Chapter XI…

Chapter XI

The following morning was so fine that it might well have cheered even a gloomier spirit than mine. And in my fatigue I had fallen so promptly asleep when I laid my tired head upon the pillow, and had slept so soundly, that it required some consideration upon awaking to recall the circumstances that had caused me so much agitation the previous evening. Gradually they recurred to my memory, and once more my cheeks burned, and I felt, as I always did when under excitement, that I must rush out into the free air and under the blue sky; so I hurried down the steep back-stair into the park.

Here I wandered about under the tall trees, which waved their light sprays in the morning breeze, along the wild paths, and among the bushes brightened with the sunlight, at intervals listening to some bird piping incessantly his monotonous autumn song, or marking some caterpillar swinging by a fathom-long filament from a twig overhead, while I bent my thoughts to the task, so difficult for a young man, of obtaining a clear view of my situation.

I had told Granow the evening before but the simple truth: so long as I had been upon the estate nothing had occurred to confirm his suspicion. During the whole of this time I had scarcely left the side of Herr von Zehren. No strangers had come about the place; there had been no suspicious meetings; no goods had been received, and none sent out, except a barrel or two of wine to the neighbors. To be sure, the people on the estate looked as if they were accustomed to anything rather than honest industry, and especially my tall friend Jock could not possibly have a clear conscience; but the cotters on the various estates around were all a rough, uncouth, piratical-looking crew, as indeed many of them had been fishermen and sailors, and were so still when occasion offered. That the gang which we had seen crossing the heath did not belong to our people, I was convinced when I passed the laborer's cottages, and saw Jock with two or three others lounging about the doors as usual.

And then, granting that Herr von Zehren was really all that evil tongues called him, still he did nothing more or worse than his neighbors. They all dabbled a little in it, Granow had said; and if all these aristocratic gentlemen made no scruple of filling their cellars with wine that they knew to be smuggled, the receiver was as bad as the thief, and Herr von Zehren was here, as always and everywhere, only the bolder man who had the courage to do what the others would willingly have done if they dared.

And, after all, I was bound to him by the firmest ties of gratitude. Should I go away for a mere suspicion, the silly gossip of a prating tongue, and abandon him who had always been so kind, so friendly to me?--who had given me his best--no, his second-best gun and dog; whose purse and cigar-case--and ah, what exquisite cigars he had!--were at all times at my service? Never! And even if he really were a smuggler, a professional smuggler--but how could I find out once for all whether he was or not?

Most simply, by going directly to himself. I had justification for doing so. My honesty was questioned by his friends; they did not know what to think of me. I could not allow this to go on unnoticed. Herr von Zehren could not expect that I should, on his account, incur the dishonoring suspicion of being either a spy or an accomplice. But suppose he were to say: "Very well; then go. I do not detain you."

I seated myself upon a stone-bench under a spreading maple at the edge of the park, and resting my elbow upon the half-fallen table, and leaning my head upon my hand, gazed at the castle which threw its shadow far over the lawn, now golden in the morning sun.

Never had the ruinous old pile seemed so dear to me. How well I knew each tall chimney, each tuft of grass growing upon the gray moss-covered roof of tiles, the three balconies, two small ones to the right and left, and in the middle the great one upon which the three glass doors opened from the upper hall, resting upon its massive pillars with the fantastic voluted capitals. How well I knew each window, with the weather-beaten wooden shutters that were never closed, and the most of which, indeed, were past closing. Some were hanging by a single hinge, and one belonging to the third window to the right always slammed at night when the wind was from the west. I had a dozen times resolved to secure it, but always forgot it again. The two windows at the corner to the left were those of my room, my poetic room with the precious old furniture, which to my eye had such an imposing effect that I felt like a young prince in the midst of all this magnificence. What happy hours had I already passed in this room! Early mornings, when, joyous in the anticipation of the day's sport, I sang as I dressed myself and arranged my ammunition; late evenings when I returned home with my friend, heated with wine and play and jovial discourse, and sitting at the window, inhaled the fragrant aroma of my cigar, or drank in large draughts the pure, cool night-air, while thoughts crowded one another in my mind, foolish and sentimental thoughts, all turning to the fair maiden who doubtless had been slumbering for hours in her chamber by the terrace.

What was it that the shameless slanderer had said of her? I scarcely dared to recall his words to my mind. I could not comprehend how I could have borne to listen to them, or how it was that I let him escape unchastized after so desecrating the object of my idolatry. The miserable creature! The conceited, upstart, envious little oaf! Little blame to her that she would have nothing to do with such a lover as he, or the rest of her country squires. And for this they now breathed their venomous slanders against her: said that she would have sold herself--she, the lovely, the noble, the pure, for whom a king's throne would have been too low! Was there any head more worthy of a diadem--any form more fit to be folded in the mantle of purple? Oh, I desired nothing for myself; it was enough for me if I might touch the hem of her vesture. But the others should honor her as well as I. No one, not if he were prince or king, should dare to approach her without her permission. If she would only, as she had jestingly said that night, let me keep watch at her threshold!

Thus humbly I thought of her in my full, young heart, that was breaking with love and longing. And I did it in the most assured conviction, in the firmest faith, of the nobility and purity of her I loved so dearly. I can truly say there was no drop of blood in my veins that did not belong to her. I would have given my life for her had she asked it of me, had she taken me for the true heart that I was, had she dealt honestly with me. Was it a presentiment of the brief space of time that I was still to cherish the simple faith that there is a spark of virtue in every human breast that nothing can entirely extinguish, that made me now bow my head upon my hands and shed hot tears?

I suddenly lifted my head, for I fancied I heard a rustling close behind me, and I was not mistaken. It was Constance, who came through the bushes hedging the path to the beech-wood. I sprang suddenly in confusion to my feet, and stood before her, ere I had time to wipe the traces of my tears from my cheeks.

"My good George," she said, offering me her hand with a gentle smile, "you are my true friend, are you not?"

I murmured some indistinct reply.

"Let me sit here by you a little while," she said; "I feel somewhat tired; I have been up so long. Do you know where I have been? In the forest by the tarn, and afterwards up at the ruin. Do you know that we have never again gone there together? I was thinking of it this morning, and was sorry; it is so beautiful up on the cliffs, and walking with you is so pleasant. Why do you never come there to bring me home? Don't you remember what you promised me: to be my faithful George, and kill all the dragons in my path? How many have you killed?"

She glanced at me from under her long lashes with her unfathomable brown eyes, and abashed I looked upon the ground. "Why do you not answer?" she asked. "Has my father forbidden you?"

"No," I replied, "but I do not know whether you are not mocking me. You have shown me lately so little kindness, that at last I have hardly dared to speak to you or even to look at you."

"And you really do not know why I have lately been less friendly towards you?"

"No," I answered, and added softly, "unless it be because I am so much attached to your father; and how can I be otherwise?"

Her looks darkened, "And if that were the reason," she said, "could you blame me? My father does not love me; he has given me too many proofs of that. How can any one love me who is 'so much attached to my father?'"--she spoke the last words with bitterness--"who perhaps reports to him every word that I say, and to the watchers and tale-bearers by whom I am surrounded adds another, so much the more dangerous as I should have expected from him anything but treachery."

"Treachery--treachery from me?" I exclaimed with horror.

"Yes, treachery," she answered, speaking in a lower tone, but more rapidly and passionately. "I know that Sophie, my maid, is bribed; I know that old Christian, who skulks about, day and night, watches me like a prisoner. I am not at all sure that old Pahlen, who shows some devotion to me, would not sell me for a handful of thalers. Yes, I am betrayed, betrayed on all sides. Whether by you--no; I will trust your honest blue eyes, although I had really good reason for suspecting you."

I was half distracted to hear Constance speaking thus; and I implored her, I adjured her, to tell me what horrible delusion had deceived her, for that it was a delusion I was ready to prove. She should, she must tell me all.

"Well then," she said, "is it delusion or truth that on the very first evening of your stay here, by order of my father, who brought you here for that purpose, you kept watch under my window, when afterwards you pretended to me that it was my music that had attracted you?"

I started at these last words, which were accompanied with a dark suspicious look. That dark figure then had really been stealing to a rendezvous; and he had been there since, else how could she know what had happened?

"You need make no further confession," said Constance, bitterly. "You have not yet sufficiently learned your lesson of dissimulation. And I, good-natured fool, believed that you were my faithful George."

I was near weeping with grief and indignation.

"For heaven's sake," I cried, "do not condemn me without a hearing. I went into the park without any special intention; without an idea that I should meet him--any one. If I had known that the man whom I saw from this point come out of the shrubbery yonder, came with your permission, I should never have intercepted him, but would have let him go unmolested where, as it seems, he was expected."

"Who says that he came by my permission, and that he was expected?" she asked.

"Yourself," I promptly answered. "The fact that you are informed of what none but he and I could know."

Constance glanced at me, and a smile passed across her features. "Indeed!" she said, "how skilful we are at combinations! Who would have believed it of us? But you are mistaken. I know of it from him, that is true; but I did not expect him, nor had he my permission. More than this: I solemnly assure you that I had no idea that he was so near. 'And now?' your look seems to inquire. Now he is as far as he ever was. He wrote to me by a medium--no matter how--that he made an attempt to see me on that evening, in order to communicate something which he did not wish me to learn from another. I answered him by the same way that I had already learned it through another, and that for the sake both of his peace and my own, I entreated him to make no attempt to approach me. This is all, nor will there ever be more. It is not my custom to ask of those that love me, to sacrifice for me their futures and their lives. And that would be the case here. That person can enter into no engagements without his father's consent, and my father has taken care that this consent shall never be given. He will only be free after his father's death. Before this happens years may pass. He shall not sacrifice those years to me."

"And he consents to this," I cried, indignantly; "he does not rather renounce his title and inheritance than give you up? He does not rather allow himself to be torn to pieces than renounce you? And this man possesses millions, and calls himself a prince."

"You know, then, who it was?" asked Constance, apparently alarmed, adding with bitterness: "To be sure, why should you not? Of course you are my father's confidant, and told him the whole adventure at once, as in duty bound."

"I never breathed a word of it to any living creature," I answered, "nor has Herr von Zehren ever in my presence uttered the name of the prince."

"What need of the name?" she retorted. "Things can be plainly told without mentioning names. But, whatever he may have told you, he never told you that Carl is my betrothed; that our union was prevented by his fault alone; that he has ruthlessly sacrificed my happiness to a haughty caprice, to revenge himself upon the father of my betrothed at the cost of us both; and that far from offering me an at least tolerable existence in requital for the brilliant future out of which he has cheated me, makes my life a daily and hourly torment. He killed my mother, and he will kill me."

"For God's sake, do not talk in that way," I cried.

"This life is no life; it is death--worse than death," she murmured, letting her head sink upon the table.

"Then you still love him who has abandoned you?" I said.

"No," she replied, raising her head; "no! I have already told you that as it is, so it must remain. I have freely and entirely renounced him. I am too proud to give my heart--which is all I have to give--to one who does not give me all in return. And, George, can one give more than his heart?"

I would have answered, "Then, Constance, you have my all;" but my voice failed me. I could but gaze at her with a look in which lay my whole heart--the full heart of a youth, overflowing with foolish, faithful love.

She pressed my hand, and said, "My good George, I will--yes, I must believe that you are true to me. And now that we have had our talk out, and are good friends again, let us go to the house, where old Pahlen will be expecting me to breakfast."

