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Stories By English Authors: Germany, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Stories By English Authors: Germany + +Author: Various + +Release Date: March 25, 2006 [EBook #2071] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES BY ENGLISH AUTHORS: *** + + + + +Produced by Dagny; and John Bickers + + + + + +STORIES BY ENGLISH AUTHORS + +GERMANY AND NORTHERN EUROPE + + + + +CONTENTS + + THE BIRD ON ITS JOURNEY, Beatrice Harraden + KOOSJE: A STUDY OF DUTCH LIFE, John Strange Winter + A DOG OF FLANDERS, Ouida + MARKHEIM, R. L. Stevenson + QUEEN TITA'S WAGER, William Black + + + + +THE BIRD ON ITS JOURNEY, By Beatrice Harraden + + +It was about four in the afternoon when a young girl came into the salon +of the little hotel at C---- in Switzerland, and drew her chair up to +the fire. + +"You are soaked through," said an elderly lady, who was herself trying +to get roasted. "You ought to lose no time in changing your clothes." + +"I have not anything to change," said the young girl, laughing. "Oh, I +shall soon be dry!" + +"Have you lost all your luggage?" asked the lady, sympathetically. + +"No," said the young girl; "I had none to lose." And she smiled a little +mischievously, as though she knew by instinct that her companion's +sympathy would at once degenerate into suspicion! + +"I don't mean to say that I have not a knapsack," she added, +considerately. "I have walked a long distance--in fact, from Z----." + +"And where did you leave your companions?" asked the lady, with a touch +of forgiveness in her voice. + +"I am without companions, just as I am without luggage," laughed the +girl. + +And then she opened the piano, and struck a few notes. There was +something caressing in the way in which she touched the keys; whoever +she was, she knew how to make sweet music; sad music, too, full of that +undefinable longing, like the holding out of one's arms to one's friends +in the hopeless distance. + +The lady bending over the fire looked up at the little girl, and forgot +that she had brought neither friends nor luggage with her. She hesitated +for one moment, and then she took the childish face between her hands +and kissed it. + +"Thank you, dear, for your music," she said, gently. + +"The piano is terribly out of tune," said the little girl, suddenly; and +she ran out of the room, and came back carrying her knapsack. + +"What are you going to do?" asked her companion. + +"I am going to tune the piano," the little girl said; and she took a +tuning-hammer out of her knapsack, and began her work in real earnest. +She evidently knew what she was about, and pegged away at the notes as +though her whole life depended upon the result. + +The lady by the fire was lost in amazement. Who could she be? Without +luggage and without friends, and with a tuning-hammer! + +Meanwhile one of the gentlemen had strolled into the salon; but hearing +the sound of tuning, and being in secret possession of nerves, he fled, +saying, "The tuner, by Jove!" + +A few minutes afterward Miss Blake, whose nerves were no secret +possession, hastened into the salon, and, in her usual imperious +fashion, demanded instant silence. + +"I have just done," said the little girl. "The piano was so terribly out +of tune, I could not resist the temptation." + +Miss Blake, who never listened to what any one said, took it for granted +that the little girl was the tuner for whom M. le Proprietaire had +promised to send; and having bestowed on her a condescending nod, passed +out into the garden, where she told some of the visitors that the piano +had been tuned at last, and that the tuner was a young woman of rather +eccentric appearance. + +"Really, it is quite abominable how women thrust themselves into every +profession," she remarked, in her masculine voice. "It is so unfeminine, +so unseemly." + +There was nothing of the feminine about Miss Blake; her horse-cloth +dress, her waistcoat and high collar, and her billycock hat were of the +masculine genus; even her nerves could not be called feminine, since we +learn from two or three doctors (taken off their guard) that nerves are +neither feminine nor masculine, but common. + +"I should like to see this tuner," said one of the tennis-players, +leaning against a tree. + +"Here she comes," said Miss Blake, as the little girl was seen +sauntering into the garden. + +The men put up their eye-glasses, and saw a little lady with a childish +face and soft brown hair, of strictly feminine appearance and bearing. +The goat came toward her and began nibbling at her frock. She seemed +to understand the manner of goats, and played with him to his heart's +content. One of the tennis players, Oswald Everard by name, strolled +down to the bank where she was having her frolic. + +"Good-afternoon," he said, raising his cap. "I hope the goat is not +worrying you. Poor little fellow! this is his last day of play. He is to +be killed to-morrow for _table d'hote_." + +"What a shame!" she said. "Fancy to be killed, and then grumbled at!" + +"That is precisely what we do here," he said, laughing. "We grumble at +everything we eat. And I own to being one of the grumpiest; though the +lady in the horse-cloth dress yonder follows close upon my heels." + +"She was the lady who was annoyed at me because I tuned the piano," the +little girl said. "Still, it had to be done. It was plainly my duty. I +seemed to have come for that purpose." + +"It has been confoundedly annoying having it out of tune," he said. +"I've had to give up singing altogether. But what a strange profession +you have chosen! Very unusual, isn't it?" + +"Why, surely not," she answered, amused. "It seems to me that every +other woman has taken to it. The wonder to me is that any one ever +scores a success. Nowadays, however, no one could amass a huge fortune +out of it." + +"No one, indeed!" replied Oswald Everard, laughing. "What on earth made +you take to it?" + +"It took to me," she said simply. "It wrapped me round with enthusiasm. +I could think of nothing else. I vowed that I would rise to the top of +my profession. I worked day and night. But it means incessant toil for +years if one wants to make any headway." + +"Good gracious! I thought it was merely a matter of a few months," he +said, smiling at the little girl. + +"A few months!" she repeated, scornfully. "You are speaking the language +of an amateur. No; one has to work faithfully year after year; to grasp +the possibilities, and pass on to greater possibilities. You imagine +what it must feel like to touch the notes, and know that you are keeping +the listeners spellbound; that you are taking them into a fairy-land of +sound, where petty personality is lost in vague longing and regret." + +"I confess I had not thought of it in that way," he said, humbly. "I +have only regarded it as a necessary every-day evil; and to be quite +honest with you, I fail to see now how it can inspire enthusiasm. I wish +I could see," he added, looking up at the engaging little figure before +him. + +"Never mind," she said, laughing at his distress; "I forgive you. And, +after all, you are not the only person who looks upon it as a necessary +evil. My poor old guardian abominated it. He made many sacrifices to +come and listen to me. He knew I liked to see his kind old face, and +that the presence of a real friend inspired me with confidence." + +"I should not have thought it was nervous work," he said. + +"Try it and see," she answered. "But surely you spoke of singing. Are +you not nervous when you sing?" + +"Sometimes," he replied, rather stiffly. "But that is slightly +different." (He was very proud of his singing, and made a great fuss +about it.) "Your profession, as I remarked before, is an unavoidable +nuisance. When I think what I have suffered from the gentlemen of +your profession, I only wonder that I have any brains left. But I am +uncourteous." + +"No, no," she said; "let me hear about your sufferings." + +"Whenever I have specially wanted to be quiet," he said--and then he +glanced at her childish little face, and he hesitated. "It seems so +rude of me," he added. He was the soul of courtesy, although he was an +amateur tenor singer. + +"Please tell me," the little girl said, in her winning way. + +"Well," he said, gathering himself together, "it is the one subject on +which I can be eloquent. Ever since I can remember, I have been worried +and tortured by those rascals. I have tried in every way to escape from +them, but there is no hope for me. Yes; I believe that all the tuners in +the universe are in league against me, and have marked me out for their +special prey." + +"_All the what_?" asked the little girl, with a jerk in her voice. + +"All the tuners, of course," he replied, rather snappishly. "I know +that we cannot do without them; but good heavens! they have no tact, no +consideration, no mercy. Whenever I've wanted to write or read quietly, +that fatal knock has come at the door, and I've known by instinct that +all chance of peace was over. Whenever I've been giving a luncheon +party, the tuner has arrived, with his abominable black bag, and his +abominable card which has to be signed at once. On one occasion I was +just proposing to a girl in her father's library when the tuner struck +up in the drawing-room. I left off suddenly, and fled from the house. +But there is no escape from these fiends; I believe they are swarming +about in the air like so many bacteria. And how, in the name of +goodness, you should deliberately choose to be one of them, and should +be so enthusiastic over your work, puzzles me beyond all words. Don't +say that you carry a black bag, and present cards which have to be +filled up at the most inconvenient time; don't--" + +He stopped suddenly, for the little girl was convulsed with laughter. +She laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks, and then she dried +her eyes and laughed again. + +"Excuse me," she said; "I can't help myself; it's so funny." + +"It may be funny to you," he said, laughing in spite of himself; "but it +is not funny to me." + +"Of course it isn't," she replied, making a desperate effort to be +serious. "Well, tell me something more about these tuners." + +"Not another word," he said, gallantly. "I am ashamed of myself as it +is. Come to the end of the garden, and let me show you the view down +into the valley." + +She had conquered her fit of merriment, but her face wore a settled look +of mischief, and she was evidently the possessor of some secret joke. +She seemed in capital health and spirits, and had so much to say that +was bright and interesting that Oswald Everard found himself becoming +reconciled to the whole race of tuners. He was amazed to learn that she +had walked all the way from Z----, and quite alone, too. + +"Oh, I don't think anything of that," she said; "I had a splendid time, +and I caught four rare butterflies. I would not have missed those for +anything. As for the going about by myself, that is a second nature. +Besides, I do not belong to any one. That has its advantages, and I +suppose its disadvantages; but at present I have only discovered the +advantages. The disadvantages will discover themselves!" + +"I believe you are what the novels call an advanced young woman," he +said. "Perhaps you give lectures on woman's suffrage, or something of +that sort?" + +"I have very often mounted the platform," she answered. "In fact, I am +never so happy as when addressing an immense audience. A most unfeminine +thing to do, isn't it? What would the lady yonder in the horse-cloth +dress and billycock hat say? Don't you think you ought to go and help +her drive away the goat? She looks so frightened. She interests me +deeply. I wonder whether she has written an essay on the feminine in +woman. I should like to read it; it would do me so much good." + +"You are at least a true woman," he said, laughing, "for I see you can +be spiteful. The tuning has not driven that away." + +"Ah, I had forgotten about the tuning," she answered, brightly; "but now +you remind me, I have been seized with a great idea." + +"Won't you tell it to me?" he asked. + +"No," she answered; "I keep my great ideas for myself, and work them out +in secret. And this one is particularly amusing. What fun I shall have!" + +"But why keep the fun to yourself?" he said. "We all want to be amused +here; we all want to be stirred up; a little fun would be a charity." + +"Very well, since you wish it, you shall be stirred up," she answered; +"but you must give me time to work out my great idea. I do not hurry +about things, not even about my professional duties; for I have a +strong feeling that it is vulgar to be always amassing riches! As I have +neither a husband nor a brother to support, I have chosen less wealth, +and more leisure to enjoy all the loveliness of life! So you see I take +my time about everything. And to-morrow I shall catch butterflies at my +leisure, and lie among the dear old pines, and work at my great idea." + +"I shall catch butterflies," said her companion; "and I too shall lie +among the dear old pines." + +"Just as you please," she said; and at that moment the _table d'hote_ +bell rang. + +The little girl hastened to the bureau, and spoke rapidly in German to +the cashier. + +"_Ach, Fraulein_!" he said. "You are not really serious?" + +"Yes, I am," she said. "I don't want them to know my name. It will only +worry me. Say I am the young lady who tuned the piano." + +She had scarcely given these directions and mounted to her room when +Oswald Everard, who was much interested in his mysterious companion, +came to the bureau, and asked for the name of the little lady. + +"_Es ist das Fraulein welches das Piano gestimmt hat_," answered the +man, returning with unusual quickness to his account-book. + +No one spoke to the little girl at _table d'hote_, but for all that she +enjoyed her dinner, and gave her serious attention to all the courses. +Being thus solidly occupied, she had not much leisure to bestow on the +conversation of the other guests. Nor was it specially original; it +treated of the short-comings of the chef, the tastelessness of the +soup, the toughness of the beef, and all the many failings which go +to complete a mountain hotel dinner. But suddenly, so it seemed to the +little girl, this time-honoured talk passed into another phase; she +heard the word "music" mentioned, and she became at once interested to +learn what these people had to say on a subject which was dearer to her +than any other. + +"For my own part," said a stern-looking old man, "I have no words to +describe what a gracious comfort music has been to me all my life. It is +the noblest language which man may understand and speak. And I sometimes +think that those who know it, or know something of it, are able at rare +moments to find an answer to life's perplexing problems." + +The little girl looked up from her plate. Robert Browning's words rose +to her lips, but she did not give them utterance: + + God has a few of us whom He whispers in the ear; + The rest may reason, and welcome; 'tis we musicians know. + +"I have lived through a long life," said another elderly man, "and have +therefore had my share of trouble; but the grief of being obliged to +give up music was the grief which held me longest, or which perhaps has +never left me. I still crave for the gracious pleasure of touching once +more the strings of the violoncello, and hearing the dear, tender voice +singing and throbbing, and answering even to such poor skill as mine. +I still yearn to take my part in concerted music, and be one of those +privileged to play Beethoven's string-quartettes. But that will have to +be in another incarnation, I think." + +He glanced at his shrunken arm, and then, as though ashamed of this +allusion to his own personal infirmity, he added hastily: + +"But when the first pang of such a pain is over, there remains the +comfort of being a listener. At first one does not think it is a +comfort; but as time goes on there is no resisting its magic influence. +And Lowell said rightly that 'one of God's great charities is music.'" + +"I did not know you were musical, Mr. Keith," said an English lady. "You +have never before spoken of music." + +"Perhaps not, madam," he answered. "One does not often speak of what one +cares for most of all. But when I am in London I rarely miss hearing our +best players." + +At this point others joined in, and the various merits of eminent +pianists were warmly discussed. + +"What a wonderful name that little English lady has made for herself!" +said the major, who was considered an authority on all subjects. "I would +go anywhere to hear Miss Thyra Flowerdew. We all ought to be very proud +of her. She has taken even the German musical world by storm, and they +say her recitals at Paris have been brilliantly successful. I myself +have heard her at New York, Leipsic, London, Berlin, and even Chicago." + +The little girl stirred uneasily in her chair. + +"I don't think Miss Flowerdew has ever been to Chicago," she said. + +There was a dead silence. The admirer of Miss Thyra Flowerdew looked +much annoyed, and twiddled his watch-chain. He had meant to say +"Philadelphia," but he did not think it necessary to own to his mistake. + +"What impertinence!" said one of the ladies to Miss Blake. "What can she +know about it? Is she not the young person who tuned the piano?" + +"Perhaps she tunes Miss Thyra Flowerdew's piano!" suggested Miss Blake, +in a loud whisper. + +"You are right, madam," said the little girl, quietly. "I have often +tuned Miss Flowerdew's piano." + +There was another embarrassing silence; and then a lovely old lady, whom +every one reverenced, came to the rescue. + +"I think her playing is simply superb," she said. "Nothing that I ever +hear satisfies me so entirely. She has all the tenderness of an angel's +touch." + +"Listening to her," said the major, who had now recovered from his +annoyance at being interrupted, "one becomes unconscious of her +presence, for she _is the music itself_. And that is rare. It is but +seldom nowadays that we are allowed to forget the personality of the +player. And yet her personality is an unusual one; having once seen her, +it would not be easy to forget her. I should recognise her anywhere." + +As he spoke, he glanced at the little tuner, and could not help admiring +her dignified composure under circumstances which might have been +distressing to any one; and when she rose with the others he followed +her, and said stiffly: + +"I regret that I was the indirect cause of putting you in an awkward +position." + +"It is really of no consequence," she said, brightly. "If you think I +was impertinent, I ask your forgiveness. I did not mean to be officious. +The words were spoken before I was aware of them." + +She passed into the salon, where she found a quiet corner for herself, +and read some of the newspapers. No one took the slightest notice of +her; not a word was spoken to her; but when she relieved the company of +her presence her impertinence was commented on. + +"I am sorry that she heard what I said," remarked Miss Blake; "but she +did not seem to mind. These young women who go out into the world lose +the edge of their sensitiveness and femininity. I have always observed +that." + +"How much they are spared then!" answered some one. + +Meanwhile the little girl slept soundly. She had merry dreams, and +finally woke up laughing. She hurried over her breakfast, and then +stood ready to go for a butterfly hunt. She looked thoroughly happy, +and evidently had found, and was holding tightly, the key to life's +enjoyment. + +Oswald Everard was waiting on the balcony, and he reminded her that he +intended to go with her. + +"Come along then," she answered; "we must not lose a moment." + +They caught butterflies; they picked flowers; they ran; they lingered +by the wayside; they sang; they climbed, and he marvelled at her easy +speed. Nothing seemed to tire her, and everything seemed to delight +her--the flowers, the birds, the clouds, the grasses, and the fragrance +of the pine woods. + +"Is it not good to live?" she cried. "Is it not splendid to take in the +scented air? Draw in as many long breaths as you can. Isn't it good? +Don't you feel now as though you were ready to move mountains? I do. +What a dear old nurse Nature is! How she pets us, and gives us the best +of her treasures!" + +Her happiness invaded Oswald Everard's soul, and he felt like a +school-boy once more, rejoicing in a fine day and his liberty, with +nothing to spoil the freshness of the air, and nothing to threaten the +freedom of the moment. + +"Is it not good to live?" he cried. "Yes, indeed it is, if we know how +to enjoy." + +They had come upon some haymakers, and the little girl hastened up to +help them, laughing and talking to the women, and helping them to pile +up the hay on the shoulders of a broad-backed man, who then conveyed his +burden to a pear-shaped stack. Oswald Everard watched his companion for +a moment, and then, quite forgetting his dignity as an amateur tenor +singer, he too lent his aid, and did not leave off until his companion +sank exhausted on the ground. + +"Oh," she laughed, "what delightful work for a very short time! Come +along; let us go into that brown chatlet yonder and ask for some milk. +I am simply parched with thirst. Thank you, but I prefer to carry my own +flowers." + +"What an independent little lady you are!" he said. + +"It is quite necessary in our profession, I can assure you," she +said, with a tone of mischief in her voice. "That reminds me that my +profession is evidently not looked upon with any favour by the visitors +at the hotel. I am heartbroken to think that I have not won the esteem +of that lady in the billycock hat. What will she say to you for coming +out with me? And what will she say of me for allowing you to come? I +wonder whether she will say, 'How unfeminine!' I wish I could hear her!" + +"I don't suppose you care," he said. "You seem to be a wild little +bird." + +"I don't care what a person of that description says," replied his +companion. + +"What on earth made you contradict the major at dinner last night?" he +asked. "I was not at the table, but some one told me of the incident; +and I felt very sorry about it. What could you know of Miss Thyra +Flowerdew?" + +"Well, considering that she is in my profession, of course I know +something about her," said the little girl. + +"Confound it all!" he said, rather rudely. "Surely there is some +difference between the bellows-blower and the organist." + +"Absolutely none," she answered; "merely a variation of the original +theme!" + +As she spoke she knocked at the door of the chalet, and asked the old +dame to give them some milk. They sat in the _Stube_, and the little +girl looked about, and admired the spinning-wheel and the quaint chairs +and the queer old jugs and the pictures on the walls. + +"Ah, but you shall see the other room," the old peasant woman said; and +she led them into a small apartment which was evidently intended for a +study. It bore evidences of unusual taste and care, and one could see +that some loving hand had been trying to make it a real sanctum of +refinement. There was even a small piano. A carved book-rack was +fastened to the wall. + +The old dame did not speak at first; she gave her guests time to recover +from the astonishment which she felt they must be experiencing; then she +pointed proudly to the piano. + +"I bought that for my daughters," she said, with a strange mixture of +sadness and triumph. "I wanted to keep them at home with me, and I saved +and saved, and got enough money to buy the piano. They had always wanted +to have one, and I thought they would then stay with me. They liked +music and books, and I knew they would be glad to have a room of their +own where they might read and play and study; and so I gave them this +corner." + +"Well, mother," asked the little girl, "and where are they this +afternoon?" + +"Ah," she answered sadly, "they did not care to stay; but it was natural +enough, and I was foolish to grieve. Besides, they come to see me." + +"And then they play to you?" asked the little girl, gently. + +"They say the piano is out of tune," the old dame said. "I don't know. +Perhaps you can tell." + +The little girl sat down to the piano, and struck a few chords. + +"Yes," she said; "it is badly out of tune. Give me the tuning-hammer. I +am sorry," she added, smiling at Oswald Everard, "but I cannot neglect +my duty. Don't wait for me." + +"I will wait for you," he said, sullenly; and he went into the balcony +and smoked his pipe, and tried to possess his soul in patience. + +When she had faithfully done her work she played a few simple melodies, +such as she knew the old woman would love and understand; and she turned +away when she saw that the listener's eyes were moist. + +"Play once again," the old woman whispered. "I am dreaming of beautiful +things." + +So the little tuner touched the keys again with all the tenderness of an +angel. + +"Tell your daughters," she said, as she rose to say good-bye, "that the +piano is now in good tune. Then they will play to you the next time they +come." + +"I shall always remember you, mademoiselle," the old woman said; and, +almost unconsciously, she took the childish face and kissed it. + +Oswald Everard was waiting in the hay-field for his companion; and when +she apologised to him for this little professional intermezzo, as she +called it, he recovered from his sulkiness and readjusted his nerves, +which the noise of the tuning had somewhat disturbed. + +"It was very good of you to tune the old dame's piano," he said, looking +at her with renewed interest. + +"Some one had to do it, of course," she answered, brightly, "and I am +glad the chance fell to me. What a comfort it is to think that the next +time those daughters come to see her they will play to her and make her +very happy! Poor old dear!" + +"You puzzle me greatly," he said. "I cannot for the life of me think +what made you choose your calling. You must have many gifts; any one who +talks with you must see that at once. And you play quite nicely, too." + +"I am sorry that my profession sticks in your throat," she answered. +"Do be thankful that I am nothing worse than a tuner. For I might be +something worse--a snob, for instance." + +And, so speaking, she dashed after a butterfly, and left him to recover +from her words. He was conscious of having deserved a reproof; and +when at last he overtook her he said as much, and asked for her kind +indulgence. + +"I forgive you," she said, laughing. "You and I are not looking at +things from the same point of view; but we have had a splendid morning +together, and I have enjoyed every minute of it. And to-morrow I go on +my way." + +"And to-morrow you go," he repeated. "Can it not be the day after +to-morrow?" + +"I am a bird of passage," she said, shaking her head. "You must not seek +to detain me. I have taken my rest, and off I go to other climes." + + +They had arrived at the hotel, and Oswald Everard saw no more of his +companion until the evening, when she came down rather late for _table +d'hote_. She hurried over her dinner and went into the salon. She closed +the door, and sat down to the piano, and lingered there without touching +the keys; once or twice she raised her hands, and then she let them rest +on the notes, and, half unconsciously, they began to move and make sweet +music; and then they drifted into Schumann's "Abendlied," and then the +little girl played some of his "Kinderscenen," and some of his "Fantasie +Stucke," and some of his songs. + +Her touch and feeling were exquisite, and her phrasing betrayed the true +musician. The strains of music reached the dining-room, and, one by one, +the guests came creeping in, moved by the music and anxious to see the +musician. + +The little girl did not look up; she was in a Schumann mood that +evening, and only the players of Schumann know what enthralling +possession he takes of their very spirit. All the passion and pathos and +wildness and longing