Hugues-le-Loup. English Read online

  CHAPTER I.

  About Christmas time in the year 18--, as I was lying fast asleep at theCygne at Fribourg, my old friend Gideon Sperver broke abruptly into myroom, crying--

  "Fritz, I have good news for you; I am going to take you to Nideck, twoleagues from this place. You know Nideck, the finest baronial castle inthe country, a grand monument of the glory of our forefathers?"

  Now I had not seen Sperver, who was my foster-father, for sixteen years;he had grown a full beard in that time, a huge fox-skin cap covered hishead, and he was holding his lantern close under my nose. It was,therefore, only natural that I should answer--

  "In the first place let us do things in order. Tell me who you are."

  "Who I am? What! don't you remember Gideon Sperver, the Schwartzwaldhuntsman? You would not be so ungrateful, would you? Was it not I whotaught you to set a trap, to lay wait for the foxes along the skirts ofthe woods, to start the dogs after the wild birds? Do you remember menow? Look at my left ear, with a frost-bite."

  "Now I know you; that left ear of yours has done it; Shake hands."

  Sperver, passing the back of his hand across his eyes, went on--

  "You know Nideck?"

  "Of course I do--by reputation; what have you to do there?"

  "I am the count's chief huntsman."

  "And who has sent you?"

  "The young Countess Odile."

  "Very good. How soon are we to start?"

  "This moment. The matter is urgent; the old count is very ill, and hisdaughter has begged me not to lose a moment. The horses are quite ready."

  "But, Gideon, my dear fellow, just look out at the weather; it has beensnowing three days without cessation."

  "Oh, nonsense; we are not going out boar-hunting; put on your thick coat,buckle on your spurs, and let us prepare to start. I will order somethingto eat first." And he went out, first adding, "Be sure to put on yourcape."

  I could never refuse old Gideon anything; from my childhood he could doanything with me with a nod or a sign; so I equipped myself and came intothe coffee-room.

  "I knew," he said, "that you would not let me go back without you. Eatevery bit of this slice of ham, and let us drink a stirrup cup, for thehorses are getting impatient. I have had your portmanteau put in."

  "My portmanteau! what is that for?"

  "Yes, it will be all right; you will have to stay a few days at Nideck,that is indispensable, and I will tell you why presently."

  So we went down into the courtyard.

  At that moment two horsemen arrived, evidently tired out with riding,their horses in a perfect lather of foam. Sperver, who had always beena great admirer of a fine horse, expressed his surprise and admirationat these splendid animals.

  "What beauties! They are of the Wallachian breed, I can see, as finelyformed as deer, and as swift. Nicholas, throw a cloth over them quickly,or they will take cold."

  The travellers, muffled in Siberian furs, passed close by us just as wewere going to mount. I could only discern the long brown moustache ofone, and his singularly bright and sparkling eyes.

  They entered the hotel.

  The groom was holding our horses by the bridle. He wished us _bonvoyage_, removed his hand, and we were off.

  Sperver rode a pure Mecklemburg. I was mounted on a stout cob bred in theArdennes, full of fire; we flew over the snowy ground. In ten minutes wehad left Fribourg behind us.

  The sky was beginning to clear up. As far as the eye could reach we coulddistinguish neither road, path, nor track. Our only company were theravens of the Black Forest spreading their hollow wings wide over thebanks of snow, trying one place after another unsuccessfully for food,and croaking, "Misery! misery!"

  Gideon, with his weather-beaten countenance, his fur cloak and cap,galloped on ahead, whistling airs from the _Freyschuetz_; sometimes as heturned I could see the sparkling drops of moisture hanging from his longmoustache.

  "Well, Fritz, my boy, this is a fine winter's morning."

  "So it is, but it is rather severe; don't you think so?"

  "I am fond of a clear hard frost," he replied; "it promotes circulation.If our old minister Tobias had but the courage to start out in weatherlike this he would soon put an end to his rheumatic pains."

  I smiled, I am afraid, involuntarily.

  After an hour of this rapid pace Sperver slackened his speed and let mecome abreast of him.

  "Fritz, I shall have to tell you the object of this journey at some time,I suppose?"

  "I was beginning to think I ought to know what I am going about."

  "A good many doctors have already been consulted."

  "Indeed!"

  "Yes, some came from Berlin in great wigs who only asked to see thepatient's tongue. Others from Switzerland examined him another way. Thedoctors from Paris stared at their patient through magnifying glasses tolearn something from his physiognomy. But all their learning was wasted,and they got large fees in reward of their ignorance."