She had fallen at once into the tone in which we had commenced the conversation, and continued:

"Do you go shooting to-day? Are you fond of shooting? I used to go sometimes; but that is long ago--so long ago! I used to be a good rider, and now I think I could not keep my seat in the saddle. I have unlearned everything; but chiefly how to be gay. Are you always cheerful, George? I often hear you singing in the morning such charming merry songs; you have a fine voice. You should teach me your songs; I know none but sad ones."

How enchanting this prattle was to me! But as her recent unkindness had made me silent and reserved, so now the unlooked-for kindness she showed me produced the same effect. I went by her side, with a half confused, half happy smile upon my face, across the wide lawn to the house, where, on reaching her terrace, we separated, after exchanging another pressure of the hand.

In three bounds I had ascended the steep stair, flung open violently the door of my room, but stopped upon the threshold with some surprise, as I saw Herr von Zehren sitting in the great high-backed chair at the window.

He half turned his head, and said:

"You have kept me waiting long; I have been sitting here fully an hour."

This did not tend to restore my composure; from his chair one could see across the lawn directly to the seat under the maple. If Herr von Zehren had been sitting here an hour, he had certainly seen with his keen eyes much more than I could have wished. I returned his salutation with great embarrassment, which certainly did not diminish when he said, with a gesture towards the seat: "Mary Stuart, George, eh? Sir Paulet the cruel jailor with the great bunch of keys? Enthusiastic Mortimer--'Life is but a moment, and death but another'--eh? Faithless Lord Leicester, who has the convenient habit of taking ship for France as soon as heads are in danger!"

He filliped the ash from his cigar, and then with one of those instantaneous changes of humor to which I had grown accustomed, began to laugh aloud, and said:

"No, my dear George, you must not turn such a look of indignation upon me. I am really your friend; and, as I said to you yesterday, it is no fault of yours, and I frankly ask you to forgive me if I yesterday for a moment made you suffer for what you are entirely innocent of. She has to play her comedies; she has done it from a child. I have indeed often feared that she gets it from her unhappy mother. Many a one has suffered from it, and I not the least; but you I would willingly save. I have often enough warned you indirectly, and now do it plainly. What are you about?"

I had, at his last words, hurried across the room and seized my hat, which hung by the door. "What are you about?" he cried again, springing from his chair, and catching me by the arm.

"I am going," I stammered, while my eyes filled with tears that I vainly endeavored to repress, "away from here. I cannot bear to hear Fräulein Constance thus spoken of."

"And then it would be such a happy opportunity to get away from me too," said he, fixing his large dark eyes upon mine with a piercing look; "is it not so?"

"Yes," I answered, collecting all my firmness, "and from you too."

"Go then," he said.

I moved towards the door, and was feeling for the latch, for my eyes were blinded with tears.

"George," he cried, "George!"

The tone cut me to the heart; I turned, and seizing both his hands, exclaimed:

"No; I cannot do it. You have been so good to me; I cannot leave you of my own will."

Herr von Zehren led me gently to the great chair, and paced several times up and down the room, while I buried my head in my hands. Then he stood before me and said:

"What did Granow say to you yesterday? Did he slander me to you as he has slandered you to me? Did he warn you against me, as he has warned me against you? No; do not answer; I do not want to know. It is just as if I had been there and heard it all. Every one knows how double-tongued old women talk."

"Then it is not true?" I exclaimed, starting from the chair. "Certainly, certainly, it is not true; I never believed it. I did not believe that miserable creature yesterday--not for one moment."

"And now only, for the first time?" said he, turning his piercing look again upon me. But I did not again lower my eyes; I met his gaze firmly, and calmly answered:

"I will not believe it until I hear it from your own lips."

"And if I confirm it, what then?"

"Then I will implore you to have nothing more to do with it. It cannot end well, and it fills me with horror to think that it might end terribly."

"You think," he said, and a bitter smile contracted his features, "that it would not be a pleasant thing to read in the papers: 'To-day Malte von Zehren of Zehrendorf was condemned to twenty years' hard labor, and in pursuance of his sentence was conveyed to the penitentiary at S., the director of which, as is well known, is the brother of the criminal?' Well, it would not be the first time that a Zehren was an inmate of a prison."

He laughed, and began to speak with vehemence, sometimes pacing the room, and then stopping before me.

"Not the first time. When I was young--it may now be thirty years ago, or more--there stood in their cursed nest, in a waste place between the town wall and the ramparts, an old half-rotten gallows, and on the gallows were nailed two rusty iron plates, upon which there stood half-defaced names, and one of these names was Malte von Zehren, with the date 1436. I recognized it by the date; and one night, with the friend of my youth, Hans von Trantow--the father of our Hans--I wrenched it off, cut down the gallows, and pitched it over the rampart into the fosse. Do you know how my ancestor's name came there? He had a feud with the Peppersacks there in the town, and they had sworn, if they caught him, to hang him on the gallows. And though he heard of it, and knew that there would be no mercy for him, he slipped into the town in disguise, during the carnival, for the love of a townsman's pretty daughter. You see, my dear George, the women--they are at the bottom of all mischief. And they caught him too, early next morning, as he was stealing away, flung him into the dungeon, and the next day he was to be hanged, to the delight of all the good townsfolk. But a page who accompanied him, and who had escaped, carried the news to Hans von Trantow, and Hans sent off a score of riders to all cousins and kinsfolk over the whole island, and that night they crossed over in twenty boats, two hundred of them, with Hans at their head, forced their way into the town, broke into the dungeon and rescued my ancestor, the good fellows, and then set the old nest on fire at its four corners and burned it down. So as the townsmen had lost Malte von Zehren, they contented themselves with nailing his name upon the gallows.

"And what was the origin of the feud? The Sound-dues, which the Lords of Zehren had levied for centuries, and which the Peppersacks now laid claim to. By what right? I ask you now, by what right? At a time when their pedlars' nest was a mere cluster of hovels inhabited by wretched fishermen, the Zehrens were living as lords and masters in a block-house surrounded by a rampart, as men used to do in the earliest times; then in a castle of stone, with towers and battlements, and as far as the eye can reach from up yonder over forests and coves into the island, no hearth smoked in house or hut at which vassals and retainers of the castle did not warm themselves; and as far as the eye can reach from up there over the sea, no sail swelled and no pennon flew that did not pay tribute to the castle. Do you think, young man, that things like these can be forgotten? Do you suppose that I can learn to feel myself under one law with a crew that crawled before my ancestors in the dust? or to acknowledge any master over me? By the grace of God--and what is that? Where were these fellows 'by the grace of God' four or five hundred years ago? I could sit where they sit now, with just as good a right; my escutcheon instead of theirs would flaunt on every gate and guard-house, and in my name would tolls and taxes be levied. And now 'sdeath! here I sit, a Lord Lack-all, in this box of stone, which before long will fall in over my head, and not a foot of the soil on which I tread can I call my own. See there--" he stepped to the open window, and pointed out with a hand trembling with emotion--"you once asked me why I did not turn those into money. There are thousands upon thousands in the forest, and I answered that I had not the heart to have the old trees hewn down. It was the truth; I could not do it; and the only right that I have over them is that I can keep them from being cut down as long as I live. Not a tree belongs to me--not a sapling--not enough to serve for my coffin; every twig belongs to that mountebank, your Cr[oe]sus, who calls himself commerzienrath, and is well named Streber [Striver.] I see the stockfish still, distorting his crooked mouth as he counted down the pittance on the table and crammed the contract into his pocket. He thought: 'It will not last him long, and then he will blow out his brains.' It has not lasted long; and he may have been as correct in his other anticipation.

"But I cannot imagine what talkative demon possesses me this morning; I believe that I have been infected by that old washerwoman, Granow. Or perhaps it is because I have to make up for yesterday evening. In truth, George, I missed you exceedingly. Trantow, the good fellow, brought me home out of pure compassion, because he saw what a trial it would be to me to smoke my last cigar alone. And I tell you it cost me dearly that you were not with me. It went hard with me, George, terribly hard. Old hawk as I am, they plucked me until the feathers flew; but we will pay them back this evening. We shall meet at Trantow's, where I have always been lucky; but you are not to quit my side. And now drink your coffee, and come down in half an hour; I have a letter or two to write; the steuerrath wants to be once more delivered from his thousand-and-one embarrassments; but this time I cannot help him, at all events not today; he must wait awhile yet. In half an hour then, and afterwards we will go down to the beach. I feel a little feverish to-day, and the sea-breeze will do me good."

He went, and left me in a singular frame of mind. I felt as if he had told me everything, and yet, when I thought it over, it was no more than what he had often said to me before. I felt as if I had bound myself to him body and soul, and yet he had taken no promise from me. But this was just the thing which made me feel more than ever attached to this singular man. If he was magnanimous enough not to take me with him upon his ship, which he saw was driving to destruction, could I stand calmly on the safe shore and watch him struggling and sinking in the waves?

My youthful fancy kindled at his romantic story of the knight who had been at feud with my native town. I wished that I had been there; I fancied myself playing the part of the page who made his way out at risk of his life to bring help and rescue to his beloved lord. Should my thoughts be more mean, my actions more craven than those of that boy? And were we not in similar circumstances? Was not my knight at the last extremity? Had not the Peppersacks taken his all?--left him nothing of all the heritage of his ancestors--him, that kingly man? How he had stood before me, the tall noble form with flashing eyes, and anguish imprinted in his pale, deeply-furrowed face with its flowing beard. This man to have planned to sell his daughter! And a creature like the commerzienrath should one day be lord here in his stead! The creature with his close-shaven fox-face, his blinking, thievish eyes, and his clumsy, greedy hands; the man who had foredoomed me to the gallows. Yes, they had dealt with me no better than with my knight. They had driven me out of the town, and now, thank heaven, I had a right to hate them as I had always despised.

Thus my foolish brain was heated more and more. The charm of adventure, the inward delight in this uncontrolled life, which I called liberty, a monstrous confusion of the conceptions of right and duty, gratitude, hot blood of youth, passionate first-love--all held me spell-bound in this charmed circle, which was a world to me. All drew me with irresistible force to the man who seemed to me the perfect ideal of a knight and a hero, to the lovely maiden who so far exceeded my wildest dreams. And the fact that these two, to whom I clung with equal love, stood opposed to each other, only tended to confirm the dream of my own indispensability. In their several ways, each had been equally kind to me, had shown me equal confidence. The fulfilment of my most ardent wish, that of seeing them reconciled, had never appeared so near as this morning, when I paced my room and looked out of the windows at the blue sky, in which great white motionless clouds were standing, and upon the park whose majestic groups of trees and broad expanses of grass were magically lighted by the splendor of the sun.

How could I have believed that these white clouds would so soon spread into a sable pall and obscure that sun--that I had seen my paradise in its magic radiance for the last time?