had found an inspired interpreter; and those who +listened to her were held by the magic which was her own secret, +and which had won for her such honour as comes only to the few. She +understood Schumann's music, and was at her best with him. + +Had she, perhaps, chosen to play his music this evening because she +wished to be at her best? Or was she merely being impelled by an +overwhelming force within her? Perhaps it was something of both. + +Was she wishing to humiliate these people who had received her so +coldly? This little girl was only human; perhaps there was something of +that feeling too. Who can tell? But she played as she had never played +in London, or Paris, or Berlin, or New York, or Philadelphia. + +At last she arrived at the "Carnaval," and those who heard her declared +afterward that they had never listened to a more magnificent rendering. +The tenderness was so restrained; the vigour was so refined. When +the last notes of that spirited "Marche des Davidsbundler contre les +Philistins" had died away, she glanced at Oswald Everard, who was +standing near her almost dazed. + +"And now my favourite piece of all," she said; and she at once began +the "Second Novelette," the finest of the eight, but seldom played in +public. + +What can one say of the wild rush of the leading theme, and the pathetic +longing of the intermezzo? + + . . . The murmuring dying notes, + That fall as soft as snow on the sea; + +and + + The passionate strain that, deeply going, + Refines the bosom it trembles through. + +What can one say of those vague aspirations and finest thoughts which +possess the very dullest among us when such music as that which the +little girl had chosen catches us and keeps us, if only for a passing +moment, but that moment of the rarest worth and loveliness in our +unlovely lives? + +What can one say of the highest music except that, like death, it is the +great leveller: it gathers us all to its tender keeping--and we rest. + +The little girl ceased playing. There was not a sound to be heard; +the magic was still holding her listeners. When at last they had freed +themselves with a sigh, they pressed forward to greet her. + +"There is only one person who can play like that," cried the major, with +sudden inspiration--"she is Miss Thyra Flowerdew." + +The little girl smiled. + +"That is my name," she said, simply; and she slipped out of the room. + +The next morning, at an early hour, the bird of passage took her flight +onward, but she was not destined to go off unobserved. Oswald Everard +saw the little figure swinging along the road, and she overtook her. + +"You little wild bird!" he said. "And so this was your great idea--to +have your fun out of us all, and then play to us and make us feel I +don't know how, and then to go." + +"You said the company wanted stirring up," she answered, "and I rather +fancy I have stirred them up." + +"And what do you suppose you have done for me?" he asked. + +"I hope I have proved to you that the bellows-blower and the organist +are sometimes identical," she answered. + +But he shook his head. + +"Little wild bird," he said, "you have given me a great idea, and I will +tell you what it is: _to tame you_. So good-bye for the present." + +"Good-bye," she said. "But wild birds are not so easily tamed." + +Then she waved her hand over her head, and went on her way singing. + + + + +KOOSJE: A STUDY OF DUTCH LIFE, by John Strange Winter + + +Her name was Koosje van Kampen, and she lived in Utrecht, that most +quaint of quaint cities, the Venice of the North. + +All her life had been passed under the shadow of the grand old Dom Kerk; +she had played bo-peep behind the columns and arcades of the ruined, +moss-grown cloisters; had slipped up and fallen down the steps leading +to the _grachts_; had once or twice, in this very early life, been +fished out of those same slimy, stagnant waters; had wandered under the +great lindens in the Baan, and gazed curiously up at the stork's nest +in the tree by the Veterinary School; had pattered about the +hollow-sounding streets in her noisy wooden _klompen_; had danced and +laughed, had quarrelled and wept, and fought and made friends again, +to the tune of the silver chimes high up in the Dom--chimes that were +sometimes old _Nederlandsche_ hymns, sometimes Mendelssohn's melodies +and tender "Lieder ohne Worte." + +But that was ever so long ago, and now she had left her romping +childhood behind her, and had become a maid-servant--a very dignified +and aristocratic maid-servant indeed--with no less a sum than eight +pounds ten a year in wages. + +She lived in the house of a professor, who dwelt on the Munster +Kerkhoff, one of the most aristocratic parts of that wonderfully +aristocratic city; and once or twice every week you might have seen her, +if you had been there to see, busily engaged in washing the red tile +and blue slate pathway in front of the professor's house. You would have +seen that she was very pleasant to look at, this Koosje, very comely +and clean, whether she happened to be very busy, or whether it had been +Sunday, and, with her very best gown on, she was out for a promenade in +the Baan, after duly going to service as regularly as the Sabbath dawned +in the grand old Gothic choir of the cathedral. + +During the week she wore always the same costume as does every other +servant in the country: a skirt of black stuff, short enough to show a +pair of very neat-set and well-turned ankles, clad in cloth shoes and +knitted stockings that showed no wrinkles; over the skirt a bodice and +a kirtle of lilac, made with a neatly gathered frilling about her round +brown throat; above the frilling five or six rows of unpolished garnet +beads fastened by a massive clasp of gold filigree, and on her head a +spotless white cap tied with a neat bow under her chin--as neat, let me +tell you, as an Englishman's tie at a party. + +But it was on Sunday that Koosje shone forth in all the glory of a black +gown and her jewellery--with great ear-rings to match the clasp of her +necklace, and a heavy chain and cross to match that again, and one or +two rings; while on her head she wore an immense cap, much too big to +put a bonnet over, though for walking she was most particular to have +gloves. + +Then, indeed, she was a young person to be treated with respect, and +with respect she was undoubtedly treated. As she passed along the +quaint, resounding streets, many a head was turned to look after her; +but Koosje went on her way like the staid maiden she was, duly impressed +with the fact that she was principal servant of Professor van Dijck, the +most celebrated authority on the study of osteology in Europe. So Koosje +never heeded the looks, turned her head neither to the right nor to +the left, but went sedately on her business or pleasure, whichever it +happened to be. + +It was not likely that such a treasure could remain long unnoticed and +unsought after. Servants in the Netherlands, I hear, are not so good +but that they might be better; and most people knew what a treasure +Professor van Dijck had in his Koosje. However, as the professor +conscientiously raised her wages from time to time, Koosje never thought +of leaving him. + +But there is one bribe no woman can resist--the bribe that is offered +by love. As Professor van Dijck had expected and feared, that bribe ere +long was held out to Koosje, and Koosje was too weak to resist it. Not +that he wished her to do so. If the girl had a chance of settling well +and happily for life, he would be the last to dream of throwing any +obstacle in her way. He had come to be an old man himself; he lived all +alone, save for his servants, in a great, rambling house, whose huge +apartments were all set out with horrible anatomical preparations and +grisly skeletons; and, though the stately passages were paved with white +marble, and led into rooms which would easily have accommodated crowds +of guests, he went into no society save that of savants as old and +fossil-like as himself; in other words, he was an old bachelor who lived +entirely for his profession and the study of the great masters by the +interpretation of a genuine old Stradivari. Yet the old professor had a +memory; he recalled the time when he had been young who now was old--the +time when his heart was a good deal more tender, his blood a great deal +warmer, and his fancy very much more easily stirred than nowadays. There +was a dead-and-gone romance which had broken his heart, sentimentally +speaking--a romance long since crumbled into dust, which had sent him +for comfort into the study of osteology and the music of the Stradivari; +yet the memory thereof made him considerably more lenient to Koosje's +weakness than Koosje herself had ever expected to find him. + +Not that she had intended to tell him at first; she was only three and +twenty, and, though Jan van der Welde was as fine a fellow as could be +seen in Utrecht, and had good wages and something put by, Koosje was by +no means inclined to rush headlong into matrimony with undue hurry. +It was more pleasant to live in the professor's good house, to have +delightful walks arm in arm with Jan under the trees in the Baan or +round the Singels, parting under the stars with many a lingering word +and promise to meet again. It was during one of those very partings that +the professor suddenly became aware, as he walked placidly home, of the +change that had come into Koosje's life. + +However, Koosje told him blushingly that she did not wish to leave him +just at present; so he did not trouble himself about the matter. He +was a wise man, this old authority on osteology, and quoted oftentimes, +"Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." + +So the courtship sped smoothly on, seeming for once to contradict the +truth of the old saying, "The course of true love never did run smooth." +The course of their love did, of a truth, run marvellously smooth +indeed. Koosje, if a trifle coy, was pleasant and sweet; Jan as fine a +fellow as ever waited round a corner on a cold winter night. So brightly +the happy days slipped by, when suddenly a change was effected in the +professor's household which made, as a matter of course, somewhat of a +change in Koosje's life. It came about in this wise. + +Koosje had been on an errand for the professor,--one that had kept her +out of doors some time,--and it happened that the night was bitterly +cold; the cold, indeed, was fearful. The air had that damp rawness +so noticeable in Dutch climate, a thick mist overhung the city, and +a drizzling rain came down with a steady persistence such as quickly +soaked through the stoutest and thickest garments. The streets were +well-nigh empty. The great thoroughfare, the Oude Gracht, was almost +deserted, and as Koosje hurried along the Meinerbroederstraat--for she +had a second commission there--she drew her great shawl more tightly +round her, muttering crossly, "What weather! yesterday so warm, to-day +so cold. 'Tis enough to give one the fever." + +She delivered her message, and ran on through Oude Kerkhoff as fast as +her feet could carry her, when, just as she turned the corner into the +Domplein, a fierce gust of wind, accompanied by a blinding shower of +rain, assailed her; her foot caught against something soft and heavy, +and she fell. + +"Bless us!" she ejaculated, blankly. "What fool has left a bundle out on +the path on such a night? Pitch dark, with half the lamps out, and rain +and mist enough to blind one." + +She gathered herself up, rubbing elbows and knees vigorously, casting +the while dark glances at the obnoxious bundle which had caused the +disaster. Just then the wind was lulled, the lamp close at hand gave out +a steady light, which shed its rays through the fog upon Koosje and the +bundle, from which, to the girl's horror and dismay, came a faint moan. +Quickly she drew nearer, when she perceived that what she had believed +to be a bundle was indeed a woman, apparently in the last stage of +exhaustion. + +Koosje tried to lift her; but the dead-weight was beyond her, young and +strong as she was. Then the rain and the wind came on again in fiercer +gusts than before; the woman's moans grew louder and louder, and what to +do Koosje knew not. + +She struggled on for the few steps that lay between her and the +professor's house, and then she rang a peal which resounded through the +echoing passages, bringing Dortje, the other maid, running out; after +the manner of her class, imagining all sorts of terrible catastrophes +had happened. She uttered a cry of relief when she perceived it was only +Koosje, who, without vouchsafing any explanation, dashed past her and +ran straight into the professor's room. + +"O professor!" she gasped out; but, between her efforts to remove the +woman, her struggle with the elements, and her race down the passage, +her breath was utterly gone. + +The professor looked up from his book and his tea-tray in surprise. For +a moment he thought that Koosje, his domestic treasure, had altogether +taken leave of her senses; for she was streaming with water, covered +with mud, and head and cap were in a state of disorder, such as neither +he nor any one else had ever seen them in since the last time she had +been fished out of the Nieuwe Gracht. + +"What is the matter, Koosje?" he asked, regarding her gravely over his +spectacles. + +"There's a woman outside--dying," she panted, "I fell over her." + +"You had better try to get her in then," the old gentleman said, in +quite a relieved tone. "You and Dortje must bring her in. Dear, dear, +poor soul! but it is a dreadful night." + +The old gentleman shivered as he spoke, and drew a little nearer to the +tall white porcelain stove. + +It was, as he had said a minute before, a terrible night. He could hear +the wind beating about the house and rattling about the casements and +moaning down the chimneys; and to think any poor soul should be out on +such a night, _dying_! Heaven preserve others who might be belated or +houseless in any part of the world! + +He fell into a fit of abstraction,--a habit not uncommon with learned +men,--wondering why life should be so different with different people; +why he should be in that warm, handsome room, with its soft rich +hangings and carpet, with its beautiful furniture of carved wood, its +pictures, and the rare china scattered here and there among the grim +array of skeletons which were his delight. He wondered why he should +take his tea out of costly and valuable Oriental china, sugar and cream +out of antique silver, while other poor souls had no tea at all, and +nothing to take it out of even if they had. He wondered why he +should have a lamp under his teapot that was a very marvel of art +transparencies; why he should have every luxury, and this poor creature +should be dying in the street amid the wind and the rain. It was all +very unequal. + +It was very odd, the professor argued, leaning his back against the +tall, warm stove; it was very odd indeed. He began to feel that, grand +as the study of osteology undoubtedly is, he ought not to permit it +to become so engrossing as to blind him to the study of the greater +philosophies of life. His reverie was, however, broken by the abrupt +reentrance of Koosje, who this time was a trifle less breathless than +she had been before. + +"We have got her into the kitchen, professor," she announced. "She is a +child--a mere baby, and so pretty! She has opened her eyes and spoken." + +"Give her some soup and wine--hot," said the professor, without +stirring. + +"But won't you come?" she asked. + +The professor hesitated; he hated attending in cases of illness, though +he was a properly qualified doctor and in an emergency would lay his +prejudice aside. + +"Or shall I run across for the good Dr. Smit?" Koosje asked. "He would +come in a minute, only it is _such_ a night!" + +At that moment a fiercer gust than before rattled at the casements, and +the professor laid aside his scruples. + +He followed his housekeeper down the chilly, marble-flagged passage into +the kitchen, where he never went for months together--a cosey enough, +pleasant place, with a deep valance hanging from the mantel-shelf, with +many great copper pans, bright and shining as new gold, and furniture +all scrubbed to the whiteness of snow. + +In an arm-chair before the opened stove sat the rescued girl--a slight, +golden-haired thing, with wistful blue eyes and a frightened air. Every +moment she caught her breath in a half-hysterical sob, while violent +shivers shook her from head to foot. + +The professor went and looked at her over his spectacles, as if she had +been some curious specimen of his favourite study; but at the same time +he kept at a respectful distance from her. + +"Give her some soup and wine," he said, at length, putting his hands +under the tails of his long dressing-gown of flowered cashmere. "Some +soup and wine--hot; and put her to bed." + +"Is she then to remain for the night?" Koosje asked, a little surprised. + +"Oh, don't send me away!" the golden-haired girl broke out, in a voice +that was positively a wail, and clasping a pair of pretty, slender hands +in piteous supplication. + +"Where do you come from?" the old gentleman asked, much as if he +expected she might suddenly jump up and bite him. + +"From Beijerland, mynheer," she answered, with a sob. + +"So! Koosje, she is remarkably well dressed, is she not?" the professor +said, glancing at the costly lace head-gear, the heavy gold head-piece, +which lay on the table together with the great gold spiral ornaments and +filigree pendants--a dazzling head of richness. He looked, too, at the +girl's white hands, at the rich, crape-laden gown, at their delicate +beauty, and shower of waving golden hair, which, released from the +confinement of the cap and head-piece, floated in a rich mass of +glittering beauty over the pillows which his servant had placed beneath +her head. + +The professor was old; the professor was wholly given up to his +profession, which he jokingly called his sweetheart; and, though he +cut half of his acquaintances in the street through inattention and +the shortness of his sight, he had eyes in his head, and upon occasions +could use them. He therefore repeated the question. + +"Very well dressed indeed, professor," returned Koosje, promptly. + +"And what are you doing in Utrecht--in such a plight as this, too?" he +asked, still keeping at a safe distance. + +"O mynheer, I am all alone in the world," she answered, her blue misty +eyes filled with tears. "I had a month ago a dear, good, kind father, +but he has died, and I am indeed desolate. I always believed him rich, +and to these things," with a gesture that included her dress and the +ornaments on the table, "I have ever been accustomed. Thus I ordered +without consideration such clothes as I thought needful. And then I +found there was nothing for me--not a hundred guilders to call my own +when all was paid." + +"But what brought you to Utrecht?" + +"He sent me here, mynheer. In his last illness, only of three days' +duration, he bade me gather all together and come to this city, where I +was to ask for a Mevrouw Baake, his cousin." + +"Mevrouw Baake, of the Sigaren Fabrijk," said Dortje, in an aside, to +the others. "I lived servant with her before I came here." + +"I had heard very little about her, only my father had sometimes +mentioned his cousin to me; they had once been betrothed," the stranger +continued. "But when I reached Utrecht I found she was dead--two years +dead; but we had never heard of it." + +"Dear, dear, dear!" exclaimed the professor, pityingly. "Well, you had +better let Koosje put you to bed, and we will see what can be done for +you in the morning." + +"Am I to make up a bed?" Koosje asked, following him along the passage. + +The professor wheeled round and faced her. + +"She had better sleep in the guest room," he said, thoughtfully, +regardless of the cold which struck to his slippered feet from the +marble floor. "That is the only room which does not contain specimens +that would probably frighten the poor child. I am very much afraid, +Koosje," he concluded, doubtfully, "that she is a lady; and what we are +to do with a lady I can't think." + +With that the old gentleman shuffled off to his cosey room, and Koosje +turned back to her kitchen. + +"He'll never think of marrying her," mused Koosje, rather blankly. If +she had spoken the thoughts to the professor himself, she would have +received a very emphatic assurance that, much as the study of osteology +and the Stradivari had blinded him to the affairs of this workaday +world, he was not yet so thoroughly foolish as to join his fossilised +wisdom to the ignorance of a child of sixteen or seventeen. + +However, on the morrow matters assumed a somewhat different aspect. +Gertrude van Floote proved to be not exactly a gentlewoman. It is true +that her father had been a well-to-do man for his station in life, and +had very much spoiled and indulged his one motherless child. Yet her +education was so slight that she could do little more than read and +write, besides speaking a little English, which she had picked up from +the yachtsmen frequenting her native town. The professor found she had +been but a distant relative of the Mevrouw Baake, to seek whom she +had come to Utrecht, and that she had no kinsfolk upon whom she could +depend--a fact which accounted for the profusion of her jewellery, all +her golden trinkets having descended to her as heirlooms. + +"I can be your servant, mynheer," she suggested. "Indeed, I am a very +useful girl, as you will find if you will but try me." + +Now, as a rule, the professor vigorously set his face against admitting +young servants into his house. They broke his china, they disarranged +his bones, they meddled with his papers, and made general havoc. So, +in truth, he was not very willing to have Gertrude van Floote as a +permanent member of his household, and he said so. + +But Koosje had taken a fancy to the girl; and having an eye to her own +departure at no very distant date,--for she had been betrothed more than +two years,--she pleaded so hard to keep her, promising to train her +in all the professor's ways, to teach her the value of old china and +osteologic specimens, that eventually, with a good deal of grumbling, +the old gentleman gave way, and, being a wise as well as an old +gentleman, went back to his studies, dismissing Koosje and the girl +alike from his thoughts. + +Just at first Truide, poor child, was charmed. + +She put away her splendid ornaments, and some lilac frocks and black +skirts were purchased for her. Her box, which she had left at the +station, supplied all that was necessary for Sunday. + +It was great fun! For a whole week this young person danced about the +rambling old house, playing at being a servant. Then she began to grow +a little weary of it all. She had been accustomed, of course, to +performing such offices as all Dutch ladies fulfil--the care of china, +of linen, the dusting of rooms, and the like; but she had done them as +a mistress, not as an underling. And that was not the worst; it was when +it came to her pretty feet having to be thrust into klompen, and her +having to take a pail and syringe and mop and clean the windows and the +pathway and the front of the house, that the game of maid-servant began +to assume a very different aspect. When, after having been as free +as air to come and go as she chose, she was only permitted to attend +service on Sundays, and to take an hour's promenade with Dortje, who was +dull and heavy and stupid, she began to feel positively desperate; and +the result of it all was that when Jan van der Welde came, as he was +accustomed to do nearly every evening, to see Koosje, Miss Truide, from +sheer longing for excitement and change, began to make eyes at him, with +what effect I will endeavour to show. + +Just at first Koosje noticed nothing. She herself was of so faithful a +nature that an idea, a suspicion, of Jan's faithlessness never entered +her mind. When the girl laughed and blushed and dimpled and smiled, +when she cast her great blue eyes at the big young fellow, Koosje only +thought how pretty she was, and it was just a thousand pities she had +not been born a great lady. + +And thus weeks slipped over. Never very demonstrative herself, Koosje +saw nothing, Dortje, for her part, saw a great deal; but Dortje was a +woman of few words, one who quite believed in the saying, "If speech is +silver, silence is gold;" so she held her peace. + +Now Truide, rendered fairly frantic by her enforced confinement to +the house, grew to look upon Jan as her only chance of excitement and +distraction; and Jan, poor, thick-headed noodle of six feet high, was +thoroughly wretched. What to do he knew not. A strange, mad, fierce +passion for Truide had taken possession of him, and an utter distaste, +almost dislike, had come in place of the old love for Koosje. Truide +was unlike anything he had ever come in contact with before; she was so +fairy-like, so light, so delicate, so dainty. Against Koosje's plumper, +maturer charms, she appeared to the infatuated young man like--if he had +ever heard of it he would probably have said like a Dresden china image; +but since he had not, he compared her in his own foolish heart to an +angel. Her feet were so tiny, her hands so soft, her eyes so expressive, +her waist so slim, her manner so bewitching! Somehow Koosje was +altogether different; he could not endure the touch of her heavy hand, +the tones of her less refined voice; he grew impatient at the denser +perceptions of her mind. It was very foolish, very short-sighted; for +the hands, though heavy, were clever and willing; the voice, though a +trifle coarser in accent than Truide's childish tones, would never tell +him a lie; the perceptions, though not brilliant, were the perceptions +of good, every-day common sense. It really was very foolish, for what +charmed him most in Truide was the merest outside polish, a certain ease +of manner which doubtless she had caught from the English aristocrats +whom she had known in her native place. She had not half the sterling +good qualities and steadfastness of Koosje; but Jan was in love, and +did not stop to argue the matter as you or I are able to do. Men in +love--very wise and great men, too--are often like Jan van der Welde. +They lay aside pro tem. the whole amount, be it great or small, of +wisdom they possess. And it must be remembered that Jan van der Welde +was neither a wise nor a great man. + +Well, in the end there came what the French call _un denouement_,--what +we in forcible modern English would call a _smash_,--and it happened +thus. It was one evening toward the summer that Koosje's eyes were +suddenly opened, and she became aware of the free-and-easy familiarity +of Truide's manner toward her betrothed lover, Jan. It was some very +slight and trivial thing that led her to notice it, but in an instant +the whole truth flashed across her mind. + +"Leave the kitchen!" she said, in a tone of authority. + +But it happened that, at the very instant she spoke, Jan was furtively +holding Truide's fingers under the cover of the table-cloth; and when, +on hearing the sharp words, the girl would have snatched them away, he, +with true masculine instinct of opposition, held them fast. + +"What do you mean by speaking to her like that?" he demanded, an angry +flush overspreading his dark face. + +"What is the maid to you?" Koosje asked, indignantly. + +"Maybe more than you are," he retorted; in answer to which Koosje +deliberately marched out of the kitchen, leaving them alone. + +To say she was indignant would be but very mildly to express the state +of her feelings; she was _furious_. She knew that the end of her romance +had come. No thoughts of making friends with Jan entered her mind; only +a great storm filled her heart till it was ready to burst with pain and +anguish. + +As she went along the passage the professor's bell sounded, and Koosje, +being close to the door, went abruptly in. The professor looked up in +mild