  "Is that the way you speak of us medical gentlemen?"

  "I am not alluding to you at all. I have too much respect for you, and ifI should happen to break my leg I don't know that there is another that Ishould prefer to yourself to treat me as a patient, but you have notdiscovered an optical instrument yet to tell what is going on inside ofus."

  "How do you know that?"

  At this reply the worthy fellow looked at me doubtfully as if he thoughtme a quack like the rest, yet he replied--

  "Well, Fritz, if you have indeed such a glass it will be wanted now, forthe count's complaint is internal; it is a terrible kind of illness,something like madness. You know that madness shows itself in either ninehours, nine days, or nine weeks?"

  "So it is said; but not having noticed this myself, I cannot say that itis so."

  "Still you know there are agues which return at periods of either three,six, or nine years. There are singular works in this machinery of ours.Whenever this human clockwork is wound up in some particular way, fever,or indigestion, or toothache returns at the very hour and day."

  "Why, Gideon, I am quite aware of that; those periodical complaints arethe greatest trouble we have."

  "I am sorry to hear it, for the count's complaint is periodical; itcomes back every year, on the same day, at the same hour; his mouthruns over with foam, his eyes stand out white and staring, like greatbilliard-balls; he shakes from head to foot, and he gnashes with histeeth."

  "Perhaps this man has had serious troubles to go through?"

  "No, he has not. If his daughter would but consent to be married hewould be the happiest man alive. He is rich and powerful and full ofhonours. He possesses everything that the rest of the world is coveting.Unfortunately his daughter persists in refusing every offer of marriage.She consecrates her life to God, and it harasses him to think that theancient house of Nideck will become extinct."

  "How did his illness come on?" I asked.

  "Suddenly, ten years ago," was the reply.

  All at once the honest fellow seemed to be recollecting himself. He tookfrom his pocket a short pipe, filled it, and having lighted it--

  "One evening," said he, "I was sitting alone with the count in thearmoury of the castle. It was about Christmas time. We had been huntingwild boars the whole day in the valleys of the Rhethal, and had returnedat night bringing home with us two of our boar-hounds ripped open fromhead to tail. It was just as cold as it is to-night, with snow and frost.The count was pacing up and down the room with his chin upon his breastand his hands crossed behind him, like a man in profound thought. Fromtime to time he stopped to watch the gathering snow on the high windows,and I was warming myself in the chimney corner, bewailing my dead hounds,and bestowing maledictions on all the wild boars that infest theSchwartzwald. Everybody at Nideck had been asleep a couple of hours,and not a sound could be heard but the tread and the clank of thecount's heavy spurred boots upon the flags. I remember well that a crow,no doubt driven by a gust of wind, came flapping its wings against the
window-panes, uttering a discordant shriek, and how the sheets of snowfell from the windows, and the windows suddenly changed from white toblack--"

  "But what has all this to do with your master's illness?" I interrupted.

  "Let me go on--you will soon see. At that cry the count suddenly gatheredhimself together with a shuddering movement, his eyes became fixed with aglassy stare, his cheeks were bloodless, and he bent his head forwardjust like a hunter catching the sound of his approaching game. I went onwarming myself, and I thought, 'Won't he soon go to bed now?' for, totell you the truth, I was overcome with fatigue. All these details,Fritz, are still present in my memory. Scarcely had the bird of ill omencroaked its unearthly cry when the old clock struck eleven. At thatmoment the count turns on his heel--he listens, his lips tremble, I cansee him staggering like a drunken man. He stretches out his hands, hisjaws are tightly clenched, his eyes staring and white. I cried, 'My lord,what is the matter?' but he began to laugh discordantly like a madman,stumbled, and fell upon the stone floor, face downwards. I called forhelp; servants came round. Sebalt took the count by the shoulders; weremoved him to a bed near the window; but just as I was loosening thecount's neckerchief--for I was afraid it was apoplexy--the countess cameand flung herself upon the body of her father, uttering such heartrendingcries that the very remembrance of them makes me shudder."

  Here Gideon took his pipe from his lips, knocked the ashes out upon thepommel of his saddle, and pursued his tale in a saddened voice.