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Chapter XII

The confidence with which Herr von Zehren had looked forward to that evening, which at the very least was to repair his former ill-fortune, was after all a deceitful one. It may be that an incident which occurred just previously, deprived him of that coolness which this evening he more than ever needed. For on our way up from the beach, where we had shot a brace of rabbits among the dunes, as crossing the heath we drew near to Trantowitz, a cavalcade of ladies and gentlemen, attended by a couple of liveried servants, came galloping by. My attention was entirely attracted by a slender young man riding a superb English horse, who, at the moment he passed me, was leaning over to one of the ladies with a charming smile on his pale face, on which a downy moustache just darkened the upper lip. The lady gave her horse a sudden cut with the whip, and they shot on in advance. I gazed for a moment after the company, and was turning to Herr von Zehren with the question: "Who are they?" when I checked myself in surprise at the change in his countenance. We had just been chatting pleasantly together, and there now lay in his looks an expression of the blackest wrath, and he had unslung his gun and half raised it to his shoulder, as if he would send a shot after the retreating party. Then he flung it hastily over his shoulder again, and walked a short distance silent at my side, until he suddenly broke out into the most furious execrations, which I had never before heard from him, though he could be angry enough upon occasion. "The hound!" he exclaimed, "he dares to come here upon the soil that belongs to my friend Trantow! And I stand quietly here and do not drive a charge of shot through him! Do you know who that was, George? The villain who will one day be lord of a hundred manors which by right are all mine, whose ancestors were my ancestors' vassals, and whose scoundrelly father came to me to tell me in my own apartment that he desired to marry his son according to his rank, and that he trusted we could come to some satisfactory arrangement. I clutched him by his accursed throat, and would have strangled him if others had not come between us. The thing has been gnawing at my heart incessantly, ever since I heard that the villain was going about the neighborhood here. And now you know why Constance and I are upon so unfortunate a footing. Heaven knows what fancies she is nursing; and it drives me mad to see that her thoughts still cling to the miscreant who has offered her the grossest insult that man can offer to woman; who has tarnished my ancestral escutcheon, and should fight me to the death, but for----"

He checked himself suddenly, and walked silently by my side, gnawing his lip. Not noticing the irregularities of the wretched road, he stumbled once or twice, and this stumbling, combined with the expression of his face, in which the wrinkles deepened to furrows whenever he was under strong emotion, gave him the appearance of a broken old man consumed by impotent anger. Never before had he appeared so much in need of help, so worthy of compassion, and never before had I pitied him so, or so yearned to assist him. At the same time I thought that so favorable an opportunity to clear up the misunderstanding that evidently existed between father and daughter in reference to their relations with the prince, would not easily again occur. So I plucked up a heart and asked:

"Does Fräulein Constance know how much she has been insulted?"

"How? What do you mean?" he asked in return.

I told him what I had been speaking of with Constance that morning; how little suspicion she seemed to have of the outrage that had been offered her; that on the contrary she had expressly told me that she had been betrothed to the prince, that their predetermined union had been prevented by Herr von Zehren's fault alone, and that she had renounced freely and utterly all thought of the possibility of their marriage. But the audacity with which he had attempted to approach her, the correspondence which had taken place between them, I kept to myself, feeling that this would only awaken anew the wrath of the Wild Zehren, and render him deaf to all reason.

But it was all to no purpose. He listened to me with every sign of impatience, and when I paused for breath in my eagerness, he broke out:

"Does she say that? What will she not say? And that too now, after I have told her not once, but a hundred times, what was asked of me, how my honor and my name were trampled in the mire! She will next asseverate that the Emperor of China has been a suitor for her hand, and that it is my fault that she is not now enthroned in Pekin! Why not? Turandot is as pretty a part as Mary Stuart. Prepare yourself soon to see her in Chinese attire."

It was easy to perceive how little mirth lay in these mocking words, and I did not venture to press further so painful a theme. We came, besides, in a few minutes to Trantowitz, where Hans received us at the door with his good-natured laugh, and led us into his living-room, (which, besides his chamber, was the sole habitable apartment in the great house,) where the other guests were assembled.

The evening passed like so many others. Play began before supper, and was resumed after that meal, during which the bottle had circulated freely. I had resolved not to play, and could the more easily keep this resolution, as all the rest, with the exception of our host, whom nothing could move from his accustomed equanimity, were entirely absorbed by the unusually high play, and had not time to pay any attention to me.

So there I sat, in the recess of a window, at a little distance from the table, and watched the company, whose behavior now, when I was not a participant in it, seemed strange enough. The fiery eyes in the flushed faces; the silence only broken by the monotonous phrases of the banker, or a hoarse laugh or muttered curse from the players; the avidity with which they poured down the flasks of wine; the whole scene wrapped in a gray cloud of cigar-smoke which grew denser every moment;--it was far from a pleasant sight, and strange, confused, painful thoughts whirled through my weary brain, as I sat watching the fortunes of the play, and listening at intervals to the rustling of the night-wind that bent the old poplars before the house, and drove a few rain-drops against the windows. Suddenly I was aroused from a half doze by a loud uproar that broke out among the players. They sprang from their chairs and vociferated at each other with wild looks and threatening gestures; but the tumult subsided as quickly as it had arisen, and they sat again bending in silence over their cards, and once more I listened to the wind in the poplars, and the dashing of the rain against the panes, until at last I fell asleep.

A hand upon my shoulder aroused me. It was Herr von Zehren. The first look at his pale face, from which his eyes were flashing wildly, told me that he had been losing again, and he confirmed it as we walked back the short distance to Zehrendorf through the black tempestuous night.

"It is all over with me," he said; "my old luck has abandoned me; the sooner I blow out my brains the better. To be sure, I have a week yet. Sylow, who is a good fellow, has given me so much time. In a week perhaps all may be managed; only to-morrow the draft falls due, and of course my brother cannot pay it. I must see about it, I must see about it."

He spoke more to himself than to me. Suddenly he stopped, looked up at the black lowering clouds, then walked on, muttering between his teeth:

"I knew it, I knew it, as soon as I saw the villain. It could not but bring me ill-luck; his accursed face has always brought me misfortune. And now to have to see how they quaff the foam from the beaker of life, while they leave us the bitter dregs! And I cannot have revenge--cannot take his life!"

We had reached a piece of woods near the house, which was really a projecting corner of the forest, but was considered as part of the park. The road here divided; the broader fork led along the edge of the wood; and the narrower, which was only a foot-path, ran directly through the trees. This was the nearer way, but also the rougher and darker, and Herr von Zehren, who in his present ill-humor had more than once grumbled at the darkness and the bad road, proposed that we should not take our usual path through the park.

"I should like to find out," I said, "if the buck whose tracks we saw day before yesterday, is belling in the south forest again. We cannot hear it from here, but in there we ought to hear it."

"You go through, then," he said, "but do not stay too long."

"I expect I shall be at the other side before you."

It was not so dark in the woods as I had feared; at times the moon shone pretty bright through the scudding clouds. I reproached myself for leaving Herr von Zehren alone at this hour, and had thoughts of turning back; but, impelled by the hunter's ardor, I pushed on, slowly and cautiously, often stopping and listening, while I held my breath, to see if I could catch any sound of the buck in the woods. Once I thought I heard a faint bellow, but I was not quite sure. If so, it must be very distant, and in a different quarter from where we expected the buck to be at this hour. It might be another. I was anxious to find out, and stood still again to listen. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me like the trot of a horse coming along the path in which I was. My heart stopped for an instant, and then began to beat violently. Who could be the rider, in the dead of night, upon a path lying alongside the main road to the castle?

The sound of the horse's hoofs, at first faint, had grown louder, and then suddenly ceased. In its place I now distinctly heard the steps of a man coming through the woods towards the place where I was standing, a little out of the path, in the dark shadow of some high trees. It could be no one but he. My heart, that was violently beating, cried to me that it could be no one but he. I tore the gun from my shoulder, as Herr von Zehren had done at the sight of the man he hated. Then, as he had done, I threw it back over my shoulder, so that I had both arms free. What did I need for such a fellow but those two arms of mine?

And just then I saw him plainly before me, as the moon slipped from behind a black cloud, and threw through the trees a clear light exactly upon the place where he was passing: the same slender form, and even in the same riding-dress--a low-crowned hat, close-fitting coat, trimmed with fur, and boots of soft leather reaching half-way up the thigh--one bound, one clutch--I had him in my hands!

The surprise must have paralyzed him at the moment, for he uttered no cry, and scarcely made a movement. But this was only for a moment, and then with an exertion of strength for which I had not given him credit, he strove to free himself from my grasp. So might a leopard, caught in the hunter's net, struggle frantically, leap, rend with his claws, and waste his strength in convulsive efforts. The struggle lasted perhaps a minute, during which time no word was spoken on either side, nor was any sound audible but our panting. At last his struggles grew weaker and weaker, his breath began to fail, and finally, yielding, he panted:

"Let me go!"

"Not so soon!"

"In my breast pocket is a pocket-book, with probably a hundred thalers in it; take them, but let me go!"

"Not for a million!" I said, forcing him, as his strength was utterly exhausted, down to his knees.

"What do you want? Do you mean to murder me?" he panted.

"Only to give you a lesson," I said, and picked up his riding-whip, which had fallen while we were struggling, the silver handle of which caught my eye as it glittered in the moonlight.

"For God's sake, do not do that," he said, grasping convulsively the hand in which I held the whip. "Kill me on the spot; I will not move nor utter a cry; but do not strike me!"

Such a request in such a tone could not fail to make a powerful impression upon a heart like mine. I no longer beheld in my antagonist the enemy of the Wild Zehren his daughter's lover. I saw in him only a boy who was in my power, and who would rather die than undergo disgrace. Involuntarily the hand with which I grasped him by the breast unclosed; indeed I believe I lifted him to his feet.

Scarcely did he feel himself free, when he hastily stepped back a few paces, and in a tone the lightness of which was in strong contrast with the terror he had first felt, said:

"If you were a nobleman, you should give me satisfaction; but as you are not, I warn you to be on your guard: I do not always travel without arms."

He slightly touched his hat, turned upon his heel, and walked back by the way he had come.

I stood as if rooted to the spot, and gazed after the slender figure, which soon vanished in the dark shadows of the forest. I knew that with a bound or two I could overtake him, but I felt not the slightest impulse to attempt it. The young prince had rightly judged the young plebeian. I would as lief have hewn off my hand as to raise it again against a man whom I had in a manner pardoned. And then I thought of what Granow had said, that were he the prince, he would not like to meet Herr von Zehren, and how very nearly this meeting had taken place, and that too at a moment when it would have given the Wild Zehren delight to shed his enemy's blood, and his own afterwards.

And now I heard a slight neigh, and then the gallop of a horse.

"Thank heaven!" I cried, drawing a deep breath, "it is better so, and it will be a lesson to him."

I thought no more of the buck. I scarcely listened when he began to bellow, at no great distance from me. I hurried on at a run to make up for the time I had lost, and in deep anxiety lest Herr von Zehren should have heard the gallop of the horse, for it was not possible that he could have heard anything that had happened in the wood.

But my anxiety was without cause. The Wild Zehren was too safely plunged in reflections over his misfortune for his senses to be as acute as they usually were. He did not even ask me about the buck; and I was glad that I was under no necessity of speaking. Thus we walked silently on until we reached the castle.

In the hall we were met as usual by the sleepless old Christian. Letters had come by express: he had laid them on his master's writing-table.

"Come in," said Herr von Zehren, "while I see what they are about."

We entered. "This one is for you, and so is this," he said, handing me two of the letters from the table.

The first letter was from my friend Arthur. It read:

"You have not sent me the money I asked you for; but that is the way: when we have anything, our friends may look out for themselves. I only write to you now, in order through you to entreat my uncle to do something to help papa. Our affairs must be in an awful state, for the merchant G.--you know whom I mean--from whom I borrowed twenty-five, saw papa about it to-day, and I did not get the smallest scolding. Mamma howls all day long. I wish I was a thousand miles away.

"P. S.--Papa has just come from Uncle Commerzienrath with a terribly long face. It is plain that the old Philistine will do nothing for us. I tell you Uncle Malte must help us, for we are in a terrible strait."

The second letter was from my father.