astonishment, quickly enough changed to dismay as he caught sight +of his valued Koosje's face, from out of which anger seemed in a moment +to have thrust all the bright, comely beauty. + +"How now, my good Koosje?" said the old gentleman. "Is aught amiss?" + +"Yes, professor, there is," returned Koosje, all in a blaze of anger, +and moving, as she spoke, the tea-tray, which she set down upon the +oaken buffet with a bang, which made its fair and delicate freight +fairly jingle again. + +"But you needn't break my china, Koosje," suggested the old gentleman, +mildly, rising from his chair and getting into his favourite attitude +before the stove. + +"You are quite right, professor," returned Koosje, curtly; she was +sensible even in her trouble. + +"And what is the trouble?" he asked, gently. + +"It's just this, professor," cried Koosje, setting her arms akimbo and +speaking in a high-pitched, shrill voice; "you and I have been warming +a viper in our bosoms, and, viper-like, she has turned round and bitten +me." + +"Is it Truide?" + +"Truide," she affirmed, disdainfully. "Yes, it is Truide, who but for +me would be dead now of hunger and cold--or _worse_. And she has been +making love to that great fool, Jan van der Welde,--great oaf that he +is,--after all I have done for her; after my dragging her in out of the +cold and rain; after all I have taught her. Ah, professor, but it is a +vile, venomous viper that we have been warming in our bosoms!" + +"I must beg, Koosje," said the old gentleman, sedately, "that you will +exonerate me from any such proceeding. If you remember rightly, I was +altogether against your plan for keeping her in the house." He could not +resist giving her that little dig, kind of heart as he was. + +"Serves me right for being so soft-hearted!" thundered Koosje. "I'll be +wiser next time I fall over a bundle, and leave it where I find it." + +"No, no, Koosje; don't say that," the old gentleman remonstrated, +gently. "After all, it may be but a blessing in disguise. God sends all +our trials for some good and wise purpose. Our heaviest afflictions are +often, nay, most times, Koosje, means to some great end which, while the +cloud of adversity hangs over us, we are unable to discern." + +"Ah!" sniffed Koosje, scornfully. + +"This oaf--as I must say you justly term him, for you are a good clever +woman, Koosje, as I can testify after the experience of years--has +proved that he can be false; he has shown that he can throw away +substance for shadow (for, of a truth, that poor, pretty child would +make a sad wife for a poor man); yet it is better you should know it now +than at some future date, when--when there might be other ties to make +the knowledge more bitter to you." + +"Yes, that is true," said Koosje, passing the back of her hand across +her trembling lips. She could not shed tears over her trouble; her eyes +were dry and burning, as if anger had scorched the blessed drops up ere +they should fall. She went on washing up the cups and saucers, or at +least _the_ cup and saucer, and other articles the professor had used +for his tea; and after a few minutes' silence he spoke again. + +"What are you going to do? Punish her, or turn her out, or what?" + +"I shall let him--_marry_ her," replied Koosje, with a portentous nod. + +The old gentleman couldn't help laughing. "You think he will pay off +your old scores?" + +"Before long," answered Koosje, grimly, "she will find him out--as I +have done." + +Then, having finished washing the tea-things, which the professor had +shuddered to behold in her angry hands, she whirled herself out of the +room and left him alone. + +"Oh, these women--these women!" he cried, in confidence, to the pictures +and skeletons. "What a worry they are! An old bachelor has the best of +it in the main, I do believe. But oh, Jan van der Welde, what a donkey +you must be to get yourself mixed up in such a broil! and yet--ah!" + +The fossilised old gentleman broke off with a sigh as he recalled the +memory of a certain dead-and-gone romance which had happened--goodness +only knows how many years before--when he, like Jan van der Welde, would +have thrown the world away for a glance of a certain pair of blue eyes, +at the bidding of a certain English tongue, whose broken _Nederlandsche +taal_ was to him the sweetest music ever heard on earth--sweeter even +than the strains of the Stradivari when from under his skilful fingers +rose the perfect melodies of old masters. Ay, but the sweet eyes had +been closed in death many a long, long, year, the sweet voice hushed +in silence. He had watched the dear life ebb away, the fire in the +blue eyes fade out. He had felt each day that the clasp of the little +greeting fingers was less close; each day he had seen the outline of the +face grow sharper; and at last there had come one when the poor little +English-woman met him with the gaze of one who knew him not, and +babbled, not of green fields, but of horses and dogs, and of a brother +Jack, who, five years before, had gone down with her Majesty's ship +_Alligator_ in mid-Atlantic. + +Ay, but that was many and many a year agone. His young, blue-eyed love +stood out alone in life's history, a thing apart. Of the gentler sex, in +a general way, the old professor had not seen that which had raised it +in his estimation to the level of the one woman over whose memory hung a +bright halo of romance. + + +Fifteen years had passed away; the old professor of osteology had passed +away with them; and in the large house on the Domplein lived a baron, +with half a dozen noisy, happy, healthy children,--young _fraulas_ and +_jonkheers_,--who scampered up and down the marble passages, and fell +headlong down the steep, narrow, unlighted stairways, to the imminent +danger of dislocating their aristocratic little necks. There was a new +race of neat maids, clad in the same neat livery of lilac and black, +who scoured and cleaned, just as Koosje and Dortje had done in the +old professor's day. You might, indeed, have heard the selfsame names +resounding through the echoing rooms: "Koos-je! Dort-je!" + +But the Koosje and Dortje were not the same. What had become of Dortje I +cannot say; but on the left-hand side of the busy, bustling, picturesque +Oude Gracht there was a handsome shop filled with all manner of cakes, +sweeties, confections, and liquors--from absinthe to Benedictine, +or arrack to chartreuse. In that shop was a handsome, prosperous, +middle-aged woman, well dressed and well mannered, no longer Professor +van Dijck's Koosje, but the Jevrouw van Kampen. + +Yes; Koosje had come to be a prosperous tradeswoman of good position, +respected by all. But she was Koosje van Kampen still; the romance which +had come to so disastrous and abrupt an end had sufficed for her life. +Many an offer had been made to her, it is true; but she had always +declared that she had had enough of lovers--she had found out their real +value. + +I must tell you that at the time of Jan's infidelity, after the first +flush of rage was over, Koosje disdained to show any sign of grief or +regret. She was very proud, this Netherland servant-maid, far too proud +to let those by whom she was surrounded imagine she was wearing the +willow for the faithless Jan; and when Dortje, on the day of the +wedding, remarked that for her part she had always considered Koosje +remarkably cool on the subject of matrimony, Koosje with a careless +out-turning of her hands, palms uppermost, answered that she was right. + +Very soon after their marriage Jan and his young wife left Utrecht for +Arnheim, where Jan had promise of higher wages; and thus they passed, as +Koosje thought, completely out of her life. + +"I don't wish to hear anything more about them, if--you--please," she +said, severely and emphatically, to Dortje. + +But not so. In time the professor died, leaving Koosje the large legacy +with which she set up the handsome shop in the Oude Gracht; and several +years passed on. + +It happened one day that Koosje was sitting in her shop sewing. In the +large inner room a party of ladies and officers were eating cakes and +drinking chocolates and liquors with a good deal of fun and laughter, +when the door opened timidly, thereby letting in a gust of bitter wind, +and a woman crept fearfully in, followed by two small, crying children. + +Could the lady give her something to eat? she asked; they had had +nothing during the day, and the little ones were almost famished. + +Koosje, who was very charitable, lifted a tray of large, plain buns, and +was about to give her some, when her eyes fell upon the poor beggar's +faded face, and she exclaimed: + +"Truide!" + +Truide, for it was she, looked up in startled surprise. + +"I did not know, or I would not have come in, Koosje," she said, humbly; +"for I treated you very badly." + +"Ve-ry bad-ly," returned Koosje, emphatically. "Then where is Jan?" + +"Dead!" murmured Truide, sadly. + +"Dead! so--ah, well! I suppose I must do something for you. Here Yanke!" +opening the door and calling, "Yanke!" + +"_Je, jevrouw_," a voice cried, in reply. + +The next moment a maid came running into the shop. + +"Take these people into the kitchen and give them something to eat. +Put them by the stove while you prepare it. There is some soup and that +smoked ham we had for _koffy_. Then come here and take my place for a +while." + +"_Je, jevrouw_," said Yanke, disappearing again, followed by Truide and +her children. + +Then Koosje sat down again, and began to think. + +"I said," she mused, presently, "_that_ night that the next time I +fell over a bundle I'd leave it where I found it. Ah, well! I'm not +a barbarian; I couldn't do that. I never thought, though, it would be +Truide." + +"_Hi, jevrouw_," was called from the inner room. + +"_Je, mynheer_," jumping up and going to her customers. + +She attended to their wants, and presently bowed them out. + +"I never thought it would be Truide," she repeated to herself, as +she closed the door behind the last of the gay uniforms and jingling +scabbards. "And Jan is dead--ah, well!" + +Then she went into the kitchen, where the miserable children--girls both +of them, and pretty had they been clean and less forlornly clad--were +playing about the stove. + +"So Jan is dead," began Koosje, seating herself. + +"Yes, Jan is dead," Truide answered. + +"And he left you nothing?" Koosje asked. + +"We had had nothing for a long time," Truide replied, in her sad, +crushed voice. "We didn't get on very well; he soon got tired of me." + +"That was a weakness of his," remarked Koosje, drily. + +"We lost five little ones, one after another," Truide continued. "And +Jan was fond of them, and somehow it seemed to sour him. As for me, I +was sorry enough at the time, Heaven knows, but it was as well. But Jan +said it seemed as if a curse had fallen upon us; he began to wish you +back again, and to blame me for having come between you. And then he +took to _genever_, and then to wish for something stronger; so at last +every stiver went for absinthe, and once or twice he beat me, and then +he died." + +"Just as well," muttered Koosje, under her breath. + +"It is very good of you to have fed and warmed us," Truide went on, in +her faint, complaining tones. "Many a one would have let me starve, and +I should have deserved it. It is very good of you and we are grateful; +but 'tis time we were going, Koosje and Mina;" then added, with a shake +of her head, "but I don't know where." + +"Oh, you'd better stay," said Koosje, hurriedly. "I live in this big +house by myself, and I dare say you'll be more useful in the shop than +Yanke--if your tongue is as glib as it used to be, that is. You know +some English, too, don't you?" + +"A little," Truide answered, eagerly. + +"And after all," Koosje said, philosophically, shrugging her shoulders, +"you saved me from the beatings and the starvings and the rest. I owe +you something for that. Why, if it hadn't been for you I should have +been silly enough to have married him." + +And then she went back to her shop, saying to herself: + +"The professor said it was a blessing in disguise; God sends all our +trials to work some great purpose. Yes; that was what he said, and he +knew most things. Just think if I were trailing about now with those +two little ones, with nothing to look back to but a schnapps-drinking +husband who beat me! Ah, well, well! things are best as they are. I +don't know that I ought not to be very much obliged to her--and she'll +be very useful in the shop." + + + + +A DOG OF FLANDERS, by Ouida + + +Nello and Patrasche were left all alone in the world. + +They were friends in a friendship closer than brotherhood. Nello was +a little Ardennois; Patrasche was a big Fleming. They were both of the +same age by length of years; yet one was still young, and the other was +already old. They had dwelt together almost all their days; both were +orphaned and destitute, and owed their lives to the same hand. It +had been the beginning of the tie between them,--their first bond of +sympathy,--and it had strengthened day by day, and had grown with +their growth, firm and indissoluble, until they loved one another very +greatly. + +Their home was a little hut on the edge of a little village--a Flemish +village a league from Antwerp, set amidst flat breadths of pasture and +corn-lands, with long lines of poplars and of alders bending in the +breeze on the edge of the great canal which ran through it. It had about +a score of houses and homesteads, with shutters of bright green or sky +blue, and roofs rose red or black and white, and walls whitewashed until +they shone in the sun like snow. In the centre of the village stood a +windmill, placed on a little moss-grown slope; it was a landmark to all +the level country round. It had once been painted scarlet, sails and +all; but that had been in its infancy, half a century or more earlier, +when it had ground wheat for the soldiers of Napoleon; and it was now +a ruddy brown, tanned by wind and weather. It went queerly by fits and +starts, as though rheumatic and stiff in the joints from age; but it +served the whole neighborhood, which would have thought it almost +as impious to carry grain elsewhere as to attend any other religious +service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the little old +gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite to it, +and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that strange, +subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low Countries +seems to gain as an integral part of its melody. + +Within sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth +upward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut +on the edge of the village, with the cathedral spire of Antwerp rising +in the northeast, beyond the great green plain of seeding grass and +spreading corn that stretched away from them like a tideless, changeless +sea. It was the hut of a very old man, of a very poor man--of old Jehan +Daas, who in his time had been a soldier, and who remembered the wars +that had trampled the country as oxen tread down the furrows, and who +had brought from his service nothing except a wound, which had made him +a cripple. + +When old Jehan Daas had reached his full eighty, his daughter had +died in the Ardennes, hard by Stavelot, and had left him in legacy her +two-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself, +but he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon +became welcome and precious to him. Little Nello, which was but a pet +diminutive for Nicolas, throve with him, and the old man and the little +child lived in the poor little hut contentedly. + +It was a very humble little mud hut indeed, but it was clean and white +as a sea-shell, and stood in a small plot of garden ground that yielded +beans and herbs and pumpkins. They were very poor, terribly poor; many a +day they had nothing at all to eat. They never by any chance had enough; +to have had enough to eat would have been to have reached paradise at +once. But the old man was very gentle and good to the boy, and the boy +was a beautiful, innocent, truthful, tender-natured creature; and they +were happy on a crust and a few leaves of cabbage, and asked no more of +earth or heaven--save indeed that Patrasche should be always with them, +since without Patrasche where would they have been? + +For Patrasche was their alpha and omega; their treasury and granary; +their store of gold and wand of wealth; their bread-winner and minister; +their only friend and comforter. Patrasche dead or gone from them, they +must have laid themselves down and died likewise. Patrasche was body, +brains, hands, head, and feet to both of them; Patrasche was their very +life, their very soul. For Jehan Daas was old and a cripple, and Nello +was but a child; and Patrasche was their dog. + +A dog of Flanders--yellow of hide, large of head and limb, with +wolf-like ears that stood erect, and legs bowed and feet widened in the +muscular development wrought in his breed by many generations of hard +service. Patrasche came of a race which had toiled hard and cruelly from +sire to son in Flanders many a century--slaves of slaves, dogs of the +people, beasts of the shafts and the harness, creatures that lived +straining their sinews in the gall of the cart, and died breaking their +hearts on the flints of the streets. + +Patrasche had been born of parents who had labored hard all their +days over the sharp-set stones of the various cities and the long, +shadowless, weary roads of the two Flanders and of Brabant. He had been +born to no other heritage than those of pain and of toil. He had been +fed on curses and baptized with blows. Why not? It was a Christian +country, and Patrasche was but a dog. Before he was fully grown he had +known the bitter gall of the cart and the collar. Before he had entered +his thirteenth month he had become the property of a hardware dealer, +who was accustomed to wander over the land north and south, from the +blue sea to the green mountains. They sold him for a small price, +because he was so young. + +This man was a drunkard and a brute. The life of Patrasche was a life of +hell. To deal the tortures of hell on the animal creation is a way which +the Christians have of showing their belief in it. His purchaser was +a sullen, ill-living, brutal Brabantois, who heaped his cart full with +pots and pans and flagons and buckets, and other wares of crockery and +brass and tin, and left Patrasche to draw the load as best he might, +while he himself lounged idly by the side in fat and sluggish ease, +smoking his black pipe and stopping at every wineshop or cafe on the +road. + +Happily for Patrasche, or unhappily, he was very strong; he came of an +iron race, long born and bred to such cruel travail; so that he did +not die, but managed to drag on a wretched existence under the brutal +burdens, the scarifying lashes, the hunger, the thirst, the blows, +the curses, and the exhaustion which are the only wages with which the +Flemings repay the most patient and laborious of all their four-footed +victims. One day, after two years of this long and deadly agony, +Patrasche was going on as usual along one of the straight, dusty, +unlovely roads that lead to the city of Rubens. It was full midsummer, +and very warm. His cart was very heavy, piled high with goods in +metal and in earthenware. His owner sauntered on without noticing him +otherwise than by the crack of the whip as it curled round his quivering +loins. The Brabantois had paused to drink beer himself at every wayside +house, but he had forbidden Patrasche to stop a moment for a draught +from the canal. Going along thus, in the full sun, on a scorching +highway, having eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, and, which was far +worse to him, not having tasted water for near twelve, being blind with +dust, sore with blows, and stupefied with the merciless weight which +dragged upon his loins, Patrasche staggered and foamed a little at the +mouth, and fell. + +He fell in the middle of the white, dusty road, in the full glare of +the sun; he was sick unto death, and motionless. His master gave him the +only medicine in his pharmacy--kicks and oaths and blows with a cudgel +of oak, which had been often the only food and drink, the only wage and +reward, ever offered to him. But Patrasche was beyond the reach of any +torture or of any curses. Patrasche lay, dead to all appearances, +down in the white powder of the summer dust. After a while, finding +it useless to assail his ribs with punishment and his ears with +maledictions, the Brabantois--deeming life gone in him, or going, so +nearly that his carcass was forever useless, unless, indeed, some one +should strip it of the skin for gloves--cursed him fiercely in farewell, +struck off the leathern bands of the harness, kicked his body aside into +the grass, and, groaning and muttering in savage wrath, pushed the cart +lazily along the road uphill, and left the dying dog for the ants to +sting and for the crows to pick. + +It was the last day before kermess away at Louvain, and the Brabantois +was in haste to reach the fair and get a good place for his truck of +brass wares. He was in fierce wrath, because Patrasche had been a strong +and much-enduring animal, and because he himself had now the hard task +of pushing his _charette_ all the way to Louvain. But to stay to look +after Patrasche never entered his thoughts; the beast was dying and +useless, and he would steal, to replace him, the first large dog that he +found wandering alone out of sight of its master. Patrasche had cost him +nothing, or next to nothing, and for two long, cruel years he had made +him toil ceaselessly in his service from sunrise to sunset, through +summer and winter, in fair weather and foul. + +He had got a fair use and a good profit out of Patrasche; being human, +he was wise, and left the dog to draw his last breath alone in the +ditch, and have his bloodshot eyes plucked out as they might be by the +birds, whilst he himself went on his way to beg and to steal, to eat and +to drink, to dance and to sing, in the mirth at Louvain. A dying dog, a +dog of the cart--why should he waste hours over its agonies at peril of +losing a handful of copper coins, at peril of a shout of laughter? + +Patrasche lay there, flung in the grass-green ditch. It was a busy road +that day, and hundreds of people, on foot and on mules, in waggons or +in carts, went by, tramping quickly and joyously on to Louvain. Some saw +him; most did not even look; all passed on. A dead dog more or less--it +was nothing in Brabant; it would be nothing anywhere in the world. + +After a time, among the holiday-makers, there came a little old man who +was bent and lame, and very feeble. He was in no guise for feasting; he +was very poorly and miserably clad, and he dragged his silent way slowly +through the dust among the pleasure-seekers. He looked at Patrasche, +paused, wondered, turned aside, then kneeled down in the rank grass and +weeds of the ditch, and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of pity. There +was with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a few years +old, who pattered in amid the bushes, that were for him breast-high, +and stood gazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, great, quiet +beast. + +Thus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big +Patrasche. + +The upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious +effort, drew the sufferer homeward to his own little hut, which was a +stone's throw off amidst the fields; and there tended him with so much +care that the sickness, which had been a brain seizure brought on by +heat and thirst and exhaustion, with time and shade and rest passed +away, and health and strength returned, and Patrasche staggered up again +upon his four stout, tawny legs. + +Now for many weeks he had been useless, powerless, sore, near to death; +but all this time he had heard no rough word, had felt no harsh touch, +but only the pitying murmurs of the child's voice and the soothing +caress of the old man's hand. + +In his sickness they two had grown to care for him, this lonely man and +the little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of +dry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his +breathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he +first was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed +aloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure +restoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung round his rugged +neck chains of marguerites, and kissed him with fresh and ruddy lips. + +So then, when Patrasche arose, himself again, strong, big, gaunt, +powerful, his great wistful eyes had a gentle astonishment in them that +there were no curses to rouse him and no blows to drive him; and +his heart awakened to a mighty love, which never wavered once in its +fidelity while life abode with him. + +But Patrasche, being a dog, was grateful. Patrasche lay pondering long +with grave, tender, musing brown eyes, watching the movements of his +friends. + +Now, the old soldier, Jehan Daas, could do nothing for his living but +limp about a little with a small cart, with which he carried daily the +milk-cans of those happier neighbours who owned cattle away into the +town of Antwerp. The villagers gave him the employment a little out of +charity; more because it suited them well to send their milk into the +town by so honest a carrier, and bide at home themselves to look after +their gardens, their cows, their poultry, or their little fields. But it +was becoming hard work for the old man. He was eighty-three, and Antwerp +was a good league off, or more. + +Patrasche watched the milk-cans come and go that one day when he had got +well and was lying in the sun with the wreath of marguerites round his +tawny neck. + +The next morning, Patrasche, before the old man had touched the cart, +arose and walked to it and placed himself betwixt its handles, and +testified as plainly as dumb-show could do his desire and his ability +to work in return for the bread of charity that he had eaten. Jehan Daas +resisted long, for the old man was one of those who thought it a foul +shame to bind dogs to labor for which Nature never formed them. But +Patrasche would not be gainsaid; finding they did not harness him, he +tried to draw the cart onward with his teeth. + +At length Jehan Daas gave way, vanquished by the persistence and the +gratitude of this creature whom he had succored. He fashioned his cart +so that Patrasche could run in it, and this he did every morning of his +life thenceforward. + +When the winter came, Jehan Daas thanked the blessed fortune that had +brought him to the dying dog in the ditch that fair-day of Louvain; for +he was very old, and he grew feebler with each year, and he would ill +have known how to pull his load of milk-cans over the snows and through +the deep ruts in the mud if it had not been for the strength and the +industry of the animal he had befriended. As for Patrasche, it seemed +heaven to him. After the frightful burdens that his old master had +compelled him to strain under, at the call of the whip at every step, it +seemed nothing to him but amusement to step out with this little light, +green cart, with its bright brass cans, by the side of the gentle old +man who always paid him with a tender caress and with a kindly word. +Besides, his work was over by three or four in the day, and after that +time he was free to do as he would--to stretch himself, to sleep in the +sun, to wander in the fields, to romp with the young child, or to play +with his fellow-dogs. Patrasche was very happy. + +Fortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken +brawl at the kermess of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor +disturbed him in his new and well-loved home. + +A few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became +so paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out +with the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth +year of age, and