  "From that day, Fritz, none but evil days have come upon Nideck, andbetter times seem to be far off. Every year at the same day and hour thecount has shuddering fits. The malady lasts from a week to a fortnight,during which he howls and yells so frightfully that it makes a man'sblood run cold to hear him. Then he slowly recovers his usual health. Heis still pale and weak, and moves trembling from one chair to another,starting at the least noise or movement, and fearful of his own shadow.The young countess, the sweetest creature in the world, never leaves hisside; but he cannot endure her while the fit is upon him. He roars ather, 'Go, leave me this moment! I have enough to endure without seeingyou hanging about me!' It is a horrible sight. I am always close at hisheels in the chase, I who sound the horn when he has killed the forestbeasts; I am at the head of all his retainers, and I would give my lifefor his sake; yet when he is at his worst I can hardly keep off my handsfrom his throat, I am so horrified at the way in which he treats hisbeautiful daughter."

  Sperver looked dangerously wroth for a moment, clapped both his spurs tohis mount, and we rode on at a hard gallop.

  I had fallen into a reverie. The cure of a complaint of this descriptionappeared to me more than doubtful, even impossible. It was evidently amental disorder. To fight against it with any hope of success it wouldbe needful to trace it back to its origin, and this would, no doubt, betoo remote for successful investigation.

  All these reflections perplexed me greatly. The old huntsman's story, farfrom strengthening my hopes, only depressed me--not a very favourablecondition to insure success. At about three we came in sight of theancient castle of Nideck on the verge of the horizon. In spite of thegreat distance we could distinguish the projecting turrets, apparentlysuspended from the angles of the edifice. It was but a dim outline barelydistinguishable from the blue sky, but soon the red points of the Vosgesbecame visible.

  At that moment Sperver drew in his bridle and said--

  "Fritz, we shall have to get there before night--onward!"

  But it was in vain that he spurred and lashed. The horse stood rootedto the ground, his ears thrown back, his nostrils dilated, his sidespanting, his legs firmly planted in an attitude of resistance.

  "What is the matter with the beast?" cried Gideon in astonishment. "Doyou see anything, Fritz? Surely--"

  He broke off abruptly, pointing with his whip at a dark form in the snowfifty yards off, on the slope of the hill.

  "The Black Plague!" he exclaimed with a voice of distress which almostrobbed me of my self-possession.

  Following the indication of his outstretched whip I discerned withastonishment an aged woman crouching on the snowy ground, with her armsclasped about her knees, and so tattered that her red elbows came throughher tattered sleeves. A few ragged locks of grey hung about her long,scraggy, red, and vulture-like neck.

  Strange to say, a bundle of some kind lay upon her knees, and her haggardeyes were directed upon distant objects in the white landscape.

  Spencer drew off to the left, giving the hideous object as wide a berthas he could, and I had some difficulty in following him.

  "Now," I cried, "what is all this for? Are you joking?"

  "Joking?--assuredly not! I never joke about such serious matters. I amnot given to superstition, but I confess that I am alarmed at thismeeting!"

  Then turning his head, and noticing that the old woman had not moved, andthat her eyes were fixed upon the same one spot, he appeared to gather alittle courage.

  "Fritz," he said solemnly, "you are a man of learning--you know manythings of which I know nothing at all. Well, I can tell you this, that aman is in the wrong who laughs at a thing because he can't understand it.I have good reasons for calling this woman the Black Plague. She is knownby that name in the whole Black Forest, but here at Nideck she has earnedthat title by supreme right."

  And the good man pursued his way without further observation.

  "Now, Sperver, just explain what you mean," I asked, "for I don'tunderstand you."

  "That woman is the ruin of us all. She is a witch. She is the cause of itall. It is she who is killing the count by inches."

  "How is that possible?" I exclaimed. "How could she exercise such abaneful influence?"

  "I cannot tell how it is. All I know is, that on the very day that theattack comes on, at the very moment, if you will ascend the beacon tower,you will see the Black Plague squatting down like a dark speck on thesnow just between the Tiefenbach and the castle of Nideck. She sits therealone, crouching close to the snow. Every day she comes a little nearer,and every day the attacks grow worse. You would think he hears herapproach. Sometimes on the first day, when the fits of trembling havecome over him, he has said to me, 'Gideon, I feel her coming.' I hold himby the arms and restrain the shuddering somewhat, but he still repeats,stammering and struggling with his agony, and his eyes staring and fixed,'She is coming--nearer--oh--oh--she comes!' Then I go up Hugh Lupus'stower; I survey the country. You know I have a keen eye for distantobjects. At last, amidst the grey mists afar off, between sky and earth,I can just make out a dark speck. The next morning that black spot hasgrown larger. The Count of Nideck goes to bed with chattering teeth. Thenext day again we can make out the figure of the old hag; the fierceattacks begin; the count cries out. The day after, the witch is at thefoot of the mountain, and the consequence is that the count's jaws areset like a vice; his mouth foams; his eyes turn in his head. Vilecreature! Twenty times I have had her within gunshot, and the count hasbid me shed no blood. 'No, Sperver, no; let us have no bloodshed.' Poorman, he is sparing the life of the wretch who is draining his life fromhim, for she is killing him, Fritz; he is reduced to skin and bone."