"My Son:--In renouncing your filial obedience to me, you compelled me to abandon all control over you. I have vowed not to restore you to your place as my son, until you acknowledge your misconduct and entreat me to do so; and this vow I will keep. To the choice that you have made for yourself, I have offered no opposition, have allowed you perfect freedom of action, for which you have always hankered, and am resolved to do this for the future. But all this cannot prevent me from wishing, with all my heart, that it may be well with you in the path that you have chosen for yourself, though I doubt it much; nor can it keep me from warning you where warning seems necessary. And this is now the case. Things have reached my ears concerning Herr von Zehren, which I trust in heaven may be founded upon error, but which are of such a nature that I think with horror of my son being in the house of a man under such suspicions, even if false. What I have heard I cannot reveal to you, as the information has reached me in the line of my official duties.

"I know that notwithstanding your disobedience, you are incapable of a base action, and that therefore you are so far safe, even if those suspicions are true, which God forbid. Still I entreat you, if you have any regard left for my peace, to leave the house of Herr von Zehren at once. I add what is scarcely necessary, that for the obedient son I shall be, what I have always been, his strict but just father."

I had read this letter twice through, and sat still gazing at the writing, incapable of clear reflection, when Herr von Zehren aroused me by asking: "Well, George, and what have you there?" I handed him both letters. He read them, paced the room a while, and then stopping before me said:

"And what do you propose to do?"

"The opportunity is a good one," he went on, seeing that I hesitated to answer. "I have a letter from the steuerrath which compels me to start for the town within the hour. I will take you with me; it is now twelve o'clock, and in three hours we can be there; you can ring up the old gentleman; sleep an hour or two in the garret of which you have so often told me; thank God to-morrow morning that you are clear of the Wild Zehren, and--go back again to school."

He spoke the last words with a slight contempt, which galled the most sensitive part in the heart of a young man, that of false pride.

"I will go with you wherever you go!" I exclaimed, starting up. "I said so this morning, and I now repeat it. Tell me what I shall do."

Herr von Zehren again paced the room for a few moments, and then paused before me and said in an agitated voice:

"Remain here--for a day or two at all events, until I return. You will do me a service."

I looked at him interrogatively.

"If you return now to-day," he continued, "that will only have the effect of confirming the rumors of which your father writes. The rats are leaving the house, they will say, and justly. And just now it is of importance to me that people shall say nothing, that as little attention as possible shall be directed to me. Do you understand, George?"

"No," I answered; "why now especially?"

I looked fixedly at him; he bore the scrutiny, and after a while answered, speaking slowly and in a low voice:

"Ask no further, George. Perhaps I would tell you if you could help me; perhaps I would not. They say of me that I use men and then throw them away when they can be of no further service to me. It may be so; I do not know that the most deserve any better treatment. With you, at all events, I would not thus deal, for I like you. And now go to bed, and let the Wild Zehren play out the game. Perhaps he will break the bank, and then I promise you it will be the last of his playing."

At this moment the wagon drove up; while reading my father's letter, I had not heard the order to old Christian to have the horses put to. Herr von Zehren looked through his papers, put some in his pocket, and locked others in his cabinet. Then old Christian helped him on with his furred cloak, he put on his hat, and stepping up to me, offered me his hand.

I had watched all his movements in a sort of stupefaction.

"And I cannot help you?" I now asked.

"No," he replied, "or only by waiting quietly here until I return. Your hand is cold as ice; go to bed."

I accompanied him to the door. His hunting-wagon was waiting, and long Jock, who usually filled the office of coachman, was on the front seat.

"The wagon will only take me to the ferry, and then return," said Herr von Zehren.

"And Jock?" I asked in a whisper.

"Goes with me."

"Take me in his place," I asked, imploringly.

"It cannot be," he said, with his foot upon the step.

"I entreat you," I urged, holding him by the cloak.

"It cannot be," he repeated. "We have not a minute to spare. Good-night! Drive on!"

The wagon drove off; the dogs yelped and barked, and then all was still again. Old Christian hobbled across the yard with his lantern, and vanished into one of the old buildings. I stood alone before the house, under the trees, in which the wind roared. The rain began to fall in torrents; shivering I returned to the house and carefully secured the door.

The light was still burning in Herr von Zehren's room. I went to get it and also my letters that were lying upon his table. As I took them I espied a paper on the floor, and picked it up to see what it was. A few words were written upon it, and I had read them before I thought what I was doing. The words were these:

"I am ruined if you do not save me. G. will give me no more time; St. is immovable; the draft will be protested. I put myself in your hands. You have held me above water too long to let me drown now. The moment, too, is as favorable as possible for the matter you know of. I can and will take care that no one sees our cards. But whatever is done, must be done at once. I have not always the game in my hand. Come at once, I adjure you, by what is most sacred to you--by our ancient name! Burn this at once."

The paper was not signed, but I recognized the writing immediately. I had seen it often enough in the documents on my father's table, and I could at once have affixed the signature with its pretentious flourish, which I had often enough tried to imitate.

This paper Herr von Zehren must have dropped while hastily thrusting it with the others into his pocket.

I looked at it again, and was once more trying to unriddle its enigmatical contents, when the candle, already burned to the socket, gave signs of going out. "Burn this at once!"--it was as if a voice had uttered this command close to my ear. I held the paper in the flame; it blazed up; the candle went out at the same moment; a glowing scrap of tinder fluttered to my feet, and then all around me was thickest darkness.

I groped my way from the room, through the dining-room to the hall, up the narrow stairway to my chamber, and after searching in vain for a match, threw myself dressed upon my bed.

But in vain did I, tossing restlessly upon my couch, endeavor to sleep. Every moment I started up in terror, fancying in my excitement that I heard a voice calling for help, or a step hurrying towards my door, while I kept racking my brain in the vain attempt to devise some plan for rescuing the two so dear to me from the ruin which I had a presentiment was impending over them, whose coming the elements themselves seemed to announce in thunder; and execrated my cowardice, my indecision, my helplessness.

It was a fearful night.

A terrible storm had arisen; the wind raved about the old pile, which shook to its foundations. The tiles came clattering down from the roofs; the rusted weather-cocks groaned and creaked; the shutters banged, and the third shutter to the right made frantic efforts now or never to get loose from the single hinge by which it had hung for years. The screech-owls in the crevices of the walls hooted dismally, and the dogs howled, while the gusts of wind dashed torrents of rain against the windows.

It seemed as if the ancient mansion of Zehrendorf knew what fate was awaiting its possessor and itself.

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Chapter XIII

My first sensation, as I awaked late, was a feeling of thankfulness that it was day; my second was one of shame at having been so powerfully affected by the terrors of the night. When but a small boy, I used to think that I cast the most odious reproach upon an adversary when I termed him a coward, and this morning I felt that the same stigma might be justly affixed to myself. But that comes, I said to myself while dressing, from not looking things in the face and telling people the truth. Why did I not frankly say to Herr von Zehren, I know the object of your journey? He would then have taken me with him, and I should not have to sit here like a child that is kept in the house when it rains.

I opened a window and looked out, in a gloomy frame of mind, and the scene that met my eyes was far from cheerful. The wind, which blew from the west, drove swirling masses of gray mist through the gigantic trees, which tossed their mighty arms about, as if in torment, above the wide lawn which had so often charmed me with its long waving grass, and which now was a mere morass. A flock of crows flew up with harsh cawings into the stormy air, which hurled them about at its pleasure. At this moment the wind flung to a shutter with so much violence that fragments of the rotten wood flew about my head. I tore away from the hinge what was left of it, and threw it down. "I'll not be troubled by you tonight, at all events," I said, fastening the window again, and then I determined to take the rest in hand. Leaving my own room, I made the round of the upper story. As I opened the door of the room where the pile of books lay, a dozen rats sprang down from the window-sills and dived into their hiding-places. The rain had driven in through some broken panes, and the gray rascals had been enjoying the welcome refreshment. "You have not quitted the house yet, it seems," I said, recalling Herr von Zehren's words; "should I be more cowardly than you, you thievish crew?"

I climbed over the pile of books to the nearest door, and wandered through the empty rooms, securing all the shutters that had any fastenings left, and lifting from their hinges and throwing down those that were past securing. The one belonging to the third window, which had been the principal object of my expedition, had terminated its afflicted existence in the night.

On my way back I entered the hall with the great staircase, where in the dim light that fell through the dull panes covered with dust and cobwebs, it looked more ghostly than ever. A suit of armor which was fastened to the wall at some height from the floor, it required no great stretch of fancy to turn into the corpse of a hanged man. I wondered if it was the armor of that Malte von Zehren whose name, in default of himself, the honest burghers of my native town had affixed to their gallows.

I do not know what put it into my head to descend the staircase and wander about the narrow passages of the lower story. My footsteps sounded eerily hollow in the vacant corridors; and the chilly damp from the bare walls, like those of a vault, seemed to strike doubly cold to my feverish frame. Perhaps I had an idea of punishing myself for my terrors of the past night, and of demonstrating to myself the childishness of my apprehensions. Still it was not without a start and a decidedly uncomfortable feeling that I suddenly came upon an opening in the wall at a spot which I had often before passed without perceiving any sign of a door, through which opening I caught sight of a yawning black chasm, at the bottom of which a faint glimmer of light was perceptible. Peering more closely into it, I could make out the commencement of a flight of steps. Without a moment's hesitation I began, at peril of my neck, to descend a narrow and very steep stair, slowly groping my way with both hands touching the wall on each side of me, until the faint glimmer at the bottom suddenly disappeared. As I reached the floor of the cellar it became visible again, but not now an uncertain glimmer, but a distinct light moving about a short distance from me, and apparently proceeding from a lantern in the hand of a man who was exploring the cellar. As I moved faster than the man, whose shuffling footsteps probably covered the sound of mine, I speedily overtook him, and laid my hand upon the shoulder of--old Christian, for he it was. He stopped with a half cry, luckily without dropping his lantern, and looked round at me with the utmost terror in his old wrinkled face.

"What are you doing here. Christian?" I asked.

He still stared at me in silence. "You need not be afraid of me," I said: "you know I am your friend."

"It is not for myself," the old man answered at last. "I dare not bring any one down here; he would kill me."

"You did not bring me down here," I said.

Christian, whose feeble old limbs were yet trembling from his first fright, now sat down upon a chest, and placed the lantern by him. While he was recovering himself, I took a survey of the cellar. It had a low vaulted ceiling, supported at various points by strong columns, and was evidently of considerable extent, though how considerable I could not determine, as the extremities were lost in darkness.

Against one of these columns not far off stood a desk with a great lantern over it, and on the desk lay a large thick book, like a merchant's "blotter." Near this were chests of tea, with Chinese figures marked on them--evidently original packages--piled up to a great height, and everywhere that I looked were empty boxes and casks, piled in a certain business-like order. Many a year must have passed ere all these boxes were emptied and all these casks drained; many a dollar must have been lost and won in the process, and many a human life must have been risked, and probably lost too. At that time not a year passed that the smuggling in this region by land and water did not cost more than one life; and how many did it cost whose loss was not known? Peter, for instance, who was shot by the coastguard in the woods, and dragged himself, mortally wounded, to his hut; or Claas, who, flying hastily across the morass, missed his footing and sank; whose kindred found it prudent to say as little about the matter as possible.

Many things of this sort I had heard from my father and his colleagues, and they recurred to my mind as I looked around this vast cellar, which wore in the pale light from the old man's lantern much the appearance of a gigantic church-vault, in which mouldering coffins that had done their service were piled up around, and the damp chilly vapor in which might be fancied to proceed from fresh graves dug in lightless space beyond the columns.