knowing the town well from having accompanied his +grandfather so many times, took his place beside the cart, and sold the +milk and received the coins in exchange, and brought them back to their +respective owners with a pretty grace and seriousness which charmed all +who beheld him. + +The little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender +eyes, and a lovely bloom upon his face, and fair locks that clustered to +his throat; and many an artist sketched the group as it went by him--the +green cart with the brass flagons of Teniers and Mieris and Van Tal, +and the great, tawny-colored, massive dog, with his belled harness that +chimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran beside him +which had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, grave, +innocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens. + +Nello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that +Jehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no +need to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them +go forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream and pray +a little, and then awake again as the clock tolled three and watch for +their return. And on their return Patrasche would shake himself free of +his harness with a bay of glee, and Nello would recount with pride the +doings of the day; and they would all go in together to their meal of +rye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the +great plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and +then lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a +prayer. + +So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and Patrasche +were happy, innocent, and healthful. + +In the spring and summer especially were they glad. Flanders is not a +lovely land, and around the burg of Rubens it is perhaps least lovely +of all. Corn and colza, pasture and plough, succeed each other on the +characterless plain in wearying repetition, and, save by some gaunt gray +tower, with its peal of pathetic bells, or some figure coming athwart +the fields, made picturesque by a gleaner's bundle or a woodman's fagot, +there is no change, no variety, no beauty anywhere; and he who has +dwelt upon the mountains or amid the forests feels oppressed as by +imprisonment with the tedium and the endlessness of that vast and dreary +level. But it is green and very fertile, and it has wide horizons that +have a certain charm of their own even in their dulness and monotony; +and among the rushes by the waterside the flowers grow, and the trees +rise tall and fresh where the barges glide, with their great hulks black +against the sun, and their little green barrels and vari-coloured flags +gay against the leaves. Anyway, there is greenery and breadth of space +enough to be as good as beauty to a child and a dog; and these two asked +no better, when their work was done, than to lie buried in the lush +grasses on the side of the canal, and watch the cumbrous vessels +drifting by and bringing the crisp salt smell of the sea among the +blossoming scents of the country summer. + +True, in the winter it was harder, and they had to rise in the darkness +and the bitter cold, and they had seldom as much as they could have +eaten any day; and the hut was scarce better than a shed when the nights +were cold, although it looked so pretty in warm weather, buried in a +great kindly clambering vine, that never bore fruit, indeed, but which +covered it with luxuriant green tracery all through the months of +blossom and harvest. In winter the winds found many holes in the walls +of the poor little hut, and the vine was black and leafless, and the +bare lands looked very bleak and drear without, and sometimes within the +floor was flooded and then frozen. In winter it was hard, and the snow +numbed the little white limbs of Nello, and the icicles cut the brave, +untiring feet of Patrasche. + +But even then they were never heard to lament, either of them. The +child's wooden shoes and the dog's four legs would trot manfully +together over the frozen fields to the chime of the bells on the +harness; and then sometimes, in the streets of Antwerp, some housewife +would bring them a bowl of soup and a handful of bread, or some kindly +trader would throw some billets of fuel into the little cart as it went +homeward, or some woman in their own village would bid them keep a share +of the milk they carried for their own food; and they would run over +the white lands, through the early darkness, bright and happy, and burst +with a shout of joy into their home. + +So, on the whole, it was well with them--very well; and Patrasche, +meeting on the highway or in the public streets the many dogs who toiled +from daybreak into nightfall, paid only with blows and curses, and +loosened from the shafts with a kick to starve and freeze as best they +might--Patrasche in his heart was very grateful to his fate, and thought +it the fairest and the kindliest the world could hold. Though he was +often very hungry indeed when he lay down at night; though he had to +work in the heats of summer noons and the rasping chills of winter +dawns; though his feet were often tender with wounds from the sharp +edges of the jagged pavement; though he had to perform tasks beyond his +strength and against his nature--yet he was grateful and content; he did +his duty with each day, and the eyes that he loved smiled down on him. +It was sufficient for Patrasche. + +There was only one thing which caused Patrasche any uneasiness in his +life, and it was this. Antwerp, as all the world knows, is full at every +turn of old piles of stones, dark and ancient and majestic, standing +in crooked courts, jammed against gateways and taverns, rising by the +water's edge, with bells ringing above them in the air, and ever and +again out of their arched doors a swell of music pealing. There they +remain, the grand old sanctuaries of the past, shut in amid the squalor, +the hurry, the crowds, the unloveliness, and the commerce of the modern +world; and all day long the clouds drift and the birds circle and +the winds sigh around them, and beneath the earth at their feet there +sleeps--RUBENS. + +And the greatness of the mighty master still rests upon Antwerp, and +wherever we turn in its narrow streets his glory lies therein, so that +all mean things are thereby transfigured; and as we pace slowly through +the winding ways, and by the edge of the stagnant water, and through the +noisome courts, his spirit abides with us, and the heroic beauty of his +visions is about us, and the stones that once felt his footsteps and +bore his shadow seem to arise and speak of him with living voices. For +the city which is the tomb of Rubens still lives to us through him, and +him alone. + +It is so quiet there by that great white sepulchre--so quiet, save only +when the organ peals and the choir cries aloud the Salve Regina or the +Kyrie eleison. Sure no artist ever had a greater gravestone than that +pure marble sanctuary gives to him in the heart of his birthplace in the +chancel of St. Jacques. + +Without Rubens, what were Antwerp? A dirty, dusky, bustling mart, which +no man would ever care to look upon save the traders who do business on +its wharves. With Rubens, to the whole world of men it is a sacred name, +a sacred soil, a Bethlehem where a god of art saw light, a Golgotha +where a god of art lies dead. + +O nations! closely should you treasure your great men; for by them alone +will the future know of you. Flanders in her generations has been wise. +In his life she glorified this greatest of her sons, and in his death +she magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare. + +Now, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of +stones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs, +the child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through +their dark, arched portals, while Patrasche, left without upon the +pavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm +which thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion. Once +or twice he did essay to see for himself, clattering up the steps with +his milk-cart behind him; but thereon he had been always sent back again +summarily by a tall custodian in black clothes and silver chains of +office; and fearful of bringing his little master into trouble, he +desisted, and remained couched patiently before the churches until such +time as the boy reappeared. It was not the fact of his going into them +which disturbed Patrasche; he knew that people went to church; all +the village went to the small, tumble-down, gray pile opposite the +red windmill. What troubled him was that little Nello always looked +strangely when he came out, always very flushed or very pale; and +whenever he returned home after such visitations would sit silent and +dreaming, not caring to play, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond +the line of the canal, very subdued and almost sad. + +What was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or +natural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he +tried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the +busy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go; most often of all +would he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the +stones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch +himself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain, +until the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and +winding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on his broad, +tawny-colored forehead, and murmur always the same words, "If I could +only see them, Patrasche!--if I could only see them!" + +What were they? pondered Patrasche, looking up with large, wistful, +sympathetic eyes. + +One day, when the custodian was out of the way and the doors left ajar, +he got in for a moment after his little friend and saw. "They" were two +great covered pictures on either side of the choir. + +Nello was kneeling, rapt as in an ecstasy, before the altar-picture of +the Assumption, and when he noticed Patrasche, and rose and drew the dog +gently out into the air, his face was wet with tears, and he looked up +at the veiled places as he passed them, and murmured to his companion, +"It is so terrible not to see them, Patrasche, just because one is poor +and cannot pay! He never meant that the poor should not see them when +he painted them, I am sure. He would have had us see them any day, every +day; that I am sure. And they keep them shrouded there--shrouded! in the +dark, the beautiful things! And they never feel the light, and no eyes +look on them, unless rich people come and pay. If I could only see them, +I would be content to die." + +But he could not see them, and Patrasche could not help him, for to gain +the silver piece that the church exacts as the price for looking on the +glories of the "Elevation of the Cross" and the "Descent of the Cross" +was a thing as utterly beyond the powers of either of them as it would +have been to scale the heights of the cathedral spire. They had never so +much as a sou to spare; if they cleared enough to get a little wood for +the stove, a little broth for the pot, it was the utmost they could do. +And yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon +beholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens. + +The whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an +absorbing passion for art. Going on his ways through the old city in +the early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked +only a little peasant boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from +door to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god. +Nello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the +winter winds blowing among his curls and lifting his poor thin garments, +was in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was the +beautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of her +golden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal sun +shining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted +by fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the +compensation or the curse which is called genius. No one knew it; he as +little as any. No one knew it. Only, indeed, Patrasche, who, being with +him always, saw him draw with chalk upon the stones any and every thing +that grew or breathed, heard him on his little bed of hay murmur all +manner of timid, pathetic prayers to the spirit of the great master; +watched his gaze darken and his face radiate at the evening glow of +sunset or the rosy rising of the dawn; and felt many and many a time the +tears of a strange, nameless pain and joy, mingled together, fall hotly +from the bright young eyes upon his own wrinkled yellow forehead. + +"I should go to my grave quite content if I thought, Nello, that when +thou growest a man thou couldst own this hut and the little plot of +ground, and labor for thyself, and be called Baas by thy neighbours," +said the old man Jehan many an hour from his bed. For to own a bit of +soil, and to be called Baas (master) by the hamlet round, is to have +achieved the highest ideal of a Flemish peasant; and the old soldier, +who had wandered over all the earth in his youth, and had brought +nothing back, deemed in his old age that to live and die on one spot in +contented humility was the fairest fate he could desire for his darling. +But Nello said nothing. + +The same leaven was working in him that in other times begat Rubens and +Jordaens and the Van Eycks, and all their wondrous tribe, and in times +more recent begat in the green country of the Ardennes, where the Meuse +washes the old walls of Dijon, the great artist of the Patroclus, whose +genius is too near us for us aright to measure its divinity. + +Nello dreamed of other things in the future than of tilling the little +rood of earth, and living under the wattle roof, and being called Baas +by neighbours a little poorer or a little less poor than himself. The +cathedral spire, where it rose beyond the fields in the ruddy evening +skies or in the dim, gray, misty mornings, said other things to him than +this. But these he told only to Patrasche, whispering, childlike, his +fancies in the dog's ear when they went together at their work through +the fogs of the daybreak, or lay together at their rest among the +rustling rushes by the water's side. + +For such dreams are not easily shaped into speech to awake the slow +sympathies of human auditors; and they would only have sorely perplexed +and troubled the poor old man bedridden in his corner, who, for his +part, whenever he had trodden the streets of Antwerp, had thought the +daub of blue and red that they called a Madonna, on the walls of the +wine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as +any of the famous altarpieces for which the stranger folk traveled far +and wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone. + +There was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at +all of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at +the old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was +the best-to-do husbandman in all the village. Little Alois was only a +pretty baby with soft round, rosy features, made lovely by those sweet +dark eyes that the Spanish rule has left in so many a Flemish face, +in testimony of the Alvan dominion, as Spanish art has left broad-sown +throughout the country majestic palaces and stately courts, gilded +house-fronts and sculptured lintels--histories in blazonry and poems in +stone. + +Little Alois was often with Nello and Patrasche. They played in the +fields, they ran in the snow, they gathered the daisies and bilberries, +they went up to the old gray church together, and they often sat +together by the broad wood fire in the mill-house. Little Alois, indeed, +was the richest child in the hamlet. She had neither brother nor sister; +her blue serge dress had never a hole in it; at kermess she had as many +gilded nuts and Agni Dei in sugar as her hands could hold; and when she +went up for her first communion her flaxen curls were covered with a +cap of richest Mechlin lace, which had been her mother's and her +grandmother's before it came to her. Men spoke already, though she had +but twelve years, of the good wife she would be for their sons to woo +and win; but she herself was a little gay, simple child, in no wise +conscious of her heritage, and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan +Daas's grandson and his dog. + +One day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on +a pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath +had that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amid the hay, +with the great tawny head of Patrasche on her lap, and many wreaths of +poppies and blue corn-flowers round them both; on a clean smooth slab of +pine wood the boy Nello drew their likeness with a stick of charcoal. + +The miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes--it +was so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well. +Then he roughly chid the little girl for idling there while her mother +needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid; then, +turning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. "Dost do much of such +folly?" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice. + +Nello coloured and hung his head. "I draw everything I see," he +murmured. + +The miller was silent; then he stretched his hand out with a franc in +it. "It is folly, as I say, and evil waste of time; nevertheless, it is +like Alois, and will please the house-mother. Take this silver bit for +it and leave it for me." + +The colour died out of the face of the young Ardennois; he lifted +his head and put his hands behind his back. "Keep your money and the +portrait both, Baas Cogez," he said, simply. "You have been often good +to me." Then he called Patrasche to him, and walked away across the +fields. + +"I could have seen them with that franc," he murmured to Patrasche, "but +I could not sell her picture--not even for them." + +Baas Cogez went into his mill-house sore troubled in his mind. "That +lad must not be so much with Alois," he said to his wife that night. +"Trouble may come of it hereafter; he is fifteen now, and she is twelve; +and the boy is comely of face and form." + +"And he is a good lad and a loyal," said the housewife, feasting her +eyes on the piece of pine wood where it was throned above the chimney +with a cuckoo clock in oak and a Calvary in wax. + +"Yea, I do not gainsay that," said the miller, draining his pewter +flagon. + +"Then, if what you think of were ever to come to pass," said the wife, +hesitatingly, "would it matter so much? She will have enough for both, +and one cannot be better than happy." + +"You are a woman, and therefore a fool," said the miller, harshly, +striking his pipe on the table. "The lad is naught but a beggar, and, +with these painter's fancies, worse than a beggar. Have a care that they +are not together in the future, or I will send the child to the surer +keeping of the nuns of the Sacred Heart." + +The poor mother was terrified, and promised humbly to do his will. Not +that she could bring herself altogether to separate the child from +her favorite playmate, nor did the miller even desire that extreme of +cruelty to a young lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But +there were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen +companion; and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive, +was quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of +Patrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to +the old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know; +he supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the +portrait of Alois in the meadow; and when the child who loved him would +run to him and nestle her hand in his, he would smile at her very sadly +and say with a tender concern for her before himself, "Nay, Alois, do +not anger your father. He thinks that I make you idle, dear, and he is +not pleased that you should be with me. He is a good man and loves you +well; we will not anger him, Alois." + +But it was with a sad heart that he said it, and the earth did not look +so bright to him as it had used to do when he went out at sunrise under +the poplars down the straight roads with Patrasche. The old red mill had +been a landmark to him, and he had been used to pause by it, going and +coming, for a cheery greeting with its people as her little flaxen head +rose above the low mill wicket, and her little rosy hands had held out +a bone or a crust to Patrasche. Now the dog looked wistfully at a closed +door, and the boy went on without pausing, with a pang at his heart, and +the child sat within with tears dropping slowly on the knitting to which +she was set on her little stool by the stove; and Baas Cogez, working +among his sacks and his mill-gear, would harden his will and say to +himself, "It is best so. The lad is all but a beggar, and full of idle, +dreaming fooleries. Who knows what mischief might not come of it in the +future?" So he was wise in his generation, and would not have the door +unbarred, except upon rare and formal occasions, which seemed to have +neither warmth nor mirth in them to the two children, who had been +accustomed so long to a daily gleeful, careless, happy interchange of +greeting, speech, and pastime, with no other watcher of their sports or +auditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells +of his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their +every change of mood. + +All this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney +in the mill kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary; and +sometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that while his gift was +accepted, he himself should be denied. + +But he did not complain; it was his habit to be quiet. Old Jehan Daas +had said ever to him, "We are poor; we must take what God sends--the ill +with the good; the poor cannot choose." + +To which the boy had always listened in silence, being reverent of his +old grandfather; but nevertheless a certain vague, sweet hope, such as +beguiles the children of genius, had whispered in his heart, "Yet the +poor do choose sometimes--choose to be great, so that men cannot say +them nay." And he thought so still in his innocence; and one day, when +the little Alois, finding him by chance alone among the corn-fields by +the canal, ran to him and held him close, and sobbed piteously because +the morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her +life her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in +the great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello +had kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, "It shall be different +one day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father +has of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut +the door against me then. Only love me always, dear little Alois; only +love me always, and I will be great." + +"And if I do not love you?" the pretty child asked, pouting a little +through her tears, and moved by the instinctive coquetries of her sex. + +Nello's eyes left her face and wandered to the distance, where, in the +red and gold of the Flemish night, the cathedral spire rose. There was a +smile on his face so sweet and yet so sad that little Alois was awed by +it. "I will be great still," he said under his breath--"great still, or +die, Alois." + +"You do not love me," said the little spoiled child, pushing him away; +but the boy shook his head and smiled, and went on his way through the +tall yellow corn, seeing as in a vision some day in a fair future when +he should come into that old familiar land and ask Alois of her people, +and be not refused or denied, but received in honour; while the village +folk should throng to look upon him and say in one another's ears, "Dost +see him? He is a king among men; for he is a great artist and the world +speaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a +beggar, as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog." +And he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and +portray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of +St. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a +collar of gold, and place him on his right hand, and say to the people, +"This was once my only friend;" and of how he would build himself a +great white marble palace, and make to himself luxuriant gardens of +pleasure, on the slope looking outward to where the cathedral spire +rose, and not dwell in it himself, but summon to it, as to a home, all +men young and poor and friendless, but of the will to do mighty things; +and of how he would say to them always, if they sought to bless his +name, "Nay, do not thank me--thank Rubens. Without him, what should I +have been?" And these dreams--beautiful, impossible, innocent, free of +all selfishness, full of heroical worship--were so closely about him as +he went that he was happy--happy even on this sad anniversary of Alois's +saint's day, when he and Patrasche went home by themselves to the little +dark hut and the meal of black bread, while in the mill-house all the +children of the village sang and laughed, and ate the big round cakes +of Dijon and the almond gingerbread of Brabant, and danced in the great +barn to the light of the stars and the music of flute and fiddle. + +"Never mind, Patrasche," he said, with his arms round the dog's neck, as +they both sat in the door of the hut, where the sounds of the mirth at +the mill came down to them on the night air; "never mind. It shall all +be changed by-and-by." + +He believed in the future; Patrasche, of more experience and of more +philosophy, thought that the loss of the mill supper in the present was +ill compensated by dreams of milk and honey in some vague hereafter. And +Patrasche growled whenever he passed by Baas Cogez. + +"This is Alois's name-day, is it not?" said the old man Daas that night, +from the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking. + +The boy gave a gesture of assent; he wished that the old man's memory +had erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account. + +"And why not there?" his grandfather pursued. "Thou hast never missed a +year before, Nello." + +"Thou art too sick to leave," murmured the lad, bending his handsome +head over the bed. + +"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does +scores of times. What is the cause, Nello?" the old man persisted. "Thou +surely hast not had ill words with the little one?" + +"Nay, grandfather, never," said the boy quickly, with a hot colour in +his bent face. "Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this +year. He has taken some whim against me." + +"But thou hast done nothing wrong?" + +"That I know--nothing. I took the portrait of Alois on a piece of pine; +that is all." + +"Ah!" The old man was silent; the truth suggested itself to him with +the boy's innocent answer. He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the +corner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of +the world were like. + +He drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture. +"Thou art very poor, my child," he said, with a quiver the more in his +aged, trembling voice; "so poor! It is very hard for thee." + +"Nay, I am rich," murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought so; +rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might of +kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet autumn +night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars bend and +shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were lighted, +and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The tears +fell down his cheeks, for he was but a child; yet he smiled, for he said +to himself, "In the future!" He stayed there until all was quite still +and dark; then he and Patrasche went within and slept together, long and +deeply, side by side. + +Now he had a secret which only Patrasche knew. There was a little +outhouse to the hut which no one entered but himself--a dreary place, +but with abundant clear light from the north. Here he had fashioned +himself rudely an easel in rough lumber, and here, on a great gray sea +of stretched paper, he had given shape to one of the innumerable fancies +which possessed his brain. No one had ever taught him anything; colours +he had no means to buy; he had gone without bread many a time to procure +even the few rude vehicles that he had here; and it was only in black or +white that he could fashion the things he saw. This great figure which +he had drawn here in chalk was only an old man sitting on a fallen +tree--only that. He had seen old Michel, the woodman, sitting so at +evening many a time. He had never had a soul to tell him of outline +or perspective, of anatomy or of shadow; and yet he had given all +the weary, worn-out age, all the sad, quiet patience, all the rugged, +care-worn pathos of his original, and given them so that the old, lonely +figure was a poem, sitting there meditative and alone, on the dead tree, +with the darkness of the descending night behind him. + +It was rude, of course, in a way, and had many faults, no doubt; and yet +it was real, true in nature, true in art, and very mournful, and in a +manner beautiful. + +Patrasche had lain quiet countless hours watching its gradual creation +after the labor of each day was done, and he knew that Nello had a +hope--vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this +great drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year +which it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent, +scholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with +some unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in +the town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according +to his merits. + +All the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this +treasure, which if triumphant, would build him his first step toward +independence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly, +and yet passionately adored. + +He said nothing to any one; his grandfather would not have understood, +and little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and +whispered, "Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew." + +Patrasche thought so too, for he knew that Rubens had loved dogs or he +had never painted them with such exquisite fidelity; and men who loved +dogs were, as Patrasche knew, always pitiful. + +The drawings were to go in on the first day of December, and the +decision be given on the twenty-fourth, so that he who should win might +rejoice with all his people at the Christmas season. + +In the twilight of a bitter wintry day, and with a beating heart, now +quick with hope, now faint with fear, Nello placed the great picture +on his little green milk-cart, and took it, with the help of Patrasche, +into the town, and there left it, as enjoined, at the doors of a public +building. + +"Perhaps it is worth nothing at all. How can I tell?" he thought, with +the heart-sickness of a great timidity. Now that he had left it there, +it seemed to him so hazardous, so vain, so foolish, to dream that he, a +little lad with bare feet who barely knew his letters, could do anything +at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to look. Yet he +took heart as he went by the cathedral; the lordly form of Rubens seemed +to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in its magnificence +before him, while the lips, with their kindly smile, seemed to him to +murmur, "Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart and by faint +fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp." + +Nello ran home through the cold night, comforted. He had done his +best; the rest must be as God willed, he thought, in that innocent, +unquestioning faith which had been taught him in the little gray chapel +among the willows and the poplar-trees. + +The winter was very sharp already. That night, after they reached the +hut, snow fell, and fell for very many days after that; so that the +paths and the divisions in the fields were all obliterated, and all +the smaller streams were frozen over, and the cold was intense upon the +plains. Then, indeed, it became hard work to go round for the milk while +the world was all dark, and carry it through the darkness to the silent +town. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years +that were only bringing Nello a stronger youth were bringing him old +age, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would +never give up his share of the labour. Nello would fain have spared him +and drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he +would ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the +truck as it lumbered along through the ice-ruts. Patrasche had lived in +harness, and he was proud of it. He suffered a great deal sometimes from +frost and the terrible roads and the rheumatic pains of his limbs; but +he only drew his breath hard and bent his stout neck, and trod onward +with steady patience. + +"Rest thee at home, Patrasche; it is time thou didst rest, and I can +quite well push in the cart by myself," urged Nello many a morning; but +Patrasche, who understood him aright, would no more have consented +to stay at home than a veteran soldier to shirk when the charge was +sounding; and every day he would rise and place himself in his shafts, +and plod along over the snow through the fields that his four round feet +had left their print upon so many, many years. + +"One must never rest till one dies," thought Patrasche; and sometimes it +seemed to him that that time of rest for him was not very far off. His +sight was less clear than it had been, and it gave him pain to rise +after the night's sleep, though he would never lie a moment in his straw +when once the bell of the chapel tolling five let him know that the +daybreak of labor had begun. + +"My poor Patrasche, we shall soon lie quiet together, you and I," said +old Jehan Daas, stretching out to stroke the head of Patrasche with the +old withered hand which had always shared with him its one poor crust of +bread; and the hearts of the old man and the old dog ached together with +one thought: When they were gone who would care for their darling? + +One afternoon, as they came back from Antwerp over the snow, which had +become hard and smooth as marble over all the Flemish plains, they found +dropped in the road a pretty little puppet, a tambourine player, all +scarlet and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages +when Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It +was a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought +that it was just the thing to please Alois. + +It was quite night when he passed the mill-house; he knew the little +window of her room; it could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her +his little piece of treasure-trove--they had been play-fellows so long. +There was a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement; he climbed it +and tapped softly at the lattice; there was a little light within. The +child opened it and looked out half frightened. + +Nello put the tambourine player into her hands. "Here is a doll I found +in the snow, Alois. Take it," he whispered; "take it, and God bless +thee, dear!" + +He slid down from the shed roof before she had time to thank him, and +ran off through the darkness. + +That night there was a fire at the mill. Out-buildings and much corn +were destroyed, although the mill itself and the dwelling-house were +unharmed. All the village was out in terror, and engines came tearing +through the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose +nothing; nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that +the fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent. + +Nello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest. Baas Cogez +thrust him angrily aside. "Thou wert loitering here after dark," he said +roughly. "I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of the fire +than any one." + +Nello heard him in silence, stupefied, not supposing that any one could +say such things except in jest, and not comprehending how any one could +pass a jest at such a time. + +Nevertheless, the miller said the brutal thing openly to many of his +neighbours in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was +ever preferred against the lad, it got bruited about that Nello had been +seen in the mill-yard after dark on some unspoken errand, and that he +bore Baas Cogez a grudge for forbidding his intercourse with little +Alois; and so the hamlet, which followed the sayings of its richest +landowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches +of Alois in some future time for their sons, took the hint to give grave +looks and cold words to old Jehan Daas's grandson. No one said anything +to him openly, but all the village agreed together to humour the +miller's prejudice, and at the cottages and farms where Nello and +Patrasche called every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast +glances and brief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful +greetings to which they had been always used. No one really credited the +miller's absurd suspicions, nor the outrageous accusations born of them; +but the people were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich +man of the place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and +his friendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide. + +"Thou art very cruel to the lad," the miller's wife dared to say, +weeping, to her lord. "Sure, he is an innocent lad and a faithful, and +would never dream of any such wickedness, however sore his heart might +be." + +But Baas Cogez being an obstinate man, having once said a thing, held +to it doggedly, though in his innermost soul he knew well the injustice +that he was committing. + +Meanwhile, Nello endured the injury done against him with a certain +proud patience that disdained to complain; he only gave way a little +when he was quite alone with old Patrasche. Besides, he thought, "If it +should win! They will be sorry then, perhaps." + +Still, to a boy not quite sixteen, and who had dwelt in one little world +all his short life, and in his childhood had been caressed and applauded +on all sides, it was a hard trial to have the whole of that little world +turn against him for naught. Especially hard in that bleak, snow-bound, +famine-stricken winter-time, when the only light and warmth there could +be found abode beside the village hearths and in the kindly greetings +of neighbours. In the winter-time all drew nearer to each other, all +to all, except to Nello and Patrasche, with whom none now would have +anything to do, and who were left to fare as they might with the old +paralyzed, bedridden man in the little cabin, whose fire was often low, +and whose board was often without bread; for there was a buyer from +Antwerp who had taken to drive his mule in of a day for the milk of the +various dairies, and there were only three or four of the people who had +refused his terms of purchase and remained faithful to the little green +cart. So that the burden which Patrasche drew had become very light, +and the centime pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small +likewise. + +The dog would stop, as usual, at all the familiar gates which were now +closed to him, and look up at them with wistful, mute appeal; and it +cost the neighbours a pang to shut their doors and their hearts, and let +Patrasche draw his cart on again, empty. Nevertheless, they did it, for +they desired to please Baas Cogez. + +Noel was close at hand. + +The weather was very wild and cold; the snow was six feet deep, and the +ice was firm enough to bear oxen and men upon it everywhere. At this +season the little village was always gay and cheerful. At the poorest +dwelling there were possets and cakes, joking and dancing, sugared +saints and gilded Jesus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on +the horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and +smoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing +maidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and +from the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold. + +Nello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week +before the Christmas Day, death entered there, and took away from life +forever old Jehan Daas, who had never known life aught save its poverty +and its pains. He had long been half dead, incapable of any movement +except a feeble gesture, and powerless for anything beyond a gentle +word; and yet his loss fell on them both with a great horror in it; they +mourned him passionately. He had passed away from them in his sleep, +and when in the gray dawn they learned their bereavement, unutterable +solitude and desolation seemed to close around them. He had long been +only a poor, feeble, paralyzed old man, who could not raise a hand in +their defence; but he had loved them well, his smile had always +welcomed their return. They mourned for him unceasingly, refusing to be +comforted, as in the white winter day they followed the deal shell that +held his body to the nameless grave by the little gray church. They were +his only mourners, these two whom he had left friendless upon earth--the +young boy and the old dog. + +"Surely, he will relent now and let the poor lad come hither?" thought +the miller's wife, glancing at her husband where he smoked by the +hearth. + +Baas Cogez knew her thought, but he hardened his heart, and would not +unbar his door as the little, humble funeral went by. "The boy is a +beggar," he said to himself; "he shall not be about Alois." + +The woman dared not say anything aloud, but when the grave was closed +and the mourners had gone, she put a wreath of immortelles into Alois's +hands and bade her go and lay it reverently on the dark, unmarked mound +where the snow was displaced. + +Nello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts. But even of that poor, +melancholy, cheerless home they were denied the consolation. There was a +month's rent overdue for their little home, and when Nello had paid the +last sad service to the dead he had not a coin left. He went and begged +grace of the owner of the hut, a cobbler who went every Sunday night +to drink his pint of wine and smoke with Baas Cogez. The cobbler would +grant no mercy. He was a harsh, miserly man, and loved money. He claimed +in default of his rent every stick and stone, every pot and pan, in the +hut, and bade Nello and Patrasche be out of it on the morrow. + +Now, the cabin was lowly enough, and in some sense miserable enough, and +yet their hearts clove to it with a great affection. They had been +so happy there, and in the summer, with its clambering vine and its +flowering beans, it was so pretty and bright in the midst of the +sun-lighted fields! Their life in it had been full of labor and +privation, and yet they had been so well content, so gay of heart, +running together to meet the old man's never-failing smile of welcome! + +All night long the boy and the dog sat by the fireless hearth in the +darkness, drawn close together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were +insensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them. + +When the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning +of Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only +friend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead. +"Let us go, Patrasche--dear, dear Patrasche," he murmured. "We will not +wait to be kicked out; let us go." + +Patrasche had no will but his, and they went sadly, side by side, out +from the little place which was so dear to them both, and in which every +humble, homely thing was to them precious and beloved. Patrasche drooped +his head wearily as he passed by his own green cart; it was no longer +his,--it had to go with the rest to pay the rent,--and his brass harness +lay idle and glittering on the snow. The dog could have lain down beside +it and died for very heart-sickness as he went, but while the lad lived +and needed him Patrasche would not yield and give way. + +They took the old accustomed road into Antwerp. The day had yet scarce +more than dawned; most of the shutters were still closed, but some of +the villagers were about. They took no notice while the dog and the boy +passed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within; +his grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbour's service to +the people who dwelt there. + +"Would you give Patrasche a crust?" he said, timidly. "He is old, and he +has had nothing since last forenoon." + +The woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat +and rye being very dear that season. The boy and the dog went on again +wearily; they asked no more. + +By slow and painful ways they reached Antwerp as the chimes tolled ten. + +"If I had anything about me I could sell to get him bread!" thought +Nello; but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that +covered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. + +Patrasche understood, and nestled his nose into the lad's hand as though +to pray him not to be disquieted for any woe or want of his. + +The winner of the drawing prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the +public building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On +the steps and in the entrance-hall there was a crowd of youths,--some of +his age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart +was sick with fear as he went among them holding Patrasche close to him. +The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with brazen +clamour. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager, panting +throng rushed in. It was known that the selected picture would be raised +above the rest upon a wooden dais. + +A mist obscured Nello's sight, his head swam, his limbs almost failed +him. When his vision cleared he saw the drawing raised on high; it was +not his own! A slow, sonorous voice was proclaiming aloud that victory +had been adjudged to Stephen Kiesslinger, born in the burg of Antwerp, +son of a wharfinger in that town. + +When Nello recovered his consciousness he was lying on the stones +without, and Patrasche was trying with every art he knew to call him +back to life. In the distance a throng of the youths of Antwerp were +shouting around their successful comrade, and escorting him with +acclamations to his home upon the quay. + +The boy staggered to his feet and drew the dog into his embrace. "It is +all over, dear Patrasche," he murmured--"all over!" + +He rallied himself as best he could, for he was weak from fasting, and +retraced his steps to the village. Patrasche paced by his side with his +head drooping and his old limbs feeble from hunger and sorrow. + +The snow was falling fast; a keen hurricane blew from the north; it +was bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the +familiar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they +approached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in +the snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of +brown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were +there stood a little Calvary, and a lamp burned dully under the cross; +the boy mechanically turned the case to the light; on it was the name of +Baas Cogez, and within it were notes for two thousand francs. + +The sight roused the lad a little from his stupor. He thrust it in his +shirt, and stroked Patrasche and drew him onward. The dog looked up +wistfully in his face. + +Nello made straight for the mill-house, and went to the house door and +struck on its panels. The miller's wife opened it weeping, with little +Alois clinging close to her skirts. "Is it thee, thou poor lad?" she +said kindly, through her tears. "Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee. +We are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money +that he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will +find it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own +judgment for the things we have done to thee." + +Nello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the +house. "Patrasche found the money to-night," he said quickly. "Tell Baas +Cogez so; I think he will not deny the dog shelter and food in his old +age. Keep him from pursuing me, and I pray of you to be good to him." + +Ere either woman or dog knew what he meant he had stooped and kissed +Patrasche, then closed the door hurriedly, and disappeared in the gloom +of the fast-falling night. + +The woman and the child stood speechless with joy and fear; Patrasche +vainly spent the fury of his anguish against the iron-bound oak of the +barred house door. They did not dare unbar the door and let him forth; +they tried all they could to solace him. They brought him sweet cakes +and juicy meats; they tempted him with the best they had; they tried to +lure him to abide by the warmth of the hearth; but it was of no avail. +Patrasche refused to be comforted or to stir from the barred portal. + +It was six o'clock when from an opposite entrance the miller at last +came, jaded and broken, into his wife's presence. "It is lost forever," +he said, with an ashen cheek and a quiver in his stern voice. "We have +looked with lanterns everywhere; it is gone--the little maiden's portion +and all!" + +His wife put the money into his hand, and told him how it had come to +her. The strong man sank trembling into a seat and covered his face, +ashamed and almost afraid. "I have been cruel to the lad," he muttered +at length; "I deserved not to have good at his hands." + +Little Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled +against him her fair curly head. "Nello may come here again, father?" +she whispered. "He may come to-morrow as he used to do?" + +The miller pressed her in his arms; his hard, sunburnt face was very +pale and his mouth trembled. "Surely, surely," he answered his child. +"He shall bide here on Christmas Day, and any other day he will. God +helping me, I will make amends to the boy--I will make amends." + +Little Alois kissed him in gratitude and joy; then slid from his knees +and ran to where the dog kept watch by the door. "And to-night I may +feast Patrasche?" she cried in a child's thoughtless glee. + +Her father bent his head gravely: "Ay, ay! let the dog have the best;" +for the stern old man was moved and shaken to his heart's depths. + +It was Christmas eve, and the mill-house was filled with oak logs and +squares of turf, with cream and honey, with meat and bread, and the +rafters were hung with wreaths of evergreen, and the Calvary and the +cuckoo clock looked out from a mass of holly. There were little paper +lanterns, too, for Alois, and toys of various fashions and sweetmeats +in bright-pictured papers. There were light and warmth and abundance +everywhere, and the child would fain have made the dog a guest honoured +and feasted. + +But Patrasche would neither lie in the warmth nor share in the cheer. +Famished he was and very cold, but without Nello he would partake +neither of comfort nor food. Against all temptation he was proof, and +close against the door he leaned always, watching only for a means of +escape. + +"He wants the lad," said Baas Cogez. "Good dog! good dog! I will go over +to the lad the first thing at day-dawn." For no one but Patrasche knew +that Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello +had gone to face starvation and misery alone. + +The mill kitchen was very warm; great logs crackled and flamed on the +hearth; neighbours came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat +goose baking for supper. Alois, gleeful and sure of her playmate back +on the morrow, bounded and sang and tossed back her yellow hair. Baas +Cogez, in the fulness of his heart, smiled on her through moistened +eyes, and spoke of the way in which he would befriend her favourite +companion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the +spinning-wheel; the cuckoo in the clock chirped mirthful hours. Amidst +it all Patrasche was bidden with a thousand words of welcome to tarry +there a cherished guest. But neither peace nor plenty could allure him +where Nello was not. + +When the supper smoked on the board, and the voices were loudest +and gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois, +Patrasche, watching always an occasion, glided out when the door was +unlatched by a careless new-comer, and, as swiftly as his weak and tired +limbs would bear him sped over the snow in the bitter, black night. He +had only one thought--to follow Nello. A human friend might have paused +for the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that +was not the friendship of Patrasche. He remembered a bygone time, when +an old man and a little child had found him sick unto death in the +wayside ditch. + +Snow had fallen freshly all the evening long; it was now nearly ten; the +trail of the boy's footsteps was almost obliterated. It took Patrasche +long to discover any scent. When at last he found it, it was lost again +quickly, and lost and recovered, and again lost and again recovered, a +hundred times or more. + +The night was very wild. The lamps under the wayside crosses were blown +out; the roads were sheets of ice; the impenetrable darkness hid every +trace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle +were housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced +and feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold--old and +famished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a +great love to sustain him in his search. + +The trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new +snow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was +past midnight when Patrasche traced it over the boundaries of the town +and into the narrow, tortuous, gloomy streets. It was all quite dark in +the town, save where some light gleamed ruddily through the crevices +of house shutters, or some group went homeward with lanterns chanting +drinking-songs. The streets were all white with ice; the high walls and +roofs loomed black against them. There was scarce a sound save the riot +of the winds down the passages as they tossed the creaking signs and +shook the tall lamp-irons. + +So many passers-by had trodden through and through the snow, so many +diverse paths had crossed and recrossed each other, that the dog had a +hard task to retain any hold on the track he followed. But he kept on +his way, though the cold pierced him to the bone, and the jagged ice cut +his feet, and the hunger in his body gnawed like a rat's teeth. He kept +on his way,--a poor gaunt, shivering thing,--and by long patience traced +the steps he loved into the very heart of the burg and up to the steps +of the great cathedral. + +"He is gone to the things that he loved," thought Patrasche; he could +not understand, but he was full of sorrow and of pity for the art +passion that to him was so incomprehensible and yet so sacred. + +The portals of the cathedral were unclosed after the midnight mass. Some +heedlessness in the custodians, too eager to go home and feast or sleep, +or too drowsy to know whether they turned the keys aright, had left one +of the doors unlocked. By that accident the footfalls Patrasche sought +had passed through into the building, leaving the white marks of snow +upon the dark stone floor. By that slender white thread, frozen as it +fell, he was guided through the intense silence, through the immensity +of the vaulted space--guided straight to the gates of the chancel, +and, stretched there upon the stones, he found Nello. He crept up, +and touched the face of the boy. "Didst thou dream that I should be +faithless and forsake thee? I--a dog?" said that mute caress. + +The lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close. "Let us lie +down and die together," he