  My good friend Gideon was in too great a rage with the unhappy woman tomake it possible to bring him back to calm reason. Besides, who can drawthe limits around the region of possibility? Every day we see the rangeof reality extending more widely. Unseen and unknown influences,marvellous correspondences, invisible bonds, some kind of mysteriousmagnetism, are, on the one hand, proclaimed as undoubted facts, anddenied on the other with irony and scepticism, and yet who can say thatafter a while there will not be some astonishing revelations breaking inin the midst of us all when we least expect it? In the midst of so muchignorance it seems easy to lay a claim to wisdom and shrewdness.

  I therefore only begged Sperver to moderate his anger, and by no means tofire upon the Black Plague, warning him that such a proceeding wouldbring serious misfortune upon him.

  "Pooh!" he cried; "at the
very worst they could but hang me."

  But that, I remarked, was a good deal for an honest man to suffer.

  "Not at all," he cried; "it is but one kind of death out of many. You aresuffocated, that is all. I would just as soon die of that as of a hammerfalling on my head, as in apoplexy, or not to be able to sleep, or smoke,or swallow, or digest my food."

  "You, Gideon, with your grey beard, you have learnt a peculiar mode ofreasoning."

  "Grey beard or not, that is my way of seeing things. I always keep a ballin my double-barrelled gun at the witch's service; from time to time Iput in a fresh charge, and if I get the chance--"

  He only added an expressive gesture.

  "Quite wrong, Sperver, quite wrong. I agree with the Count of Nideck, andI say no bloodshed. Oceans cannot wipe away blood shed in anger. Think ofthat, and discharge that barrel against the first boar you meet."

  These words seemed to make some impression upon the old huntsman; he hungdown his head and looked thoughtful.

  We were then climbing the wooded steeps which separate the poor villageof Tiefenbach from the Castle of Nideck.

  Night had closed in. As it always happens with us after a bright clearwinter's day, snow was again beginning to fall, heavy flakes dropped andmelted upon our horses' manes, who were beginning now to pluck up theirspirits at the near prospect of the comfortable stable.

  Now and then Sperver looked over his shoulder with evident uneasiness;and I myself was not altogether free from a feeling of apprehension inthinking of the strange account which the huntsman had given me of hismaster's complaint.

  Besides all this, there is a certain harmony between external nature andthe spirit of a man, and I know of nothing more depressing than a gloomyforest loaded in every branch with thick snow and hoar frost, and moaningin the north wind. The gaunt and weird-looking trunks of the tall pinesand the gnarled and massive oaks look mournfully upon you, and fill youwith melancholy thoughts.

  As we ascended the rocky eminence the oaks became fewer, and scatteredbirches, straight and white as marble pillars, divided the dark green ofthe forest pines, when in a moment, as we issued from a thicket, theancient stronghold stood before us in a heavy mass, its dark surfacestudded with brilliant points of light.

  Sperver had pulled up before a deep gateway between two towers, barred inby an iron grating.

  "Here we are," he cried, throwing the reins on the horses' necks.

  He laid hold of the deer's-foot bell-handle, and the clear sound of abell broke the stillness.

  After waiting a few minutes the light of a lantern flickered in the deeparchway, showing us in its semicircular frame of ruddy light the figureof a humpbacked dwarf, yellow-bearded, broad-shouldered, and wrapped infurs from head to foot.

  You might have thought him, in the deep shadow, some gnome or evil spiritof earth realised out of the dreams of the Niebelungen Lieder.

  He came towards us at a very leisurely pace, and laid his great flatfeatures close against the massive grating, straining his eyes, andtrying to make us out in the darkness in which we were standing.

  "Is that you, Sperver?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

  "Open at once, Knapwurst," was the quick reply. "Don't you know how coldit is?"

  "Oh! I know you now," cried the little man; "there's no mistaking you.You always speak as if you were going to gobble people up."

  The door opened, and the dwarf, examining me with his lantern, with anodd expression in his face, received me with "Willkommen, herr doctor,"but which seemed to say besides, "Here is another who will have to goaway again as others have done." Then he quietly closed the door, whilstwe alighted, and came to take our horses by the bridle.