This then was the foundation of the house of the Von Zehrens. That high-born race had dwelt over this vault, and lived upon these heaps of decay. No wonder the fields lay fallow, and the barns were tumbling to ruin. Here was the sowing and the harvest--an evil sowing, which could bring no other than an evil harvest.

I will not maintain that precisely these thoughts passed through my mind in precisely this order, while I stood by the old man and let my gaze wander through the recesses of the cellar. I only know that my old feeling of horror for that traffic into whose secret adyta I had penetrated, returned upon me with full force, and with the clearly defined sensation that I now pertained to it and was one of the initiated, and that it was foolish and to a certain extent offensive in the old man to wish to make any secret to me of matters and relations which I so thoroughly fathomed and so well understood.

"Well, Christian," said I, taking a seat opposite the old man, and lighting a cigar at his lantern as a mark of my perfect composure, "what will we get this time?"

"Tea or silk," muttered he; "if it were wine, brandy, or salt, he would have ordered the wagons."

"To be sure, he would then have ordered the wagons," I repeated, as if this were a mere matter of course. "And when do you expect him back? He told me to-night that he could not possibly determine."

"Most likely to-morrow; but I will open the great door anyhow, as we cannot be certain."

"Of course we cannot be certain," I said. The old man had arisen and taken up his lantern, and I arose also.

We kept on, and came into another space filled with the scent of wine, where casks were piled on casks, as the old man showed me by holding up his lantern as high as he could reach.

"This all lies here from last year," he said.

"Yes," I answered, repeating what Granow had said; "the business is bad just now; the people in Uselin have grown shy since so many have taken to dabbling in it."

The old man, who was taciturnity itself, did not answer, but it seemed that I had attained my aim of gaining his confidence. He nodded and muttered an assent to my words, as he shuffled along.

The cellar seemed to have no end; but at last Christian stopped and placed the lantern upon the ground. Before us was a broad staircase, above which was an apparatus of strong beams, such as is used for lowering casks and heavy boxes. The staircase was closed above by a large and massive trap-door, covered with plates of iron, and secured by immense bolts. These the old man pushed back with my help.

"So," said he, "now they can come whenever they please.

"Whenever they please," I repeated.

We returned silently by the way we had come, and ascended the steep stair at the entrance. The old man pressed a spring, and the opening in the wall was closed by a sliding door which was fitted so artistically, and was so exactly of the same tint of dirty gray, that none but one of the initiated could have discovered its existence, to say nothing of opening it.

Old Christian extinguished his lantern, and went before me to the end of the corridor, after which we separated in the smaller court-yard. He passed through a small gate into the main court; I remained behind and looked cautiously around to see if any one was observing me; but there were only the crows, who, perched upon one of the low roofs, with heads on one side, were scrutinizing all my movements. This little court had looked poorly enough in the sunshine, but now in the rain its appearance was inexpressibly forlorn. The buildings huddled together as if trying to shelter themselves as well as they could from the wind and the rain, and yet seemed every moment in danger of tumbling down from sheer dilapidation. Who would look here for the entrance to the secret cellar? And yet here somewhere it must be. I had noticed the direction and extent of the subterranean space, for I wanted to know all, since I already knew so much. I wished to be no longer kept in the dark as to what was going on around me.

My conclusion was verified: in the miserable old servant's kitchen, from which a wide door led to the inclosed space with the heaps of refuse, under a pile of old barrels, boards, half-rotten straw, heaped together, as I now perceived, with a careful imitation of carelessness, I detected the same trap-door which the old man had bolted in the cellar. Here upon the outside it was secured with a massive iron bar, and a lock, the key of which doubtless Herr von Zehren carried about him. I replaced the rubbish, and stole away as furtively as a thief, for the proverb says truly that "the concealer is as bad as the stealer," not only before the law, but even more surely before his own conscience.

I turned into the park and strolled about the walks. A heavy drizzle was still falling, but the fog had lifted a little, and was rolling away in heavy gray masses over the tops of the trees. I stood at the stone table under the maple whose spreading boughs afforded me some shelter, and gazed steadfastly at the great melancholy house, that to-day, since it had disclosed to me its secret, wore quite another look in my eyes. Could she know what I now knew? Impossible! It was a thought not to be harbored for a moment. But she must learn it as soon as possible--or no! she must rather leave this place, where ruin was threatening her. Away--but whither? to whom? with whom? What a wretched, pitiful creature was I, who could offer her nothing but this heart that beat for her, these arms which were strong enough to bear her away as easily as a child, and with which I could do nothing but fold them over my breast in impotent despair. Happen what might, she must, must be saved. Her father might sacrifice me to his vengeance, but she must escape free!

Some one came from the terrace--it was old Pahlen. She appeared to be looking for me, for she beckoned to me from a distance with her bony hands, while her gray hair, flying loose in the wind from under her dirty cap, would have given her to any one else the appearance of the witch that had brewed the bad weather. But to me she was a most welcome apparition, for from whom could she come but from her? I ran to meet her, and scarcely gave her time to deliver her message. A few moments later, with a heart beating high, I entered Constance's apartment through the casement-door.

It was the first, and was to be the last time that I entered it, and I can scarcely give an accurate description of its appearance. I have only a very dim recollection of large-leaved plants, an open piano, music, books, articles of dress, all scattered about, of two or three portraits on the walls, and that the entire floor was covered with a carpet. This last feature particularly struck me. Carpets covering an entire room were a rarity at that time, especially in the good town of Uselin. I had only heard of such luxury by report, and I hardly knew where to place my foot, although the carpet, I believe, was extremely threadbare, and in places even torn and worn into holes.

But these, as I have said, are but dim recollections, from which stands out, clearly and ineffaceably, the picture of Constance. She sat upon a divan near the window, and at my entrance dropped a piece of embroidery into her lap, at the same time extending her hand with her peculiar sweet melancholy smile.

"You are not angry that I sent for you?" she asked, motioning me to take my place by her side--thereby placing me in no slight embarrassment, for the divan was low, and my boots not as clean as a young man could wish who is for the first time received in a carpeted chamber by the lady of his heart. "I wished to make a request of you. Pahlen, you can go; I have something to speak of with Herr George alone."

The old woman gave me one of her suspicious looks, lingered, and only went after Constance had repeated her order in a sharper tone.

"See, this is the reason I sent for you," Constance began, with a gesture of the hand towards the door by which the old woman had departed. "I know how good you are, and how true a friend to me; since yesterday I have new proof of it, though for a while I was weak enough to hold you no better than the others. But these others! They do not know, and cannot, and must not know. Such treasures must be kept secret; they are too precious for the coarse world. Do you not think so?"

As I had no idea on what it was that she desired my opinion, I contented myself with fixing my eyes upon her with a look of respectful inquiry. She dropped her eyes again to her work, and continued in a voice not quite so steady: "My father has gone away, I am told; do you know whither, and for how long a time? But even if he had told you, it would make no difference; my father is not accustomed to bind himself by any such announcements. He will go for a stay of three weeks and be back in three days; he will start to be gone three days, and I will look for him in vain for as many weeks. There is no probability that he will this time make any exception to his rule; and whether he really makes a long or short stay, we must take measures accordingly. It is not cheerful to be all alone in this desolate and comfortless house, especially when there is such a terrible storm as there was last night. It is so pleasant to know that there is some one near at hand in whose faith and strong arm--they say you are so very strong, George--we can always trust; but still, so it must be. You feel that as well as I do, do you not, George?"

This time I knew what she meant: I must go away from here, must leave her alone, just now, at the very time when I was tormenting myself to devise some plan to get her away; at the very time when my mind, not yet recovered from the effects of the terrible night and the adventures of the morning, was filled with a gloomy presentiment that calamity was impending over both the house and its inhabitants. I neither knew how nor what to answer, and looked at Constance in helpless confusion.

"You think it very unfriendly, very inhospitable of me," she said, after a pause, as if awaiting my answer; "it would be both more hospitable and more friendly if I myself went away for the time to visit some female friend; and I admit that any other lady would do so; but I am so poor as to have no female friend. My father has taken good care of that. So long as you have been here, has a solitary lady entered this house? Have you ever heard me speak of a friend, of an acquaintance of my own sex? 'Constance von Zehren only associates with men;' that is the way I am spoken of; but heaven knows how entirely without fault of mine. Do you wish, my good faithful George, to give evil tongues the opportunity to make my reputation worse than it already is? Or do you think, with the others, that it cannot be worse? No; sit still. Why should not friends, as we are, speak calmly of such things, and calmly consider what is to be done on such an occasion? Now, what I have thought, is this: You have friends. There is Herr von Granow, who regularly pays court to you; there is Herr von Trantow, our good neighbor, who would be so glad to have you with him for a few days. And then you are quite near me; I can send for you if I want you; and you know that if ever I need a friend I will turn to no one sooner that to the only friend I have."

She offered me her hand with an enchanting smile, as if to say: "So that matter is settled, is it not?"

Her smile and the touch of her dear hand completed the confusion into which her words had thrown me; but I collected myself with a desperate effort and stammered:

"I do not know what you will think of me for allowing you to speak so long on a subject which of course I could not but understand at once; but I cannot tell you how hard it is for me just now to go away from you--to leave you just now. Herr von Zehern expressly charged me to remain here and wait his return, which would happen in a few days, perhaps to-morrow. He no doubt did that--even though he did not say as much--with the best intentions; that you might have some one near you, and might not be left alone in the desolate old house; that----"

I did not know how to continue, Constance fixed her eyes upon me with so peculiar an expression, and my talent for fiction having always been of the poorest.

"My father has never shown this tender consideration before," she said. "Perhaps he thinks that the older I grow, the more I need watching. You understand me. Or can you have forgotten our discourse of yesterday?"

"I have not forgotten it," I cried, springing hastily from the divan. "I will not again become an object of your suspicion. I now leave you, and forever, if you wish it; but others who are assuredly no worthier than I, shall not enjoy an advantage over me; and if they still venture to thrust themselves into your neighborhood, or lurk around like a fox around a dove-cot, they do it at their own peril. I shall not be so considerate as I was that evening."

"What do you mean? Of whom are you speaking?" exclaimed Constance, who had also arisen at my last words. She had turned quite pale, and her features had assumed a new expression.

"Of whom am I speaking?" I said; "of him who, on that evening when I kept watch at your window, ran from me like a craven; and who last night, as I was coming with your father from Trantowitz, and took the way through the woods alone, tried to conceal himself under the trees; whom I spared out of pity, for I knew that had I betrayed the pitiful wretch, Herr von Zehren would have shot him dead like a dog. Let him take care I do not meet him again in the night or by day either: he will see how much I respect his princeship!"

Constance had turned away while I thus gave vent in anger to the despair I felt at leaving the beloved maiden forever. Suddenly she turned her pale face again upon me, with eyes flashing with a strange light, and exclaimed, holding out her hands as if in supplication:

"That I should hear this from you!--from you! How can I help it if that man--supposing you were not mistaken, which yet is quite possible--is driven restlessly about by his evil conscience? It is unhappy enough for him, if it be so; but how does that concern me? And how can any danger from that quarter threaten me? And were he now--or at any time and anywhere--to come before me, what would I, what could I say, but 'We can be nothing to each other, you and I, now nor at any future time.' I thought, George, you knew all this without my telling you. How can I wonder that the others so misjudge me, when your judgment of me is so false, so cruelly false?"

She resumed her seat upon the divan and buried her face in her hands. I lost all control of myself, paced the room in agitation, and finally, seeing her bosom heaving with her emotion, threw myself in despair at her feet.

"My dear, good George," she said, laying her hands on my shoulders. "I know well that you love me; and I, too, am very fond of you."