murmured. "Men have no need of us, and we are +all alone." + +In answer, Patrasche crept closer yet, and laid his head upon the young +boy's breast. The great tears stood in his brown, sad eyes; not for +himself--for himself he was happy. + +They lay close together in the piercing cold. The blasts that blew over +the Flemish dikes from the northern seas were like waves of ice, which +froze every living thing they touched. The interior of the immense +vault of stone in which they were was even more bitterly chill than the +snow-covered plains without. Now and then a bat moved in the shadows; +now and then a gleam of light came on the ranks of carven figures. Under +the Rubens they lay together quite still, and soothed almost into a +dreaming slumber by the numbing narcotic of the cold. Together they +dreamed of the old glad days when they had chased each other through +the flowering grasses of the summer meadows, or sat hidden in the tall +bulrushes by the water's side, watching the boats go seaward in the sun. + +Suddenly through the darkness a great white radiance streamed through +the vastness of the aisles; the moon, that was at her height, had broken +through the clouds; the snow had ceased to fall; the light reflected +from the snow without was clear as the light of dawn. It fell through +the arches full upon the two pictures above, from which the boy on his +entrance had flung back the veil: the "Elevation" and the "Descent of +the Cross" were for one instant visible. + +Nello rose to his feet and stretched his arms to them; the tears of a +passionate ecstasy glistened on the paleness of his face. "I have seen +them at last!" he cried aloud. "O God, it is enough!" + +His limbs failed under him, and he sank upon his knees, still gazing +upward at the majesty that he adored. For a few brief moments the light +illumined the divine visions that had been denied to him so long--light +clear and sweet and strong as though it streamed from the throne of +Heaven. Then suddenly it passed away; once more a great darkness covered +the face of Christ. + +The arms of the boy drew close again the body of the dog. "We shall see +His face--_there_," he murmured; "and He will not part us, I think." + +On the morrow, by the chancel of the cathedral, the people of Antwerp +found them both. They were both dead; the cold of the night had frozen +into stillness alike the young life and the old. When the Christmas +morning broke and the priests came to the temple, they saw them lying +thus on the stones together. Above, the veils were drawn back from the +great visions of Rubens, and the fresh rays of the sunrise touched the +thorn-crowned head of the Christ. + +As the day grew on there came an old, hard-featured man who wept as +women weep. "I was cruel to the lad," he muttered; "and now I would have +made amends,--yea, to the half of my substance,--and he should have been +to me as a son." + +There came also, as the day grew apace, a painter who had fame in the +world, and who was liberal of hand and of spirit. "I seek one who should +have had the prize yesterday had worth won," he said to the people--"a +boy of rare promise and genius. An old wood-cutter on a fallen tree at +eventide--that was all his theme; but there was greatness for the future +in it. I would fain find him, and take him with me and teach him art." + +And a little child with curling fair hair, sobbing bitterly as she clung +to her father's arm, cried aloud, "Oh, Nello, come! We have all ready +for thee. The Christ-child's hands are full of gifts, and the old piper +will play for us; and the mother says thou shalt stay by the hearth and +burn nuts with us all the Noel week long--yes, even to the Feast of the +Kings! And Patrasche will be so happy! Oh, Nello, wake and come!" + +But the young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens +with a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, "It is too late." + +For the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the +sunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and +glad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity +at their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden. + +Death had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It +had taken the one in the loyalty of love, and the other in the innocence +of faith, from a world which for love has no recompense and for faith no +fulfilment. + +All their lives they had been together, and in their deaths they were +not divided; for when they were found the arms of the boy were folded +too closely around the dog to be severed without violence, and the +people of their little village, contrite and ashamed, implored a special +grace for them, and, making them one grave, laid them to rest there side +by side--forever! + + + + +MARKHEIM, by Robert Louis Stevenson + + +"Yes," said the dealer, "our windfalls are of various kinds. Some +customers are ignorant, and then I touch a dividend on my superior +knowledge. Some are dishonest," and here he held up the candle, so +that the light fell strongly on his visitor, "and in that case," he +continued, "I profit by my virtue." + +Markheim had but just entered from the daylight streets, and his eyes +had not yet grown familiar with the mingled shine and darkness in the +shop. At these pointed words, and before the near presence of the flame, +he blinked painfully and looked aside. + +The dealer chuckled. "You come to me on Christmas Day," he resumed, +"when you know that I am alone in my house, put up my shutters, and make +a point of refusing business. Well, you will have to pay for that; you +will have to pay for my loss of time, when I should be balancing my +books; you will have to pay, besides, for a kind of manner that I remark +in you to-day very strongly. I am the essence of discretion, and ask no +awkward questions; but when a customer cannot look me in the eye, he has +to pay for it." The dealer once more chuckled; and then, changing to his +usual business voice, though still with a note of irony, "You can give, +as usual, a clear account of how you came into the possession of +the object?" he continued. "Still your uncle's cabinet? A remarkable +collector, sir!" + +And the little pale, round-shouldered dealer stood almost on tip-toe, +looking over the top of his gold spectacles, and nodding his head with +every mark of disbelief. Markheim returned his gaze with one of infinite +pity, and a touch of horror. + +"This time," said he, "you are in error. I have not come to sell, but to +buy. I have no curios to dispose of; my uncle's cabinet is bare to +the wainscot; even were it still intact, I have done well on the Stock +Exchange, and should more likely add to it than otherwise, and my errand +to-day is simplicity itself. I seek a Christmas present for a lady," +he continued, waxing more fluent as he struck into the speech he had +prepared; "and certainly I owe you every excuse for thus disturbing you +upon so small a matter. But the thing was neglected yesterday; I must +produce my little compliment at dinner; and, as you very well know, a +rich marriage is not a thing to be neglected." + +There followed a pause, during which the dealer seemed to weigh this +statement incredulously. The ticking of many clocks among the curious +lumber of the shop, and the faint rushing of the cabs in a near +thoroughfare, filled up the interval of silence. + +"Well, sir," said the dealer, "be it so. You are an old customer after +all; and if, as you say, you have the chance of a good marriage, far be +it from me to be an obstacle. Here is a nice thing for a lady now," he +went on, "this hand-glass--fifteenth century, warranted; comes from a +good collection, too; but I reserve the name, in the interests of my +customer, who was just like yourself, my dear sir, the nephew and sole +heir of a remarkable collector." + +The dealer, while he thus ran on in his dry and biting voice, had +stooped to take the object from its place; and, as he had done so, a +shock had passed through Markheim, a start both of hand and foot, +a sudden leap of many tumultuous passions to the face. It passed as +swiftly as it came, and left no trace beyond a certain trembling of the +hand that now received the glass. + +"A glass," he said hoarsely, and then paused, and repeated it more +clearly. "A glass? For Christmas? Surely not?" + +"And why not?" cried the dealer. "Why not a glass?" + +Markheim was looking upon him with an indefinable expression. "You ask +me why not?" he said. "Why, look here--look in it--look at yourself! Do +you like to see it? No! nor I--nor any man." + +The little man had jumped back when Markheim had so suddenly confronted +him with the mirror; but now, perceiving there was nothing worse +on hand, he chuckled. "Your future lady, sir, must be pretty hard +favoured," said he. + +"I ask you," said Markheim, "for a Christmas present, and you give +me this--this damned reminder of years, and sins and follies--this +hand-conscience! Did you mean it? Had you a thought in your mind? Tell +me. It will be better for you if you do. Come, tell me about yourself. I +hazard a guess now, that you are in secret a very charitable man." + +The dealer looked closely at his companion. It was very odd, Markheim +did not appear to be laughing; there was something in his face like an +eager sparkle of hope, but nothing of mirth. + +"What are you driving at?" the dealer asked. + +"Not charitable?" returned the other, gloomily. "Not charitable; not +pious; not scrupulous; unloving, unbeloved; a hand to get money, a safe +to keep it. Is that all? Dear God, man, is that all?" + +"I will tell you what it is," began the dealer, with some sharpness, and +then broke off again into a chuckle. "But I see this is a love match of +yours, and you have been drinking the lady's health." + +"Ah!" cried Markheim, with a strange curiosity. "Ah, have you been in +love? Tell me about that." + +"I," cried the dealer. "I in love! I never had the time, nor have I the +time to-day for all this nonsense. Will you take the glass?" + +"Where is the hurry?" returned Markheim. "It is very pleasant to stand +here talking; and life is so short and insecure that I would not hurry +away from any pleasure--no, not even from so mild a one as this. We +should rather cling, cling to what little we can get, like a man at a +cliff's edge. Every second is a cliff, if you think upon it--a cliff a +mile high--high enough, if we fall, to dash us out of every feature +of humanity. Hence it is best to talk pleasantly. Let us talk of each +other; why should we wear this mask? Let us be confidential. Who knows? +we might become friends." + +"I have just one word to say to you," said the dealer. "Either make your +purchase, or walk out of my shop." + +"True, true," said Markheim. "Enough fooling. To business. Show me +something else." + +The dealer stooped once more, this time to replace the glass upon the +shelf, his thin blond hair falling over his eyes as he did so. Markheim +moved a little nearer, with one hand in the pocket of his greatcoat; he +drew himself up and filled his lungs; at the same time many different +emotions were depicted together on his face--terror, horror, and +resolve, fascination and a physical repulsion; and through a haggard +lift of his upper lip, his teeth looked out. + +"This, perhaps, may suit," observed the dealer. And then, as he began +to rearise, Markheim bounded from behind upon his victim. The long, +skewer-like dagger flashed and fell. The dealer struggled like a hen, +striking his temple on the shelf, and then tumbled on the floor in a +heap. + +Time had some score of small voices in that shop--some stately and slow +as was becoming to their great age; others garrulous and hurried. All +these told out the seconds in an intricate chorus of tickings. Then the +passage of a lad's feet, heavily running on the pavement, broke in upon +these smaller voices and startled Markheim into the consciousness of +his surroundings. He looked about him awfully. The candle stood on +the counter, its flame solemnly wagging in a draught; and by that +inconsiderable movement the whole room was filled with noiseless bustle +and kept heaving like a sea: the tall shadows nodding, the gross blots +of darkness swelling and dwindling as with respiration, the faces of the +portraits and the china gods changing and wavering like images in water. +The inner door stood ajar, and peered into that leaguer of shadows with +a long slit of daylight like a pointing finger. + +From these fear-stricken rovings, Markheim's eyes returned to the body +of his victim, where it lay, both humped and sprawling, incredibly small +and strangely meaner than in life. In these poor, miserly clothes, in +that ungainly attitude, the dealer lay like so much sawdust. Markheim +had feared to see it, and, lo! it was nothing. And yet, as he gazed, +this bundle of old clothes and pool of blood began to find eloquent +voices. There it must lie; there was none to work the cunning hinges or +direct the miracle of locomotion; there it must lie till it was found. +Found! ay, and then? Then would this dead flesh lift up a cry that would +ring over England, and fill the world with the echoes of pursuit. Ay, +dead or not, this was still the enemy. "Time was that when the brains +were out," he thought; and the first word struck into his mind. Time, +now that the deed was accomplished--time, which had closed for the +victim, had become instant and momentous for the slayer. + +The thought was yet in his mind, when, first one and then another, with +every variety of pace and voice--one deep as the bell from a cathedral +turret, another ringing on its treble notes the prelude of a waltz,--the +clocks began to strike the hour of three in the afternoon. + +The sudden outbreak of so many tongues in that dumb chamber staggered +him. He began to bestir himself, going to and fro with the candle, +beleaguered by moving shadows, and startled to the soul by chance +reflections. In many rich mirrors, some of home design, some from Venice +or Amsterdam, he saw his face repeated and repeated, as it were an army +of spies; his own eyes met and detected him; and the sound of his own +steps, lightly as they fell, vexed the surrounding quiet. And still, as +he continued to fill his pockets, his mind accused him with a sickening +iteration, of the thousand faults of his design. He should have chosen +a more quiet hour; he should have prepared an alibi; he should not have +used a knife; he should have been more cautious, and only bound and +gagged the dealer, and not killed him; he should have been more bold, +and killed the servant also; he should have done all things otherwise. +Poignant regrets, weary, incessant toiling of the mind to change what +was unchangeable, to plan what was now useless, to be the architect of +the irrevocable past. Meanwhile, and behind all this activity, brute +terrors, like the scurrying of rats in a deserted attic, filled the more +remote chambers of his brain with riot; the hand of the constable would +fall heavy on his shoulder, and his nerves would jerk like a hooked +fish; or he beheld, in galloping defile, the dock, the prison, the +gallows, and the black coffin. + +Terror of the people in the street sat down before his mind like a +besieging army. It was impossible, he thought, but that some rumour +of the struggle must have reached their ears and set on edge their +curiosity; and now, in all the neighbouring houses, he divined them +sitting motionless and with uplifted ear--solitary people, condemned +to spend Christmas dwelling alone on memories of the past, and now +startingly recalled from that tender exercise; happy family parties +struck into silence round the table, the mother still with raised +finger--every degree and age and humour, but all, by their own hearths, +prying and hearkening and weaving the rope that was to hang him. +Sometimes it seemed to him he could not move too softly; the clink of +the tall Bohemian goblets rang out loudly like a bell; and alarmed by +the bigness of the ticking, he was tempted to stop the clocks. And then, +again, with a swift transition of his terrors, the very silence of the +place appeared a source of peril, and a thing to strike and freeze the +passer-by; and he would step more boldly, and bustle aloud among the +contents of the shop, and imitate, with elaborate bravado, the movements +of a busy man at ease in his own house. + +But he was now so pulled about by different alarms that, while one +portion of his mind was still alert and cunning, another trembled on the +brink of lunacy. One hallucination in particular took a strong hold +on his credulity. The neighbour hearkening with white face beside +his window, the passer-by arrested by a horrible surmise on the +pavement--these could at worst suspect, they could not know; through the +brick walls and shuttered windows only sounds could penetrate. But +here, within the house, was he alone? He knew he was; he had watched the +servant set forth sweet-hearting, in her poor best, "out for the day" +written in every ribbon and smile. Yes, he was alone, of course; and +yet, in the bulk of empty house above him, he could surely hear a stir +of delicate footing; he was surely conscious, inexplicably conscious +of some presence. Ay, surely; to every room and corner of the house his +imagination followed it; and now it was a faceless thing, and yet had +eyes to see with; and again it was a shadow of himself; and yet again +behold the image of the dead dealer, reinspired with cunning and hatred. + +At times, with a strong effort, he would glance at the open door which +still seemed to repel his eyes. The house was tall, the skylight small +and dirty, the day blind with fog; and the light that filtered down +to the ground story was exceedingly faint, and showed dimly on the +threshold of the shop. And yet, in that strip of doubtful brightness, +did there not hang wavering a shadow? + +Suddenly, from the street outside, a very jovial gentleman began to beat +with a staff on the shop door, accompanying his blows with shouts and +railleries in which the dealer was continually called upon by name. +Markheim, smitten into ice, glanced at the dead man. But no! he lay +quite still; he was fled away far beyond earshot of these blows and +shoutings; he was sunk beneath seas of silence; and his name, which +would once have caught his notice above the howling of a storm, had +become an empty sound. And presently the jovial gentleman desisted from +his knocking and departed. + +Here was a broad hint to hurry what remained to be done, to get forth +from this accusing neighbourhood, to plunge into a bath of London +multitudes, and to reach, on the other side of day, that haven of safety +and apparent innocence--his bed. One visitor had come; at any moment +another might follow and be more obstinate. To have done the deed, +and yet not to reap the profit, would be too abhorrent a failure. The +money--that was now Markheim's concern; and as a means to that, the +keys. + +He glanced over his shoulder at the open door, where the shadow was +still lingering and shivering; and with no conscious repugnance of +the mind, yet with a tremor of the belly, he drew near the body of his +victim. The human character had quite departed. Like a suit half-stuffed +with bran, the limbs lay scattered, the trunk doubled, on the floor; and +yet the thing repelled him. Although so dingy and inconsiderable to the +eye, he feared it might have more significance to the touch. He took the +body by the shoulders, and turned it on its back. It was strangely light +and supple, and the limbs, as if they had been broken, fell into the +oddest postures. The face was robbed of all expression; but it was as +pale as wax, and shockingly smeared with blood about one temple. That +was, for Markheim, the one displeasing circumstance. It carried him +back, upon the instant, to a certain fair-day in a fishers' village: a +gray day, a piping wind, a crowd upon the street, the blare of brasses, +the booming of drums, the nasal voice of a ballad singer; and a boy +going to and fro, buried overhead in the crowd and divided between +interest and fear, until, coming out upon the chief place of concourse, +he beheld a booth and a great screen with pictures, dismally designed, +garishly coloured--Brownrigg with her apprentice, the Mannings with +their murdered guest, Weare in the death-grip of Thurtell, and a score +besides of famous crimes. The thing was as clear as an illusion He was +once again that little boy; he was looking once again, and with the same +sense of physical revolt, at these vile pictures; he was still stunned +by the thumping of the drums. A bar of that day's music returned upon +his memory; and at that, for the first time, a qualm came over him, +a breath of nausea, a sudden weakness of the joints, which he must +instantly resist and conquer. + +He judged it more prudent to confront than to flee from these +considerations, looking the more hardily in the dead face, bending his +mind to realise the nature and greatness of his crime. So little a while +ago that face had moved with every change of sentiment, that pale mouth +had spoken, that body had been all on fire with governable energies; +and now, and by his act, that piece of life had been arrested, as the +horologist, with interjected finger, arrests the beating of the +clock. So he reasoned in vain; he could rise to no more remorseful +consciousness; the same heart which had shuddered before the painted +effigies of crime, looked on its reality unmoved. At best, he felt +a gleam of pity for one who had been endowed in vain with all those +faculties that can make the world a garden of enchantment, one who had +never lived and who was now dead. But of penitence, no, not a tremor. + +With that, shaking himself clear of these considerations, he found the +keys and advanced toward the open door of the shop. Outside, it had +begun to rain smartly, and the sound of the shower upon the roof had +banished silence. Like some dripping cavern, the chambers of the house +were haunted by an incessant echoing, which filled the ear and mingled +with the ticking of the clocks. And, as Markheim approached the door, +he seemed to hear, in answer to his own cautious tread, the steps of +another foot withdrawing up the stair. The shadow still palpitated +loosely on the threshold. He threw a ton's weight of resolve upon his +muscles, and drew back the door. + +The faint, foggy daylight glimmered dimly on the bare floor and stairs; +on the bright suit of armour posted, halbert in hand, upon the landing; +and on the dark wood-carvings, and framed pictures that hung against +the yellow panels of the wainscot. So loud was the beating of the +rain through all the house that, in Markheim's ears, it began to be +distinguished into many different sounds. Footsteps and sighs, the +tread of regiments marching in the distance, the chink of money in the +counting, and the creaking of doors held stealthily ajar, appeared to +mingle with the patter of the drops upon the cupola and the gushing of +the water in the pipes. The sense that he was not alone grew upon him +to the verge of madness. On every side he was haunted and begirt by +presences. He heard them moving in the upper chambers; from the shop, +he heard the dead man getting to his legs; and as he began with a great +effort to mount the stairs, feet fled quietly before him and followed +stealthily behind. If he were but deaf, he thought, how tranquilly he +would possess his soul! And then again, and hearkening with ever fresh +attention, he blessed himself for that unresting sense which held the +outposts and stood a trusty sentinel upon his life. His head turned +continually on his neck; his eyes, which seemed starting from their +orbits, scouted on every side, and on every side were half rewarded as +with the tail of something nameless vanishing. The four and twenty steps +to the first floor were four and twenty agonies. + +On that first story, the doors stood ajar--three of them, like three +ambushes, shaking his nerves like the throats of cannon. He could +never again, he felt, be sufficiently immured and fortified from men's +observing eyes; he longed to be home, girt in by walls, buried among +bedclothes, and invisible to all but God. And at that thought he +wondered a little, recollecting tales of other murderers and the fear +they were said to entertain of heavenly avengers. It was not so, at +least, with him. He feared the laws of nature, lest, in their callous +and immutable procedure, they should preserve some damning evidence of +his crime. He feared tenfold more, with a slavish, superstitious +terror, some scission in the continuity of man's experience, some wilful +illegality of nature. He played a game of skill, depending on the rules, +calculating consequence from cause; and what if nature, as the defeated +tyrant overthrew the chess-board, should break the mould of their +succession? The like had befallen Napoleon (so writers said) when +the winter changed the time of its appearance. The like might befall +Markheim: the solid walls might become transparent and reveal his doings +like those of bees in a glass hive; the stout planks might yield under +his foot like quicksands and detain him in their clutch. Ay, and there +were soberer accidents that might destroy him; if, for instance, the +house should fall and imprison him beside the body of his victim, or the +house next door should fly on fire, and the firemen invade him from all +sides. These things he feared; and, in a sense, these things might be +called the hands of God reached forth against sin. But about God himself +he was at ease; his act was doubtless exceptional, but so were his +excuses, which God knew; it was there, and not among men, that he felt +sure of justice. + +When he had got safe into the drawing-room, and shut the door behind +him, he was aware of a respite from alarms. The room was quite +dismantled, uncarpeted besides, and strewn with packing-cases and +incongruous furniture; several great pier-glasses, in which he beheld +himself at various angles, like an actor on a stage; many pictures, +framed and unframed, standing, with their faces to the wall; a fine +Sheraton sideboard, a cabinet of marquetry, and a great old bed, with +tapestry hangings. The windows opened to the floor; but by great +good fortune the lower part of the shutters had been closed, and this +concealed him from the neighbours. Here, then, Markheim drew in a +packing-case before the cabinet, and began to search among the keys. It +was a long business, for there were many; and it was irksome, besides; +for, after all, there might be nothing in the cabinet, and time was on +the wing. But the closeness of the occupation sobered him. With the +tail of his eye he saw the door--even glanced at it from time to time +directly, like a besieged commander pleased to verify the good estate +of his defences. But in truth he was at peace. The rain falling in the +street sounded natural and pleasant. Presently, on the other side, the +notes of a piano were wakened to the music of a hymn, and the voices of +many children took up the air and words. How stately, how comfortable +was the melody! How fresh the youthful voices! Markheim gave ear to it +smilingly, as he sorted out the keys; and his mind was thronged with +answerable ideas and images: church-going children, and the pealing of +the high organ; children afield, bathers by the brookside, ramblers on +the brambly common, kite-flyers in the windy and cloud-navigated sky; +and then, at another cadence of the hymn, back again to church, and the +somnolence of summer Sundays, and the high genteel voice of the parson +(which he smiled a little to recall) and the painted Jacobean tombs, and +the dim lettering of the Ten Commandments in the chancel. + +And as he sat thus, at once busy and absent, he was startled to his +feet. A flash of ice, a flash of fire, a bursting gush of blood, went +over him, and then he stood transfixed and thrilling. A step mounted the +stair slowly and steadily, and presently a hand was laid upon the knob, +and the lock clicked, and the door opened. + +Fear held Markheim in a vice. What to expect he knew not--whether the +dead man walking, or the official ministers of human justice, or some +chance witness blindly stumbling in to consign him to the gallows. But +when a face was thrust into the aperture, glanced round the room, +looked at him, nodded and smiled as if in friendly recognition, and then +withdrew again, and the door closed behind it, his fear broke loose from +his control in a hoarse cry. At the sound of this the visitant returned. + +"Did you call me?" he asked, pleasantly, and with that he entered the +room and closed the door behind him. + +Markheim stood and gazed at him with all his eyes. Perhaps there was a +film upon his sight, but the outlines of the new comer seemed to change +and waver like those of the idols in the wavering candle-light of the +shop; and at times he thought he knew him; and at times he thought he +bore a likeness to himself; and always, like a lump of living terror, +there lay in his bosom the conviction that this thing was not of the +earth and not of God. + +And yet the creature had a strange air of the commonplace, as he stood +looking on Markheim with a smile; and when he added, "You are looking +for the money, I believe?" it was in the tones of everyday politeness. + +Markheim made no answer. + +"I should warn you," resumed the other, "that the maid has left her +sweetheart earlier than usual and will soon be here. If Mr. Markheim be +found in this house, I need not describe to him the consequences." + +"You know me?" cried the murderer. + +The visitor smiled. "You have long been a favourite of mine," he said; +"and I have long observed and often sought to help you." + +"What are you?" cried Markheim; "the devil?" + +"What I may be," returned the other, "cannot affect the service I +propose to render you." + +"It can," cried Markheim; "it does! Be helped by you? No, never; not by +you! You do not know me yet; thank God, you do not know me!" + +"I know you," replied the visitant, with a sort of kind severity or +rather firmness. "I know you to the soul." + +"Know me!" cried Markheim. "Who can do so? My life is but a travesty and +slander on myself. I have lived to belie my nature. All men do; all men +are better than this disguise that grows about and stifles them. You see +each dragged away by life, like one whom bravos have seized and muffled +in a cloak. If they had their own control--if you could see their faces, +they would be altogether different, they would shine out for heroes +and saints! I am worse than most; myself is more overlaid; my excuse is +known to me and God. But, had I the time, I could disclose myself." + +"To me?" inquired the visitant. + +"To you before all," returned the murderer. "I supposed you were +intelligent. I thought--since you exist--you would prove a reader of the +heart. And yet you would propose to judge me by my acts! Think of it--my +acts! I was born and I have lived in a land of giants; giants have +dragged me by the wrists since I was born out of my mother--the giants +of circumstance. And you would judge me by my acts! But can you not look +within? Can you not understand that evil is hateful to me? Can you not +see within me the clear writing of conscience, never blurred by any +wilful sophistry, although too often disregarded? Can you not read +me for a thing that surely must be common as humanity--the unwilling +sinner?" + +"All this is very feelingly expressed," was the reply, "but it regards +me not. These points of consistency are beyond my province, and I care +not in the least by what compulsion you may have been dragged away, +so as you are but carried in the right direction. But time flies; the +servant delays, looking in the faces of the crowd and at the pictures on +the hoardings, but still she keeps moving nearer; and remember, it is +as if the gallows itself was striding towards you through the Christmas +streets! Shall I help you--I, who know all? Shall I tell you where to +find the money?" + +"For what price?" asked Markheim. + +"I offer you the service for a Christmas gift," returned the other. + +Markheim could not refrain from smiling with a kind of bitter triumph. +"No," said he, "I will take nothing at your hands; if I were dying of +thirst, and it was your hand that put the pitcher to my lips, I should +find the courage to refuse. It may be credulous, but I will do nothing +to commit myself to evil." + +"I have no objection to a death-bed repentance," observed the visitant. + +"Because you disbelieve their efficacy!" Markheim cried. + +"I do not say so," returned the other; "but I look on these things from +a different side, and when the life is done my interest falls. The man +has lived to serve me, to spread black looks under colour of religion, +or to sow tares in the wheat-field, as you do, in a course of weak +compliance with desire. Now that he draws so near to his deliverance, he +can add but one act of service: to repent, to die smiling, and thus +to build up in confidence and hope the more timorous of my surviving +followers. I am not so hard a master. Try me; accept my help. Please +yourself in life as you have done hitherto; please yourself more amply, +spread your elbows at the board; and when the night begins to fall and +the curtains to be drawn, I tell you, for your greater comfort, that you +will find it even easy to compound your quarrel with your conscience, +and to make a truckling peace with God. I came but now from such a +death-bed, and the room was full of sincere mourners, listening to the +man's last words; and when I looked into that face, which had been set +as a flint against mercy, I found it smiling with hope." + +"And do you, then, suppose me such a creature?" asked Markheim. "Do you +think I have no more generous aspirations than to sin and sin and sin +and at last sneak into heaven? My heart rises at the thought. Is this, +then, your experience of mankind? or is it because you find me with red +hands that you presume such baseness? And is this crime of murder indeed +so impious as to dry up the very springs of good?" + +"Murder is to me no special category," replied the other. "All sins +are murder, even as all life is war. I behold your race, like starving +mariners on a raft, plucking crusts out of the hands of famine and +feeding on each other's lives. I follow sins beyond the moment of their +acting; I find in all that the last consequence is death, and to my +eyes, the pretty maid who thwarts her mother with such taking graces on +a question of a ball, drips no less visibly with human gore than such +a murderer as yourself. Do I say that I follow sins? I follow virtues +also. They differ not by the thickness of a nail; they are both scythes +for the reaping angel of Death. Evil, for which I live, consists not +in action but in character. The bad man is dear to me, not the bad +act, whose fruits, if we could follow them far enough down the hurtling +cataract of the ages, might yet be found more blessed than those of +the rarest virtues. And it is not because you have killed a dealer, but +because you are Markheim, that I offer to forward your escape." + +"I will lay my heart open to you," answered Markheim. "This crime +on which you find me is my last. On my way to it I have learned many +lessons; itself is a lesson--a momentous lesson. Hitherto I have been +driven with revolt to what I would not; I was a bond-slave to poverty, +driven and scourged. There are robust virtues that can stand in these +temptations; mine was not so; I had a thirst of pleasure. But to-day, +and out of this deed, I pluck both warning and riches--both the power +and a fresh resolve to be myself. I become in all things a free actor in +the world; I begin to see myself all changed, these hands the agents +of good, this heart at peace. Something comes over me out of the +past--something of what I have dreamed on Sabbath evenings to the sound +of the church organ, of what I forecast when I shed tears over noble +books, or talked, an innocent child, with my mother. There lies my +life; I have wandered a few years, but now I see once more my city of +destination." + +"You are to use this money on the Stock Exchange, I think?" remarked +the visitor; "and there, if I mistake not, you have already lost some +thousands?" + +"Ah," said Markheim, "but this time I have a sure thing." + +"This time, again, you will lose," replied the visitor quietly. + +"Ah, but I keep back the half!" cried Markheim. + +"That also you will lose," said the other. + +The sweat started upon Markheim's brow. "Well then, what matter?" he +exclaimed. "Say it be lost, say I am plunged again in poverty, shall one +part of me, and that the worse, continue until the end to override the +better? Evil and good run strong in me, hailing me both ways. I do +not love the one thing; I love all. I can conceive great deeds, +renunciations, martyrdoms; and though I be fallen to such a crime as +murder, pity is no stranger to my thoughts. I pity the poor; who knows +their trials better than myself? I pity and help them. I prize love; I +love honest laughter; there is no good thing nor true thing on earth but +I love it from my heart. And are my vices only to direct my life, and my +virtues to lie without effect, like some passive lumber of the mind? Not +so; good, also, is a spring of acts." + +But the visitant raised his finger. "For six and thirty years that you +have been in this world," said he, "through many changes of fortune and +varieties of humour, I have watched you steadily fall. Fifteen years +ago you would have started at a theft. Three years back you would have +blenched at the name of murder. Is there any crime, is there any cruelty +or meanness, from which you still recoil? Five years from now I shall +detect you in the fact! Downward, downward, lies your way; nor can +anything but death avail to stop you." + +"It is true," Markheim said huskily, "I have in some degree complied +with evil. But it is so with all; the very saints, in the mere +exercise of living, grow less dainty, and take on the tone of their +surroundings." + +"I will propound to you one simple question," said the other; "and as +you answer I shall read to you your moral horoscope. You have grown +in many things more lax; possibly you do right to be so; and at any +account, it is the same with all men. But granting that, are you in any +one particular, however trifling, more difficult to please with your own +conduct, or do you go in all things with a looser rein?" + +"In any one?" repeated Markheim, with an anguish of consideration. "No," +he added, with despair; "in none! I have gone down in all." + +"Then," said the visitor, "content yourself with what you are, for +you will never change; and the words of your part on this stage are +irrevocably written down." + +Markheim stood for a long while silent, and, indeed, it was the visitor +who first broke the silence. "That being so," he said, "shall I show you +the money?" + +"And grace?" cried Markheim. + +"Have you not tried it?" returned the other. "Two or three years ago +did I not see you on the platform of revival meetings, and was not your +voice the loudest in the hymn?" + +"It is true," said Markheim; "and I see clearly what remains for me by +way of duty. I thank you for these lessons from my soul; my eyes are +opened, and I behold myself at last for what I am." + +At this moment, the sharp note of the door-bell rang through the house; +and the visitant, as though this were some concerted signal for which he +had been waiting, changed at once in his demeanour. + +"The maid!" he cried. "She has returned, as I forewarned you, and there +is now before you one more difficult passage. Her master, you must +say, is ill; you must let her in, with an assured but rather serious +countenance; no smiles, no overacting, and I promise you success! +Once the girl within, and the door closed, the same dexterity that has +already rid you of the dealer will relieve you of this last danger in +your path. Thenceforward you have the whole evening--the whole night, +if needful--to ransack the treasures of the house and to make good your +safety. This is help that comes to you with the mask of danger. Up!" +he cried; "up, friend. Your life hangs trembling in the scales; up, and +act!" + +Markheim steadily regarded his counsellor. "If I be condemned to evil +acts," he said, "there is still one door of freedom open: I can cease +from action. If my life be an ill thing, I can lay it down. Though I be, +as you say truly, at the beck of every small temptation, I can yet, by +one decisive gesture, place myself beyond the reach of all. My love of +good is damned to barrenness; it may, and let it be! But I have still my +hatred of evil; and from that, to your galling disappointment, you shall +see that I can draw both energy and courage." + +The features of the visitor began to undergo a wonderful and lovely +change: they brightened and softened with a tender triumph, and, even +as they brightened, faded and dislimned. But Markheim did not pause +to watch or understand the transformation. He opened the door and went +downstairs very slowly, thinking to himself. His past went soberly +before him; he beheld it as it was, ugly and strenuous like a dream, +random as chance medley--a scene of defeat. Life, as he thus reviewed +it, tempted him no longer; but on the further side he perceived a quiet +haven for his bark. He paused in the passage, and looked into the shop, +where the candle still burned by the dead body. It was strangely silent. +Thoughts of the dealer swarmed into his mind, as he stood gazing. And +then the bell once more broke out into impatient clamour. + +He confronted the maid upon the threshold with something like a smile. + +"You had better go for the police," said he; "I have killed your +master." + + + + +QUEEN TITA'S WAGER, by William Black + + + + +I--FRANZISKA FAHLER + +It is a Christmas morning in Surrey--cold, still and gray, with a frail +glimmer of sunshine coming through the bare trees to melt the hoar-frost +on the lawn. The postman has just gone out, swinging the gate behind +him. A fire burns brightly in the breakfast-room; and there is silence +about the house, for the children have gone off to climb Box Hill before +being marched to church. + +The small and gentle lady who presides over the household walks sedately +in, and lifts the solitary letter that is lying on her plate. About +three seconds suffice to let her run through its contents, and then she +suddenly cries: + +"I knew it! I said it! I told you two months ago she was only flirting +with him; and now she has rejected him. And oh! I am so glad of it! The +poor boy!" + +The other person in the room, who had been meekly waiting for his +breakfast for half an hour, ventures to point out that there is nothing +to rejoice over in the fact of a young man having been rejected by a +young woman. + +"If it were final, yes! If these two young folks were not certain to go +and marry somebody else, you might congratulate them both. But you know +they will. The poor boy will go courting again in three months' time, +and be vastly pleased with his condition." + +"Oh, never, never!" she says. "He has had such a lesson! You know I +warned him. I knew she was only flirting with him. Poor Charlie! Now I +hope he will get on with his profession, and leave such things out of +his head. And as for that creature--" + +"I will do you the justice to say," observes her husband, who is still +regarding the table with a longing eye, "that you did oppose this +match, because you hadn't the making of it. If you had brought these +two together they would have been married ere this. Never mind; you can +marry him to somebody of your own choosing now." + +"No," she says, with much decision; "he must not think of marriage. He +cannot think of it. It will take the poor lad a long time to get over +this blow." + +"He will marry within a year." + +"I will bet you whatever you like that he doesn't," she says, +triumphantly. + +"Whatever I like! That is a big wager. If you lose, do you think you +could pay? I should like, for example, to have my own way in my own +house." + +"If I lose you shall," says the generous creature; and the bargain is +concluded. + +Nothing further is said about this matter for the moment. The children +return from Box Hill, and are rigged out for church. Two young people, +friends of ours, and recently married, having no domestic circle of +their own, and having promised to spend the whole Christmas Day with +us, arrived. Then we set out, trying as much as possible to think that +Christmas Day is different from any other day, and pleased to observe +that the younger folk, at least, cherish the delusion. + +But just before reaching the church I say to the small lady who got the +letter in the morning, and whom we generally call Tita: + +"When do you expect to see Charlie?" + +"I don't know," she answers. "After this cruel affair he won't like to +go about much." + +"You remember that he promised to go with us to the Black Forest?" + +"Yes; and I am sure it will be a pleasant trip for him." + +"Shall we go to Huferschingen?" + +"I suppose so." + +"Franziska is a pretty girl." + +Now you would not think that any great mischief could be done by the +mere remark that Franziska was a pretty girl. Anybody who had seen +Franziska Fahler, niece of the proprietor of the "Goldenen Bock" in +Huferschingen, would admit that in a moment. But this is nevertheless +true, that our important but diminutive Queen Tita was very thoughtful +during the rest of our walk to this little church; and in church, too, +she was thinking so deeply that she almost forgot to look at the effect +of the decorations she had nailed up the day before. Yet nothing could +have offended in the bare observation that Franziska was a pretty girl. + +At dinner in the evening we had our two guests and a few young fellows +from London who did not happen to have their families or homes there. +Curiously enough, there was a vast deal of talk about travelling, and +also about Baden, and more particularly about the southern districts +of Baden. Tita said the Black Forest was the most charming place in the +world; and as it was Christmas Day, and as we had been listening to +a sermon all about charity and kindness and consideration for others, +nobody was rude enough to contradict her. But our forbearance was put to +a severe test when, after dinner, she produced a photographic album and +handed it round, and challenged everybody to say whether the young lady +in the corner was not absolutely lovely. Most of them said that she was +certainly very nice-looking; and Tita seemed a little disappointed. + +I perceived that it would no longer do to say that Franziska was a +pretty girl. We should henceforth have to swear by everything we held +dear that she was absolutely lovely. + + + + +II--ZUM "GOLDENEN BOCK" + +We felt some pity for the lad when we took him abroad with us; but it +must be confessed that at first he was not a very desirable travelling +companion. There was a gloom about him. Despite the eight months that +had elapsed, he professed that his old wound was still open. Tita +treated him with the kindest maternal solicitude, which was a great +mistake; tonics, not sweets, are required in such cases. Yet he was very +grateful, and he said, with a blush, that, in any case, he would not +rail against all women because of the badness of one. Indeed, you would +not have fancied he had any great grudge against womankind. There were +a great many English abroad that autumn, and we met whole batches of +pretty girls at every station and at every _table d'hote_ on our route. +Did he avoid them, or glare at them savagely, or say hard things of +them? Oh no! quite the reverse. He was a little shy at first; and when +he saw a party of distressed damsels in a station, with their bewildered +father in vain attempting to make himself understood to a porter, he +would assist them in a brief and businesslike manner as if it were a +duty, lift his cap, and then march off relieved. But by-and-by he +began to make acquaintances in the hotel; and as he was a handsome, +English-looking lad, who bore a certificate of honesty in his clear gray +eyes and easy gait, he was rather made much of. Nor could any fault be +decently found with his appetite. + +So we passed on from Konigswinter to Coblenz, and from Coblenz to +Heidelberg, and from Heidelberg south to Freiburg, where we bade adieu +to the last of the towns, and laid hold of a trap with a pair of ancient +and angular horses, and plunged into the Hollenthal, the first great +gorge of the Black Forest mountains. From one point to another we slowly +urged our devious course, walking the most of the day, indeed, and +putting the trap and ourselves up for the night at some quaint roadside +hostelry, where we ate of roe-deer and drank of Affenthaler, and +endeavoured to speak German with a pure Waldshut accent. And then, one +evening, when the last rays of the sun were shining along the hills and +touching the stems of the tall pines, we drove into a narrow valley and +caught sight of a large brown building of wood, with projecting eaves +and quaint windows, that stood close by the forest. + +"Here is my dear inn!" cried Tita, with a great glow of delight and +affection in her face. "Here is _mein gutes Thal! Ich gruss' dich ein +tausend Mal!_ And here is old Peter come out to see us; and there is +Franziska!" + +"Oh, this is Franziska, is it?" said Charlie. + +Yes, this was Franziska. She was a well-built, handsome girl of nineteen +or twenty, with a healthy, sunburnt complexion, and dark hair plaited +into two long tails, which were taken up and twisted into a knot behind. +That you could see from a distance. But on nearer approach you found +that Franziska had really fine and intelligent features, and a pair of +frank, clear, big brown eyes that had a very straight look about them. +They were something of the eyes of a deer, indeed; wide apart, soft, and +apprehensive, yet looking with a certain directness and unconsciousness +that overcame her natural girlish timidity. Tita simply flew at her and +kissed her heartily and asked her twenty questions at once. Franziska +answered in very fair English, a little slow and formal, but quite +grammatical. Then she was introduced to Charlie, and she shook hands +with him in a simple and unembarrassed way; and then she turned to one +of the servants and gave some directions about the luggage. Finally she +begged Tita to go indoors and get off her travelling attire, which was +done, leaving us two outside. + +"She's a very pretty girl," Charlie said, carelessly. "I suppose she's +sort of head cook and kitchen-maid here." + +The impudence of these young men is something extraordinary. + +"If you wish to have your head in your hands," I remarked to him, "just +you repeat that remark at dinner. Why, Franziska is no end of a swell. +She has two thousand pounds and the half of a mill. She has a sister +married to the Geheimer-Ober-Hofbaurath of Hesse-Cassel. She had visited +both Paris and Munich, and she has her dresses made in Freiburg." + +"But why does such an illustrious creature bury herself in this valley, +and in an old inn, and go about bareheaded?" + +"Because there are folks in the world without ambition, who like to +live a quiet, decent, homely life. Every girl can't marry a +Geheimer-Ober-Hofbaurath. Ziska, now, is much more likely to marry the +young doctor here." + +"Oh, indeed! and live here all her days. She couldn't do better. Happy +Franziska!" + +We went indoors. It was a low, large, rambling place, with one immense +room all hung round with roe-deers' horns, and with one lesser room +fitted up with a billiard-table. The inn lay a couple of hundred yards +back from Huferschingen; but it had been made the headquarters of the +keepers, and just outside this room there were a number of pegs for them +to sling their guns and bags on when they came in of an evening to have +a pipe and a chopin of white wine. Ziska's uncle and aunt were both +large, stout, and somnolent people, very good-natured and kind, but a +trifle dull. Ziska really had the management of the place, and she was +not slow to lend a hand if the servants were remiss in waiting on us. +But that, it was understood, was done out of compliment to our small +Queen Tita. + +By-and-by we sat down to dinner, and Franziska came to see that +everything was going on straight. It was a dinner "with scenery." You +forgot to be particular about the soup, the venison, and the Affenthaler +when from the window at your elbow you could look across the narrow +valley and behold a long stretch of the Black Forest shining in the red +glow of the sunset. The lower the sun sank the more intense became the +crimson light on the tall stems of the pines; and then you could see the +line of shadow slowly rising up the side of the opposite hill until only +the topmost trees were touched with fire. Then these too lost it, and +all the forest around us seemed to have a pale-blue mist stealing over +it as the night fell and the twilight faded out of the sky overhead. +Presently the long undulations of fir grew black, the stars came out, +and the sound of the stream could be heard distantly in the hollow; and +then, at Tita's wish, we went off for a last stroll in among the soft +moss and under the darkness of the pines, now and again starting some +great capercailzie, and sending it flying and whirring down the glades. + +When we returned from that prowl into the forest, we found the inn dark. +Such people as may have called in had gone home; but we suspected that +Franziska had given the neighbours a hint not to overwhelm us on our +first arrival. When we entered the big room, Franziska came in with +candles; then she brought some matches, and also put on the table an odd +little pack of cards, and went out. Her uncle and aunt had, even before +we went out, come and bade us good-night formally, and shaken hands all +round. They are early folk in the Black Forest. + +"Where has that girl gone now?" says Charlie. "Into that lonely +billiard-room! Couldn't you ask her to come in here? Or shall we go and +play billiards?" + +Tita stares, and then demurely smiles; but it is with an assumed +severity that she rebukes him for such a wicked proposal, and reminds +him that he must start early next morning. He groans assent. Then she +takes her leave. + +The big young man was silent for a moment or two, with his hands in his +pockets and his legs stretched out. I begin to think I am in for it--the +old story of blighted hopes and angry denunciation and hypocritical +joy, and all the rest of it. But suddenly Charlie looks up with a +businesslike air and says: + +"Who is that doctor fellow you were speaking about! Shall we see him +to-morrow?" + +"You saw him to-night. It was he who passed us on the road with the two +beagles." + +"What! that little fellow with the bandy legs and the spectacles?" he +cries, with a great laugh. + +"That little fellow," I observe to him, "is a person of some importance, +I can tell you. He--" + +"I suppose his sister married a Geheimer-Ober-under--what the dickens is +it?" says this disrespectful young man. + +"Dr. Krumm has got the Iron Cross." + +"That won't make his legs any the straighter." + +"He was at Weissenburg." + +"I suppose he got that cast in the eye there." + +"He can play the zither in a way that would astonish you. He has got a +little money. Franziska and he would be able to live very comfortably +together." + +"Franziska and that fellow?" says Charlie; and then he rises with a +sulky air, and proposes we should take our candles with us. + +But he is not sulky very long; for Ziska, hearing our footsteps, comes +to the passage and bids us a friendly good-night. + +"Good-night, Miss Fahler!" he says, in rather a shamefaced way; "and +I am so awfully sorry we have kept you up so late. We sha'n't do it +again." + +You would have thought by his manner that it was two o'clock, whereas it +was only half-past eleven! + + + + +III--DR. KRUMM + +There was no particular reason why Dr. Krumm should marry Franziska +Fahler, except that he was the most important young man in +Huferschingen, and she was the most important young woman. People +therefore thought they would make a good match, although Franziska +certainly had the most to give in the way of good looks. Dr. Krumm was +a short, bandy-legged, sturdy young man, with long, fair hair, a tanned +complexion, light-blue eyes not quite looking the same way, spectacles, +and a general air of industrious common sense about him, if one may use +such a phrase. There was certainly little of the lover in his manner +toward Ziska, and as little in hers toward him. They were very good +friends, though, and he called her Ziska, while she gave him his +nickname of Fidelio, his real name being Fidele. + +Now on this, the first morning of our stay in Huferschingen, all the +population had turned out at an early hour to see us start for the +forest; and as the Ober-Forster had gone away to visit his parents in +Bavaria, Dr. Krumm was appointed to superintend the operations of +the day. And when everybody was busy renewing acquaintance with us, +gathering the straying dogs, examining guns and cartridge-belts, and +generally aiding in the profound commotion of our setting out, Dr. Krumm +was found to be talking in a very friendly and familiar manner with +our pretty Franziska. Charlie eyed them askance. He began to say +disrespectful things of Krumm: he thought Krumm a plain person. And +then, when the bandy-legged doctor had got all the dogs, keepers, and +beaters together, we set off along the road, and presently plunged into +the cool shade of the forest, where the thick moss suddenly silenced our +footsteps, and where there was a moist and resinous smell in the air. + +Well, the incidents of the forenoon's shooting, picturesque as they +were, and full of novelty to Tita's protege, need not be described. At +the end of the fourth drive, when we had got on nearly to luncheon-time, +it appeared that Charlie had killed a handsome buck, and he was so +pleased with this performance that he grew friendly with Dr. Krumm, who +had, indeed, given him the _haupt-stelle_. But when, as we sat down to +our sausages and bread and red wine, Charlie incidentally informed our +commander-in-chief that, during one of the drives, a splendid yellow fox +had come out of the underwood and stood and stared at him for three or +four seconds, the doctor uttered a cry of despair. + +"I should have told you that," he said, in English that was not quite so +good as Ziska's, "if I had remembered, yes! The English will not shoot +the foxes; but they are very bad for us; they kill the young deer. We +are glad to shoot them; and Franziska she told me she wanted a yellow +fox for the skin to make something." + +Charlie got very red in the face. He _had_ missed a chance. If he had +known that Franziska wanted a yellow fox, all the instinctive veneration +for that animal that was in him would have gone clean out, and the fate +of the animal--for Charlie was a smart shot--would have been definitely +sealed. + +"Are there many of them?" said he, gloomily. + +"No; not many. But where there is one there are generally four or five. +In the next drive we may come on them, yes! I will put you in a +good place, sir, and you must not think of letting him go away; for +Franziska, who has waited two, three weeks, and not one yellow fox not +anywhere, and it is for the variety of the skin in a--a--I do not know +what you call it." + +"A rug, I suppose," said Charlie. + +I subsequently heard that Charlie went to his post with a fixed +determination to shoot anything of yellow colour that came near him. His +station was next to that of Dr. Krumm; but of course they were invisible +to each other. The horns of the beaters sounded a warning; the gunners +cocked their guns and stood on the alert; in the perfect silence each +one waited for the first glimmer of a brown hide down the long green +glades of young fir. Then, according to Charlie's account, by went two +or three deer like lightning--all of them does. A buck came last, but +swerved just as he came in sight, and backed and made straight for the +line of beaters. Two more does, and then an absolute blank. One or two +shots had been heard at a distance; either some of the more distant +stations had been more fortunate, or one or other of the beaters had +tried his luck. Suddenly there was a shot fired close to Charlie; he +knew it must have been the doctor. In about a minute afterward he saw +some pale-yellow object slowly worming its way through the ferns; and +here, at length, he made sure he was going to get his yellow fox. But +just as the animal came within fair distance, it turned over, made a +struggle or two, and lay still. Charlie rushed along to the spot: +it was, indeed, a yellow fox, shot in the head, and now as dead as a +door-nail. + +What was he to do? Let Dr. Krumm take home this prize to Franziska, +after he had had such a chance in the afternoon? Never! Charlie fired +a barrel into the air, and then calmly awaited the coming up of the +beaters and the drawing together of the sportsmen. + +Dr. Krumm, being at the next station, was the first to arrive. He found +Charlie standing by the side of the slain fox. + +"Ha!" he said, his spectacles fairly gleaming with delight, "you have +shotted him! You have killed him! That is very good--that is excellent! +Now you will present the skin to Miss Franziska, if you do not wish to +take it to England." + +"Oh no!" said Charlie, with a lordly indifference. "I don't care about +it. Franziska may have it." + +Charlie pulled me aside, and said, with a solemn wink: + +"Can you keep a secret?" + +"My wife and I can keep a secret. I am not allowed to have any for +myself." + +"Listen," said the unabashed young man; "Krumm shot that fox. Mind you +don't say a word. I must have the skin to present to Franziska." + +I stared at him; I had never known him guilty of a dishonest action. +But when you do get a decent young English fellow condescending to do +anything shabby, be sure it is a girl who is the cause. I said nothing, +of course; and in the evening a trap came for us, and we drove back to +Huferschingen. + +Tita clapped her hands with delight; for Charlie was a favourite of +hers, and now he was returning like a hero, with a sprig of fir in his +cap to show that he had killed a buck. + +"And here, Miss Franziska," he said, quite gaily, "here is a yellow fox +for you. I was told that you wanted the skin of one." + +Franziska fairly blushed for pleasure; not that the skin of a fox was +very valuable for her, but that the compliment was so open and marked. +She came forward, in German fashion, and rather shyly shook hands with +him in token of her thanks. + +When Tita was getting ready for dinner I told her about the yellow fox. +A married man must have no secrets. + +"He is not capable of such a thing," she says, with a grand air. + +"But he did it," I point out. "What is more, he glories in it. What did +he say when I remonstrated with him on the way home! '_Why_,' says he, +'_I will put an end to Krumm! I will abolish Krumm! I will extinguish +Krumm!_' Now, madame, who is responsible for this? Who had been praising +Franziska night and day as the sweetest, gentlest, cleverest girl in the +world, until this young man determines to have a flirtation with her and +astonish you?" + +"A flirtation!" says Tita, faintly. "Oh no! Oh, I never meant that." + +"Ask him just now, and he will tell you that women deserve no better. +They have no hearts; they are treacherous. They have beautiful eyes, but +no conscience. And so he means to take them as they are, and have his +measure of amusement." + +"Oh, I am sure he never said anything so abominably wicked," cried Tita, +laying down the rose that Franziska had given her for her hair. "I know +he could not say such things. But if he is so wicked--if he has said +them--it is not too late to interfere. _I_ will see about it." + +She drew herself up as if Jupiter had suddenly armed her with his +thunderbolts. If Charlie had seen her at this moment he would have +quailed. He might by chance have told the truth, and confessed that all +the wicked things he had been saying about woman's affection were only +a sort of rhetoric, and that he had no sort of intention to flirt with +poor Franziska, nor yet to extinguish and annihilate Dr. Krumm. + +The heartbroken boy was in very good spirits at dinner. He was inclined +to wink. Tita, on the contrary, maintained an impressive dignity of +demeanour; and when Franziska's name happened to be mentioned she spoke +of the young girl as her very particular friend, as though she would +dare Charlie to attempt a flirtation with one who held that honour. But +the young man was either blind or reckless, or acting a part for mere +mischief. He pointed the finger of scorn at Dr. Krumm. He asked Tita +if he should bring her a yellow fox next day. He declared he wished +he could spend the remainder of his life in a Black Forest Inn, with a +napkin over his arm, serving chopins. He said he would brave the wrath +of the Furst by shooting a capercailzie on the very first opportunity, +to bring the shining feathers home to Franziska. + +When Tita and I went upstairs at night the small and gentle creature was +grievously perplexed. + +"I cannot make it out," she said. "He is quite changed. What is the +matter with him?" + +"You behold, madam, in that young man the moral effects of vulpicide. A +demon has entered into him. You remember, in 'Der Freischutz,' how--" + +"Did you say vulpicide?" she asks, with a sweet smile. "I understood +that Charlie's crime was that he did _not_ kill the fox." + +I allow her the momentary triumph. Who would grudge to a woman a little +verbal victory of that sort? And, indeed, Tita's satisfaction did not +last long. Her perplexity became visible on her face once more. + +"We are to be here three weeks," she said, almost to herself, "and he +talks of flirting with poor Franziska. Oh, I never meant that!" + +"But what did you mean?" I ask her, with innocent wonder. + +Tita hangs down her head, and there is an end to that conversation; but +one of us, at least, has some recollection of a Christmas wager. + + + + +IV--CONFESSIO AMANTIS + +Charlie was not in such good spirits next morning. He was standing +outside the inn, in the sweet, resinous-scented air, watching Franziska +coming and going, with her bright face touched by the early sunlight, +and her frank and honest eyes lit up by a kindly look when she passed +us. His conscience began to smite him for claiming that fox. + +We spent the day in fishing a stream some few miles distant from +Huferschingen, and Franziska accompanied us. What need to tell of our +success with the trout and the grayling, or of the beautiful weather, +or of the attentive and humble manner in which the unfortunate youth +addressed Franziska from time to time? + +In the evening we drove back to Huferschingen. It was a still and +beautiful evening, with the silence of the twilight falling over the +lonely valleys and the miles upon miles of darkening pines. Charlie has +not much of a voice, but he made an effort to sing with Tita: + + "The winds whistle cold and the stars glimmer red, + The sheep are in fold and the cattle in shed;" + +and the fine old glee sounded fairly well as we drove through the +gathering gloom of the forest. But Tita sang, in her low, sweet fashion, +that Swedish bridal song that begins: + + "Oh, welcome her so fair, with bright and flowing hair; + May Fate through life befriend her, love and smiles attend her;" + +and though she sang quietly, just as if she were singing to herself, we +all listened with great attention, and with great gratitude too. When we +got out of Huferschingen, the stars were out over the dark stretches of +forest, and the windows of the quaint old inn were burning brightly. + +"And have you enjoyed the amusement of the day?" says Miss Fahler, +rather shyly, to a certain young man who is emptying his creel of +fish. He drops the basket to turn round and look at her face and say +earnestly: + +"I have never spent so delightful a day; but it wasn't the fishing." + +Things were becoming serious. + +And next morning Charlie got hold of Tita, and said to her, in rather a +shamefaced way: + +"What am I to do about that fox? It was only a joke, you know; but if +Miss Fahler gets to hear of it, she'll think it was rather shabby." + +It was always Miss Fahler now; a couple of days before it was Franziska. + +"For my part," says Tita, "I can't understand why you did it. What +honour is there in shooting a fox?" + +"But I wanted to give the skin to her." + +It was "her" by this time. + +"Well, I think the best thing you can do is to go and tell her all about +it; and also to go and apologise to Dr. Krumm." + +Charlie started. + +"I will go and tell her, certainly; but as for apologising to Krumm, +that is absurd!" + +"As you please," says Tita. + +By-and-by Franziska--or rather Miss Fahler--came out of the small garden +and round by the front of the house. + +"O Miss Fahler," says Charlie, suddenly,--and with that she stops and +blushes slightly,--"I've got something to say to you. I am going to make +a confession. Don't be frightened; it's only about a fox--the fox that +was brought home the day before yesterday; Dr. Krumm shot that." + +"Indeed," says Franziska, quite innocently, "I thought you shot it." + +"Well, I let them imagine so. It was only a joke." + +"But it is of no matter; there are many yellow foxes. Dr. Krumm can +shoot them at another time; he is always here. Perhaps you will shoot +one before you go." + +With that Franziska passed into the house, carrying her fruit with her. +Charlie was left to revolve her words in his mind. Dr. Krumm could shoot +foxes when he chose; he was always here. He, Charlie, on the contrary, +had to go away in little more than a fortnight. There was no Franziska +in England; no pleasant driving through great pine woods in the +gathering twilight; no shooting of yellow foxes, to be brought home in +triumph and presented to a beautiful and grateful young woman. Charlie +walked along the white road and overtook Tita, who had just sat down on +a little camp-stool, and got out the materials for taking a water-colour +sketch of the Huferschingen Valley. He sat down at her feet on the warm +grass. + +"I suppose I sha'n't interrupt your painting by talking to you?" he +says. + +"Oh dear, no," is the reply; and then he begins, in a somewhat +hesitating way, to ask indirect questions and drop hints and fish for +answers, just as if this small creature, who was busy with her sepias +and olive greens, did not see through all this transparent cunning. + +At last she said to him, frankly: + +"You want me to tell you whether Franziska would make a good wife for +you. She would make a good wife for any man. But then you seem to think +that I should intermeddle and negotiate and become a go-between. How +can I do that? My husband is always accusing me of trying to make up +matches; and you know that isn't true." + +"I know it isn't true," says the hypocrite; "but you might only this +once. I believe all you say about this girl; I can see it for myself; +and when shall I ever have such a chance again?" + +"But dear me!" says Tita, putting down the white palette for a moment, +"how can I believe you are in earnest? You have only known her three +days." + +"And that is quite enough," says Charlie, boldly, "to let you find out +all you want to know about a girl if she is of the right sort. If she +isn't you won't find out in three years. Now look at Franziska; look at +the fine, intelligent face and the honest eyes; you can have no doubt +about her; and then I have all the guarantee of your long acquaintance +with her." + +"Oh," says Tita, "that is all very well. Franziska is an excellent girl, +as I have told you often--frank, kind, well educated, and unselfish. But +you cannot have fallen in love with her in three days?" + +"Why not?" says this blunt-spoken young man. + +"Because it is ridiculous. If I meddle in the affair I should probably +find you had given up the fancy in other three days; or if you did marry +her and took her to England you would get to hate me because I alone +should know that you had married the niece of an innkeeper." + +"Well, I like that!" says he, with a flush in his face. "Do you think I +should care two straws whether my friends knew I had married the niece +of an innkeeper? I should show them Franziska. Wouldn't that be enough? +An innkeeper's niece! I wish the world had more of 'em, if they're like +Franziska." + +"And besides," says Tita, "have you any notion as to how Franziska +herself would probably take this mad proposal?" + +"No," says the young man, humbly. "I wanted you to try and find out what +she thought about me; and if, in time something were said about this +proposal, you might put in a word or two, you know, just to--to give +her an idea, you know, that you don't think it quite so mad, don't you +know?" + +"Give me your hand, Charlie," says Tita, with a sudden burst of +kindness. "I'll do what I can for you; for I know she's a good girl, and +she will make a good wife to the man who marries her." + +You will observe that this promise was given by a lady who never, in any +circumstances whatsoever, seeks to make up matches, who never speculates +on possible combinations when she invites young people to her house in +Surrey, and who is profoundly indignant, indeed, when such a charge is +preferred against her. Had she not, on that former Christmas morning, +repudiated with scorn the suggestion that Charlie might marry before +another year had passed? Had she not, in her wild confidence, staked +on a wager that assumption of authority in her household and out of it +without which life would be a burden to her? Yet no sooner was the name +of Franziska mentioned, and no sooner had she been reminded that Charlie +was going with us to Huferschingen, than the nimble little brain set to +work. Oftentimes it has occurred to one dispassionate spectator of her +ways that this same Tita resembled the small object which, thrown into +a dish of some liquid chemical substance, suddenly produces a mass of +crystals. The constituents of those beautiful combinations, you see, +were there; but they wanted some little shock to hasten the slow +process of crystallisation. Now in our social circle we have continually +observed groups of young people floating about in an amorphous and +chaotic fashion--good for nothing but dawdling through dances, and +flirting, and carelessly separating again; but when you dropped Tita +among them, then you would see how rapidly this jellyfish sort of +existence was abolished--how the groups got broken up, and how the +sharp, businesslike relations of marriage were precipitated and made +permanent. But would she own to it? Never! She once went and married +her dearest friend to a Prussian officer; and now she declares he was a +selfish fellow to carry off the girl in that way, and rates him soundly +because he won't bring her to stay with us more than three months out +of the twelve. There are some of us get quite enough of this Prussian +occupation of our territory. + +"Well," says Tita to this long English lad, who is lying sprawling on +the grass, "I can safely tell you this, that Franziska likes you very +well." + +He suddenly jumps up, and there is a great blush on his face. + +"Has she said so?" he asks, eagerly. + +"Oh yes! in a way. She thinks you are good-natured. She likes the +English generally. She asked me if that ring you wear was an engaged +ring." + +These disconnected sentences were dropped with a tantalising slowness +into Charlie's eager ears. + +"I must go and tell her directly that it is not," said he; and he might +probably have gone off at once had not Tita restrained him. + +"You must be a great deal more cautious than that if you wish to carry +off Franziska some day or other. If you were to ask her to marry you +now she would flatly refuse you, and very properly; for how could a +girl believe you were in earnest? But if you like, Charlie, I will say +something to her that will give her a hint; and if she cares for you at +all before you go away she won't forget you. I wish I was as sure of you +as I am of her." + +"Oh I can answer for myself," says the young man, with a becoming +bashfulness. + +Tita was very happy and pleased all that day. There was an air of +mystery and importance about her. I knew what it meant; I had seen it +before. + +Alas! poor Charlie! + + + + +V--"GAB MIR EIN' RING DABEI" + +Under the friendly instructions of Dr. Krumm, whom he no longer regarded +as a possible rival, Charlie became a mighty hunter; and you may be sure +that he returned of an evening with sprigs of fir in his cap for the +bucks he had slain, Franziska was not the last to come forward and shake +hands with him and congratulate him, as is the custom in these primitive +parts. And then she was quite made one of the family when we sat down to +dinner in the long, low-roofed room; and nearly every evening, indeed, +Tita would have her to dine with us and play cards with us. + +You may suppose, if these two young folk had any regard for each other, +those evenings in the inn must have been a pleasant time for them. There +were never two partners at whist who were so courteous to each other, +so charitable to each other's blunders. Indeed, neither would ever admit +that the other blundered. Charlie used to make some frightful mistakes +occasionally that would have driven any other player mad; but you should +have seen the manner in which Franziska would explain that he had no +alternative but to take her king with his ace, that he could not know +this, and was right in chancing that. We played three-penny points, and +Charlie paid for himself and his partner, in spite of her entreaties. +Two of us found the game of whist a profitable thing. + +One day a registered letter came for Charlie. He seized it, carried it +to a window, and then called Tita to him. Why need he have any secret +about it? It was nothing but a ring--a plain hoop with a row of rubies. + +"Do you think she would take this thing?" he said, in a low voice. + +"How can I tell?" + +The young man blushed and stammered, and said: + +"I don't want you to ask her to take the ring, but to get to know +whether she would accept any present from me. And I would ask her myself +plainly, only you have been frightening me so much about being in a +hurry. And what am I to do? Three days hence we start." + +Tita looked down with a smile and said, rather timidly: + +"I think if I were you I would speak to her myself--but very gently." + +We were going off that morning to a little lake some dozen miles off to +try for a jack or two. Franziska was coming with us. She was, indeed, +already outside, superintending the placing in the trap of our rods +and bags. When Charlie went out she said that everything was ready; and +presently our peasant driver cracked his whip, and away we went. + +Charlie was a little grave, and could only reply to Tita's fun with an +effort. Franziska was mostly anxious about the fishing, and hoped that +we might not go so far to find nothing. + +We found few fish anyhow. The water was as still as glass, and as clear; +the pike that would have taken our spinning bits of metal must have +been very dull-eyed pike indeed. Tita sat at the bow of the long punt +reading, while our boatman steadily and slowly plied his single oar. +Franziska was for a time eagerly engaged in watching the progress of +our fishing, until even she got tired of the excitement of rolling in an +immense length of cord, only to find that our spinning bait had hooked a +bit of floating wood or weed. At length Charlie proposed that he should +go ashore and look out for a picturesque site for our picnic, and he +hinted that perhaps Miss Franziska might also like a short walk to +relieve the monotony of the sailing. Miss Franziska said she would be +very pleased to do that. We ran them in among the rushes, and put them +ashore, and then once more started on our laborious career. + +Tita laid down her book. She was a little anxious. Sometimes you could +see Charlie and Franziska on the path by the side of the lake; at other +times the thick trees by the water's side hid them. + +The solitary oar dipped in the lake; the boat glided along the shores. +Tita took up her book again. The space of time that passed may be +inferred from the fact that, merely as an incident to it, we managed +to catch a chub of four pounds. When the excitement over this event had +passed, Tita said: + +"We must go back to them. What do they mean by not coming on and telling +us? It is most silly of them." + +We went back by the same side of the lake, and we found both Franziska +and her companion seated on the bank at the precise spot where we had +left them. They said it was the best place for the picnic. They asked +for the hamper in a businesslike way. They pretended they had searched +the shores of the lake for miles. + +And while Tita and Franziska are unpacking the things, and laying the +white cloth smoothly on the grass, and pulling out the bottles for +Charlie to cool in the lake, I observe that the younger of the two +ladies rather endeavours to keep her left hand out of sight. It is a +paltry piece of deception. Are we moles, and blinder than moles, that we +should continually be made the dupes of these women? I say to her: + +"Franziska, what is the matter with your left hand?" + +"Leave Franziska's left hand alone," says Tita, severely. + +"My dear," I reply, humbly, "I am afraid Franziska has hurt her left +hand." + +At this moment Charlie, having stuck the bottles among the reeds, comes +back, and, hearing our talk, he says, in a loud and audacious way: + +"Oh, do you mean the ring? It's a pretty little thing I had about me, +and Franziska has been good enough to accept it. You can show it to +them, Franziska." + +Of course he had it about him. Young men always do carry a stock of ruby +rings with them when they go fishing, to put in the noses of the fish. I +have observed it frequently. + +Franziska looks timidly at Tita, and then she raises her hand, that +trembles a little. She is about to take the ring off to show it to us +when Charlie interposes: + +"You needn't take it off, Franziska." + +And with that, somehow, the girl slips away from among us, and Tita +is with her, and we don't get a glimpse of either of them until the +solitude resounds with our cries for luncheon. + +In due time Charlie returned to London, and to Surrey with us in very +good spirits. He used to come down very often to see us; and one evening +at dinner he disclosed the fact that he was going over to the Black +Forest in the following week, although the November nights were chill +just then. + +"And how long do you remain?" + +"A month," he says. + +"Madam," I say to the small lady at the other end of the table, "a month +from now will bring us to the 4th of December. You have lost the bet +you made last Christmas morning; when will it please you to resign your +authority?" + +"Oh, bother the bet," says this unscrupulous person. + +"But what do you mean?" says Charlie. + +"Why," I say to him, "she laid a wager last Christmas Day that you +would not be married within a year. And now you say you mean to bring +Franziska over on the 4th of December next. Isn't it so?" + +"Oh, no!" he says; "we don't get married till the spring." + +You should have heard the burst of low, delightful laughter with which +Queen Tita welcomed this announcement. She had won her wager. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Stories By English Authors: Germany, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES BY ENGLISH AUTHORS: *** + +***** This file should be named 2071.txt or 2071.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/7/2071/ + +Produced by Dagny; John Bickers and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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