The tears rolled down my cheeks. I hid my face in her dress, and covered her hands with kisses.

"Stand up, George," she whispered, "I hear old Pahlen coming."

I sprang up. In truth the door opened slowly--I think it had never been entirely closed--and the ugly old woman looked in and asked if she had been called.

Yes, she had been called. Herr George, who was going to visit Herr von Trantow for a day or two, had probably some orders to give.

"Farewell," she said, turning to me, "farewell, then, for a few days." And then bringing her face nearer to mine, and sending me a kiss by the movement of her lips, she softly whispered, "Farewell, beloved."

I was standing outside the house; the rain, that had re-commenced, was beating into my burning face; I did not feel it. Rain and storm, driving clouds and roaring trees, how lovely it all was! How could it be possible that the world should be so fair--that mortal could be so happy that she loved me!

When I reached my own room, I gave vent to my rapture in a thousand idiotic ways. I danced and sang, I threw myself into the old high-backed chair and wept, then sprang up again, and at last remembered that I had all that I should need for a stay of but a day or two, ready packed in my game-bag, and that she would expect that her orders would be promptly obeyed. Yes; now--now I was ready to go.

And throwing my gun over my shoulder, and calling my dog Caro, who lay moping under the table, I left the castle.

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Chapter XIV

Striding along the road to Trantowitz, under the rustling willows, scarcely seeing the way before me in my excitement, I several times barely escaped falling from the slippery path into the deep ditch in which the rain-water was now running in a torrent. More than once I stopped to look back to the castle where she was. Caro, who was moodily trotting after me, also stopped on these occasions and looked at me. I told him that she loved me, that we were all going to be happy, that all would turn out well, and that when I was a great man I would lead a joyous life, and would take good care of him as long as he lived. Caro gave me to understand, by a slight wag of his tail, that he was fully satisfied of my good intentions, and even to a certain extent moved; but his brown eyes looked very melancholy, as if on so dismal a day he could not form a very clear picture of a joyous future. "You are a stupid brute, Caro," I said; "a good, stupid brute; and you have no notion of what has happened to me." Caro made a desperate attempt to look at the matter from its brightest side, wagging his tail more violently, and showing his white teeth; then suddenly, as if to show that his well-trained mind, usually occupied with hunting matters alone, felt this to be a day when all discipline was relaxed, ran, furiously barking, at a man who was just approaching around a plantation of willows on the left of the road.

It was a man who had partly the appearance of a sailor, and partly that of a working-man of the town, and whose innocent broad face beamed with so friendly a smile as he caught sight of me, that Caro became at once conscious of the impropriety of his behavior, and came to heel ashamed, with drooping ears, while I, who had recognized the traveller, hastened towards him with extended hand.

"Why, Klaus, what in the name of wonder brings you here?"

"Yes, I thought I should surprise you," answered Klaus, giving me a cordial grasp of his great hard hand, and showing, as Caro had before done, two rows of teeth which rivalled the dog's in whiteness.

"Were you coming to see me?" I asked.

"Of course I was coming to see you," Klaus answered. "I arrived in the cutter an hour ago. Christel is with me. Our old grandmother is dead; we buried her yesterday morning. She has gone to a better place, I hope. She was a good old woman, although she had grown very infirm of late, and gave poor Christel a great deal of trouble. But that is all over now. What I was going to say is this: my father has been so good as to bring me over here himself, and Christel is with me too; she has come with me to Zanowitz to take leave of Aunt Julchen [Julie], father's sister, you know. My father is from Zanowitz, you know."

"To be sure," I said.

"You have been there once or twice yourself," Klaus went on. "Aunt Julchen always saw you, but you never took notice of her. I suppose you did not recollect her; she used often to come to my father's. And then you have become such a great man now"--and the honest fellow's admiring looks wandered over my hunting-dress, my high boots, and Caro, who pretended not to hear a word of this conversation, and with pricked-up ears was staring into the ditch as if he had never seen a water-rat dart into its hole before in all the days of his life.

"Never mind about that, Klaus," I said, shifting the sling of my gun a little higher on the shoulder. "So you are going away? And where are you going, then?"

"I have got a place as locksmith in the machine-shops of the Herr Commerzienrath at Berlin," said Klaus. "Herr Schultz, the engineer on the Penguin, you know, has given me a first-rate recommendation, and I hope to do no discredit to it."

"That I am sure you will not," I said in a cordial, friendly, but rather patronizing tone, while I considered with some embarrassment what I should do. Here was Klaus had come to see me, and I could not keep him standing in the open road, under the dripping willow. How the good fellow would have stared if I had taken him into my poetical room!--but that was not possible now. My embarrassment was increasing, and it was a great relief when Klaus, taking both my hands, said:

"And now, good-by; I must go back to Zanowitz. Karl Peters, who has been loading corn for the Herr Commerzienrath, sails in half an hour, and takes me with him. I would have liked to stay a little while with you, but you have something else on hand, and so I will not keep you any longer."

"I have nothing whatever on hand, Klaus," I answered, "and if you have no objection I will go with you to Zanowitz, and take the opportunity to say good-day to Christel. When is the wedding to be, Klaus?"

Klaus shook his head as we walked on together. "The prospect is but a poor one," he said. "We are too young yet, the old man thinks, although the proverb says: 'Early wooed was never rued.' Don't you think so?"

"Decidedly I do!" I cried, with an earnestness that extremely delighted Klaus; "I am two years younger than you, I believe, but I can tell you this: I would marry, if I could, upon the spot; but it all depends upon the circumstances, Klaus, upon the circumstances."

"Yes, of course;" answered he, with a sigh; "I could very well support her now, for I shall work upon a fixed contract, and can do well if I please, and Christel would not sit with her hands in her lap; but what good is all that if the old man will not consent? He is Christel's guardian, and she owes him everything, even her life, for she would have perished miserably on the beach, poor little creature, had father not sent mother down to the strand to gather drift-wood, and had mother not found her there and brought her home. And you see all this has to be taken into account; and although he is not at all kind to her, and I cannot tell why he has treated me so badly all these years, yet still it is written: Honor thy father and thy mother. And as I have no mother any more, I must honor my father doubly. Don't you think so?"

I did not answer him this time. In my coat-pocket lay the letter of my father, in which he commanded me to leave Herr von Zehren at once and return home. I had not obeyed his orders, because I could not leave until Herr von Zehren's return; but now I could go--oh yes, I could go now! I cast a glance back at the castle, which loomed darkly through its dark masses of trees, over the heath, and sighed deeply.

Klaus crossed the wet road to my side, and said to me in a low mysterious tone, although over the whole heath, as far as the eye could reach, there was no human being in sight:

"I beg your pardon; I did not mean to hurt your feelings."

"That I am sure of, Klaus," I answered.

"For you see," he continued, "I know that you and your father are not on good terms, but he is such an excellent man, that he certainly wishes no harm to any human creature, and least of all to his own son; and as for what people say about you, that you are leading so wild a life here, and--and--I don't believe a word of it. I know you better. Oh yes, you might be a little wild, of course, you always were that; but wicked? God forbid! I would sooner believe them if they said I was wicked myself."

"Do they say that of me?" I asked, contemptuously. "And who says so, then?"

Klaus took off his cap, and rubbed his sleek hair.

"That is hard to say," he answered, with some hesitation. "If I must tell you honestly, they all say so, my Christel of course excepted, who is your fast friend; but the rest don't leave a good hair on your head."

"Out with it," I said; "I don't care for it, so let us hear it all."

"Well, I can't tell you," answered Klaus.

It was some time before I could get it out of the good fellow. It was quite terrible for him to be compelled to admit that in my native town, where everybody knew everybody else, and took the greatest interest in his fortunes, I was unanimously considered a castaway. The firemen on board the Penguin had spoken of it, and the old pensioned-off captains leaning over the parapet of the pier, and meditatively chewing their quids, talked the matter over. Wherever Klaus, whom all knew to be a great friend of mine, came, everybody asked him if he had not heard what had become of George Hartwig, how he was going about in the very worst region of the whole island, and playing the buffoon for noblemen with whom he was leading the most shameless life; that he would lose more money in gambling in a single night, than his poor father made in a whole year, and heaven only knew how he came by it. But the worst of all was something which Klaus only mentioned after again solemnly assuring me that he did not believe a word of it. He had been the evening before to take leave of Justizrath Heckepfennig, who was Christel's godfather, and at whose house he was a frequent visitor. The family were just at tea. Elise Kohl, Emilie's dearest friend, was there too, and they had done Klaus the honor to offer him a cup of tea, after he had said that next day he was going to Zanowitz and meant to look me up. The justizrath urgently dissuaded him from doing so, adding that his long-fixed conviction that I would die in my shoes, had recently received a confirmation, which, however, he was not free to disclose. That then the girls had sat in judgment upon me, and decided that they could forgive me everything else, but could never forgive me for being the lover of Fräulein von Zehren. They had heard of it from Arthur, who of course knew; and Arthur had told such things about his cousin that a girl of any self-respect could hardly listen to them, and which it was quite impossible to repeat.

Klaus was terrified at the effect which his account produced upon me. In vain did he repeat that he did not believe a word of it, and had told the girls so at the time. I vowed that I renounced now and forever so faithless and treacherous a friend, and that I would sooner or later be most bitterly avenged upon him. I gave vent to the most terrible threats and maledictions. Never would I again, with my own consent, set foot in my native town; I would rather cause an earthquake to swallow it, if it stood in my power. Up to this time I had felt twinges of conscience as to whether I had not acted too rashly in leaving my father for so trifling a cause; but now should my father a hundred times command me to return, I would not do it. And as for Herr von Zehren and Fräulein von Zehren I valued a hair of either of their heads more than the whole town of Uselin, and I was ready to die for both of them here on the spot in these water-boots of mine, and the devil might afterwards beat the boots about the justizrath's old mop of a head.

The good Klaus was stricken dumb with horror when he heard me utter these frightful imprecations. It is quite probable that the idea struck him that my soul was in a more perilous state than he had hitherto supposed. He did not say this, however, but presently remarked, in his simple way, that disobedience to a father was a very serious thing; that I well knew how much he had always thought of me, in spite of all that people said, and that he had always been disposed, and was still disposed to agree with me in everything; but that here I was clearly in the wrong; and that if my father had really ordered me to return home, he could not see, for his part, what should prevent me from obeying him; that he must confess to me that my disobedience to my father had been troubling him ever since he heard of it, and that he could go away with an easier mind, now that he had frankly told me this.

I made him no answer, and Klaus did not venture to continue a conversation that had taken so unpleasant a turn. He walked silently by my side, giving me a sorrowful look from time to time, like Caro, who trotted with drooping ears by my other side; for the rain was falling still more heavily, and my aimless wandering in such weather over the wet dunes, was a mystery to Caro which grew darker the more he pondered over it.

Thus we arrived at Zanowitz, where the poor mud-hovels were scattered about over the undulating sandy dunes, as if they were playing hide-and-seek. Between the dunes the open sea was visible. This had always been a sight that I loved, when the sun shone brightly on the white sand and the blue water, and the white gulls wheeled in joyous circles over the calm sea. But now all was of a uniform gray, the sand, and the sky, and the sea that came rolling in in heavy waves. Even the gulls, sweeping with harsh cries over the stormy waters, seemed gray like the rest. It was a dreary picture, the coloring of which harmonized with the frame of mind in which my conversation with Klaus had left me.

"I see Peters is getting ready to sail," said Klaus, pointing to one of the larger vessels that were rocking at anchor a short distance from the beach. "I think we had better go down; father and Christel will be down there waiting for me."

So we went down to the strand, where they were about pushing off one of the numerous smaller boats drawn up upon the sand. A crowd of persons were standing by, and among them old Pinnow, Christel, and Klaus's Aunt Julchen, a well-to-do fisherman's widow, whom I remembered very well.

Poor Klaus was scarcely allowed a minute to say good-by. Skipper Peters, who had to deliver in Uselin the same day the corn he had shipped for the commerzienrath's account, swore at the foolish waste of time; Pinnow growled that the stupid dolt would never have common sense; Christel kept her tearful eyes riveted on her Klaus, whom she was to lose for so long a time; Aunt Julchen wiped the tears and the rain from her good fat face with her apron; and the deaf and dumb apprentice Jacob, who was among the rest, stared uninterruptedly at his master as if he now saw his red nose and blue spectacles for the first time. Klaus, looking very confused and very unhappy, said not a single word, but taking in his left hand a bundle which Christel had given him, he offered his right to each in turn, and then springing into the boat, seized one of the two oars. A couple of fishermen waded out and pushed the boat off; the oars were laid in the rowlocks, and the skiff danced over the waves to the cutter, on which the mainsail was already hoisted.

When I turned again, Christel had gone, and the fat aunt was just about following her. The poor thing no doubt wished to shed her long pent-up tears in quiet, and I thought that I should be doing her a kindness if I detained her father awhile upon the beach. But Herr Pinnow was in no haste to leave, as it seemed. With his blue spectacles over his eyes, which I knew to be sharp as a hawk's, he gazed into the foaming waters, and exchanged with the Zanowitz sailors and fishermen such remarks as naturally fall from old sea-rats on the beach watching the departure of a vessel.

These were in truth faces by no means adapted to inspire confidence, these high-boned, lean, weather-beaten, sunburnt visages, with light-blue blinking eyes, of the men of Zanowitz; but I had to say to myself, as I stood by and observed them one by one, that the face of my old friend was the most unprepossessing of all. The wicked, cruel expression of his wide mouth, with thick close-shut lips, that even when he spoke scarcely moved, had never so struck me before; perhaps I saw him to-day with different eyes. For indeed, since yesterday evening, the suspicion which had repeatedly entered my mind, that old Pinnow was deeply implicated in Herr von Zehren's hazardous undertakings, had been aroused anew. In fact I had come to an almost positive conclusion that he would take an active part in the expedition on hand; and I had been much surprised to hear Klaus say that his father had ferried Christel and himself over. So, whatever his connection with Herr von Zehren might be, he was not with him this time, and that fact partially relieved my uneasiness.

The smith seemed not to have forgotten our quarrel on that evening. He steadily pretended not to see me, or turned his broad back upon me while he told the others what a quick passage he had made, and that he would not have ventured out in such weather, and with his weak eyes that grew weaker every day, had not Klaus been in such haste. And even though it should blow less hard this evening, he would rather not take back Christel with him; she could stay at his sister's, and in her place he would take some active young fellow from here on board to help him, for as for that stupid blockhead, Jacob, he could not be relied on.

The tobacco-chewing men of Zanowitz listened to him and assented, or said nothing, and did their part in thinking.

To remain on the beach with the wind driving the rain and spray into one's face, was by no means comfortable, so I turned away from the group and walked up the shore. I knew where Aunt Julchen's cottage stood, and I thought I would look in and say a few friendly words to Christel if I could. But as if he suspected my intention and was determined to thwart it, old Pinnow, with a pair of fellows of much the look of gallows-birds, came after me; so I gave up my design for the time and went through the town, and ascended the dunes, intending to cross the heath to Trantow.

I had just crossed the summit of the highest dune, which was called the white one from the peculiar brilliancy of its sand, and from which one commanded an extensive prospect up and down the shore, when I heard my name called. I turned and perceived a female figure crouching in a little hollow under the sharp ridge of the dune, upon the side that looked away from the village and the sea, and beckoning eagerly to me. To my no little surprise I recognized Christel, and at once hastened to her. When I came up, she drew me into the hollow, and intimated to me with gestures rather than words that I must sit still and keep the dog quiet.

"What is all this for, Christel?" I asked.

"There is no time to be lost," she answered, "and I must tell you in two minutes. At three o'clock this morning Herr von Zehren came to see 'him;' they thought I was asleep, but I was not, because I had been crying about grandmother, and I heard everything. This evening a Mecklenburg yacht laden with silk will arrive. Herr von Zehren has gone by extra-post to R. to tell the captain, who is waiting for him there, to set sail. He will return himself with him on the yacht. Then they planned how to get the goods off the yacht; and 'he' offered, as the coast was clear, to take them off himself with his boat. Always before, the goods have been concealed in Zanowitz, and he took off such as were intended for Uselin from Zehrendorf, later, as opportunity offered. When Herr von Zehren objected that it might attract notice if he had his boat out without any apparent reason, and in such bad weather, 'he' said that Klaus had been wanting to go see his aunt before he went away, so he would take him over, and carry me along too, that there might be no possibility of suspicion. Then they called in Jock Swart, who had been waiting in the forge, and told him to come over here at once and have ready for to-night twelve of the surest men from Zehrendorf and Zanowitz, to accompany him on board--as carriers you know. Jock went, and after about a quarter of an hour Herr von Zehren went too, and then after another quarter of an hour, Jock came back again. I wondered at this, for Herr von Zehren had told him expressly and several times over, not to lose a minute, but to set out at once; but 'he' must have given him a sign, or had some previous understanding with him. Then they put their heads together and talked so softly that I could not make out what they said, but it must have been something bad, for 'he' got up once or twice and came and listened at my door to see if I was awake. Then he went away, but Jock stayed. About an hour later, just as day was beginning to break, he came back with another man--the customs-inspector Blanck. He had not his uniform on, but I knew him at once, and would have known him anyhow by his voice. So now the three whispered together, and after a little while went away. About six 'he' came back alone, and knocked at my door, for I had been afraid to come out, and asked if I was not going to get up to-day? Klaus would soon be there, he said, and we were to come over here together, and I was to bring some things with me, as very likely he would leave me here with my aunt."

While Christel was telling me this, she looked cautiously from time to time over the ridge of the dune to see if the coast was clear.

"I did not know what to do," she went on, "for I could not tell Klaus; he is like a child, and knows nothing about it all, and must not know; and I thank God he is away. I put it into his head to go and see you, for I thought very likely you would come down with him, as you did, and I wanted to tell you, if possible, to see if you could do anything. Herr von Zehren has always been so good to me, and the last time he was here said he would take care of Klaus and me, and that I need not be afraid of 'him,' for 'he' knew very well, and he had moreover told 'him,' that if he did me any harm he would shoot him dead. And since then 'he' has left me in peace; but he swears horribly at Herr von Zehren, and vows that he will be even with him, and now his plan is to bring him to the gallows."

She had begun to cry, but wiped away the tears with her hand, and went on:

"I can do nothing more. See if you can do anything; and do not be uneasy on my account, even if 'he' learns that it was my doing."

Her face suddenly flushed to a deep crimson; but the brave girl was determined to say all that she had to say, and she added:

"I have been talking with my aunt, and my aunt will keep me with her, and as she has a great number of friends here, he will not venture to give her any trouble. And now I must go back; run quickly down the dune; they cannot see you below there; and good-by!"

I pressed her hand and hurried down the high bare dune, which was surrounded by a number of other lesser ones confusedly heaped together and overgrown with beach-grass and broom, between which I was tolerably safe from observation. Still I kept on in a crouching attitude, and did not raise myself to an erect posture until I had gone a hundred paces or so over the heath, where concealment was no longer possible. When I looked back to the white dune, Christel was nowhere to be seen; she had evidently seized a favorable moment to slip back unobserved into the village.

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Chapter XV

Caro probably saw no reason, as I rather ran than walked along the narrow path leading over the heath to Trantowitz, to be more satisfied than before with his master's proceedings. I no longer spoke to him as I had been doing. I had no eye for the unfortunate hares which he routed out of their damp forms to relieve his extreme dullness of spirits, nor for the flocks of gulls that had been driven inland by the storm. I hurried on as if life and death depended upon my reaching Trantowitz five minutes earlier or later; and yet it was but too certain that Hans, when I had taken him into my confidence, would be as much at a loss as myself. But Hans von Trantow was a good fellow, and a devoted friend of Herr von Zehren, as I well knew. And then he loved Constance; for Constance's sake, even if he had no other reason, he must help me to save Constance's father, if any rescue was now possible.

And so I tore along. Under my steps jets of water sprang from the marshy soil into which I often sank to the ankles; the rain dashed into my face, and the gulls screamed as they wheeled above my head.

From Zanowitz to Trantow was a half-hour's journey, but it seemed to me an age before I reached the house, a bald and desolate-looking building even in the sunshine, and now doubly forlorn and cheerless in the rain. In front of the one-storied dwelling with its eight tall poplars, whose slender summits were wildly swaying in the storm, stood Granow's hunting-wagon and horses. That detestable fellow was there, then; but no matter for that; I must speak with Hans von Trantow alone, if I had first to pitch Herr von Granow out of the door.

Entering, I found the gentlemen at breakfast; a couple of empty bottles on the table showed that they had been sitting there some time already. Granow changed color at my entrance. It is probable that with my heated and agitated face, my clothes saturated with rain, and my hunting-boots covered with the sand of the dunes and the mud of the moor, I presented a rather startling appearance, and the little man had not, in reference to me, the clearest conscience in the world. Trantow, without rising at my entrance, reached a chair and drew it up to the table, then gave me his hand, and nodded his head towards the bottles and the dishes. His good-natured face was already very red, and his great blue eyes rather glassy; it was plain that the empty bottles were to be set chiefly to his account.

"You have certainly not been out shooting in this horrible weather?" asked Herr von Granow, with sudden friendliness, and politely placed bread, butter, and ham before me, which, in spite of all my anxiety, I attacked with energy, for I was nearly famished, and the hot air of the room had given me a sensation of faintness.

"We have been sitting here these two hours," he went on, "and were just deliberating how we should spend the day. I proposed cards, but Hans will not play; he says he means to give it up. Gambling is a vice, he says."

"So it is," muttered Hans.

"Only when he wins, you understand," said Granow, laughing at his own wit. "He considers it vicious to take from other people the money which they very likely need. He has no need of money himself; have you Hans?"

"Got no use for it," said Hans.

"There, you hear him yourself; he has got no use for it. He must marry, that's the thing for him; then he will find out a use for his money. We were just now talking about it."

Hans's red face took a somewhat deeper shade, and he cast a shy look at me. It struck me that I had myself been one of the subjects of their conversation.

"He will not find it so easy as you who have only to ask and have," I said.

"I do not understand you," said the little man, with evident embarrassment.

"I mean that this is what you told me yourself the day before yesterday," I answered. "You even mentioned names; but it can't be managed; it really can't, although Herr von Granow has considered the matter from every side."

I uttered the last words in an ironical tone, turning to Hans as I spoke. Hans, whose head was never particularly clear, could catch no glimpse of my meaning at all; but Herr von Granow understood me perfectly.

"A jest should not be taken more seriously than it is meant," he said, pouring himself out a glass of wine with a hand that visibly shook.

"Or better, one should not venture to jest upon certain subjects at all," I retorted, following his example.

"I am old enough not to need any admonitions from you," said the little man, with a pitiful attempt to assume an intimidating tone.

"And yet you have not yet learned to bridle your tongue," I replied, looking him steadily in the face.

"It seems you intend to insult me, young man," he cried, setting down hastily the glass of which he had only tasted.

"Shall I make that fact clear to you by throwing this glass in your face?"

"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" cried Hans.

"Enough!" exclaimed the little man, pushing back his chair and rising; "I will bear these insults no longer. I will have satisfaction, if this gentleman is entitled to be dealt with in that way."

"My father is a respectable officer in the customs," I answered; "my grandfather was a minister, and so was my great-grandfather. Yours was a shepherd, was he not?"

"We shall meet again," cried the little man, rushing out of the room, banging the door after him. In another moment we heard his carriage rattling over the pavement of the court.

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Chapter XVI

"Now, what is the meaning of all this?" asked Hans, who had never moved from his chair during the whole scene.

I broke into loud laughter.

"It means," I replied, "that Herr von Granow is a blackguard who has had the audacity to defame a lady whom we both respect, in a manner which deserves far more serious treatment; but besides this, I wanted to get him away--I must speak to you. You must help me--you must help him----"

I did not know how to begin, and in my excitement I strode wildly up and down the room.

"Drink off half a bottle at once," said Hans, meditatively; "that is a specific for clearing the brain."

But without having recourse to this specific, I was presently calm enough to tell him what it was that so agitated me. I related to him everything from the beginning; my first suspicion of Herr von Zehren, which had been completely lulled until Granow's loquacity had aroused it again; then Herr von Zehren's half admission of the previous evening, and the circumstances of his departure--keeping silent, however, about the letter of the steuerrath, which was not my secret--and then my exploration in the cellar this morning, and finally Christel's disclosure. I wound up by saying: "Herr von Trantow, I do not know what you think of his conduct, but I know that you have a great regard for him, and that," I added, coloring, "you deeply respect Constance, Fräulein von Zehren. Help me if you can. I am resolved to risk everything rather than let him fall into the snare which clearly has been set for him."

Von Trantow's cigar had gone out while I was speaking, nor had he made the slightest attempt to re-kindle it--an evidence of the rapt attention with which he was listening to my statement. As soon as I paused, he stretched out his great hand to me over the table, and was about to say something, but perceived that both our glasses were empty, so replenished them instead, and leaning back in his chair, sank into the profoundest meditation.

"I do not think it probable," I proceeded, warmed by his speechless sympathy, "that they will capture him; for I am convinced that he will defend himself to the last extremity."

Hans nodded, to intimate that he had not a doubt of it.

"But to think of their bringing him to trial, of their throwing him into prison? Herr von Trantow, shall we suffer that, if we can prevent it? Only yesterday he told me how one of his ancestors, also named Malte, when a prisoner in Uselin, was rescued by the strong arm, and at the sword's point, by one of yours, named Hans like yourself, upon a message brought by a faithful squire. The whole story has come round again. I am the faithful squire, and you and I will cut him out as they did then."

"That we will!" cried Hans, smiting the table with his heavy fist so that the bottles and glasses rang. "If they shut him up, we will blow up the prison."

"We must never let it get to that point," I said, smiling involuntarily, despite my anxiety at Hans's blind zeal. "We must warn him beforehand; we must get to him before anything happens; we must frustrate the whole plan founded upon Pinnow's and Jock's villainous treachery. But how? How can it be done?"

"How can it be done?" echoed Hans, thoughtfully rubbing his head.

We--or rather I, for Hans contented himself with playing the attentive listener, and incessantly replenishing my glass, with the view, apparently, of assisting my invention--designed a hundred plans, of which each was less practicable than the previous one, until I hit upon the following scheme, which, like all the others, had the fullest and promptest adhesion of the good Hans.

If their plan was to seize Herr von Zehren flagrante delicto, as Christel's revelation indicated, it was most probable that, as was their usual plan of operations in similar cases, they had laid an ambush for him. This ambush could only be posted upon a road that he must of necessity take, or upon one to which he was purposely enticed. In the latter case we could form no conjectures of its disposition; but in the former we might assume with tolerable assurance that the ambush would be stationed in the neighborhood of the castle. In every event our aim must be to reach him as soon as possible. But to effect this but one plan was practicable; we must set out at once with Pinnow, and as he was not likely to take us voluntarily as passengers, we must be prepared to compel him to it. How this was precisely to be done, we could leave to chance; the all-important thing was that we should be in Zanowitz at the right time. Pinnow would certainly not sail before night-fall, as the smuggler-yacht would unquestionably come in under cover of the darkness, and then would approach as near the shore as possible. When we were once on board, it would be time to think about the rest.

We next took another point into consideration. That our scheme was not to be accomplished without force, both Hans and I were thoroughly aware. Nothing could be done with guns in the darkness, nor would cutlasses or hunting-knives be sufficient against Pinnow and his men, who all carried knives. We must trust to pistols.

Hans had a pair; but one pair was not sufficient. I remembered that there was another pair hanging in Herr von Zehren's chamber, and these we must get. I thought little of Constance's prohibition from entering the house before her father's return; here were heavier interests at stake; this was a matter of life and death. Indeed it was a question if it would not be judicious to give Fräulein von Zehren a hint at least of the state of affairs; but we concluded not to do so, as she could not possibly help us, and would only be alarmed to no purpose. But we thought it prudent to take into our counsel old Christian, who could be relied upon in any case. We could arrange a pre-concerted signal with him, a light in one of the gable windows, or something of that sort, by which he could let us know at a distance, in case we got back unmolested to Zehrendorf, whether the coast was clear about the castle.

By the time we had got so far with our deliberations, it I was two o'clock, and we had until dusk at least three hours, which were to be got through with with as much patience as we could muster--a hard task for me, who was in a burning fever of impatience. Hans showed himself the most amiable of hosts. He brought out his best cigars and his best wine; he was more talkative than I had ever known him; the prospect of an adventure of so serious a character as that which we had in view, seemed to have had the good effect of arousing him out of his usual apathy. He recounted the simple story of his life: how he had early lost his parents, how he had been sent to a boarding-school at the provincial capital, where he was prepared for the gymnasium, in which he remained until his seventeenth year and rose to the fourth class. Then he became a farmer; took his estate in hand as soon as he was of age, and had been living upon it six years--he was now in his thirtieth--quietly and placidly, using his weapons only against the creatures of the forest and the field, raising his wheat, shearing his sheep, smoking his cigars, drinking his wine, and playing his cards. There was but one romantic feature in all his prosaic life, and that was his love for Constance. It was in the year that he came to live upon his estate, that she came back to her father; and to see Constance, to love her, and to love her still more devotedly long after he had been convinced of the hopelessness of his passion, to drown this hopeless passion in wine, so far as was in his power--this was the poor fellow's fate. He accepted it with perfect resignation, convinced that he was not the man to make his own fortune, any more than he had been able, when at school, to do his own exercises. Why and for whom should he plague himself with work? He had all that he wanted in the present, and there was no future for him to look forward to. He was the last of his race, and had not even a kinsman in the world. When he died, his estate, as a lapsed fief, reverted to the crown. The crown then might see what was to be done with the ruined barns and stables and with the dilapidated house. He let decay and weather work their will. He only needed a room, and in this room we were now sitting, while Hans went on with his recital in his monotonous way, and the rain beating against the low windows kept up a melancholy accompaniment.

A conversation in which there was a continual reference to Constance, even if her name was not actually mentioned, had a strangely painful charm for me. Although Hans did not breathe a syllable of complaint against the fair girl, it was plain from his story that she had at first encouraged his bashful attentions, and only altered her behavior to him after her meeting with Prince Prora at the watering-place two years before. And Hans was evidently not the only one who had received encouragement. Karl von Sylow, Fritz von Zarrentin--in a word, almost every one of the young noblemen who formed Herr von Zehren's circle of acquaintance, had earlier or later, with greater or less right, held himself to be the favored one. Even Granow, although from the first he was made the butt of his companions, might boast that he was favorably looked upon by the young lady during the earlier months of his residence; indeed Hans still considered Granow's chance by no means desperate, for the little man was very rich, and she would only marry a rich man, he added, with a deep sigh, as he filled his glass once more.

At Hans's last words I sprang from the table and threw open the window. I felt as if I must suffocate, or as if the low ceiling with its bent beams would fall in upon me.

"Is it still raining?" Hans asked.

"Not at this moment," I said. But one of those thick fogs of which several had passed over in the course of the day, was drifting in from the sea.

"Real smugglers' weather," said Hans. "The old man ought to be ashamed of himself to drag his friends out on such a day. But that cannot be helped. Shall we not drink another bottle? It will be cursedly cold to-night."

I said I thought we had already drunk more than enough, and that it was high time to start.

"Then I will get ready," said Hans, and went into his chamber, where I for a long time heard him rummaging among his water-boots.

I had always considered myself pretty cool in moments of danger; but in Hans I had met my master. While he was overhauling the things in his room, I heard him through the half-open door whistling to himself as cheerily as if we were going out to shoot hares, instead of an adventure of life and death. To be sure, I said to myself, his is a case of hopeless love, and Herr von Zehren is merely a friend, neighbor, and equal, whom he feels it his duty to assist against the hated police. That Hans, in combating for a cause that did not really concern him, was doing much more, or at least acting far more disinterestedly than I, did not occur to me.

And now he came out of his room, if not the wildest of all wild warriors, yet in appearance one who would be very appropriately selected for an adventure that demanded a strong and bold man. His long legs were incased in immense boots; over a close-fitting jacket of silk he had put on a loose woollen overcoat, which he probably wore when hunting in winter, and which could be drawn close with a belt or allowed to hang loose, as at present, he having buckled the belt under it around the jacket, and thrust his pistols into the belt. With a jolly laugh he displayed his equipment and asked me if I would not have an overcoat also, as he had another; an offer which I gladly accepted.

"We look like two brothers," said Hans; and in fact we might easily have been mistaken for brothers, as we both had the same stature and breadth of shoulders, and were dressed almost precisely alike.

"If there are not too many of them," said Hans, "we can easily manage them."

"A half-dozen to each of us, or so," I said, and laughed; but I was very far from a mirthful feeling as we closed the door after us, and Caro, whom we had left behind, broke out into a dismal howling and whining. Poor Caro, he was in the right that morning when he reminded me with his woebegone looks that we should never praise the day until the evening.

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Chapter XVII

It was four o'clock when we set out, and already it was growing dusk as we took the foot-path through the stubble-field to Zehrendorf. No clear judgment of the weather was to be drawn from the appearance of the sky and clouds, as the whole atmosphere was filled with watery mist, through which every object took a singularly strange and unnatural appearance. We pushed on rapidly, sometimes side by side and sometimes in single file, for the path was narrow and very slippery from the incessant rains. We were just deliberating what we should say to Constance, in case we should unfortunately meet her, when we saw upon the road bordered with willows, which was but a few hundred paces distant from the foot-path, a carriage drawn by two horses coming from the castle in such haste that in less than half a minute it had vanished in the mist, and we could only hear the trampling of the galloping horses and the rattling of the carriage over the broken causeway. Hans and I looked at each other in astonishment.

"Who can that be?" he asked.

"It is the steuerrath," I answered.

"What can bring him here?" he asked again.

I did not answer. I could not tell Hans of the letter that proved the direct or indirect complicity of the steuerrath, nor explain how likely it was that he would attempt to warn his brother that the affair had taken a wrong turn. What information could he have brought? Might it still be of service to the unfortunate man whose movements were dogged by treachery?

"Let us hasten all we can," I cried, pressing on without waiting for Hans's answer, and Hans, who was a capital runner, followed closely upon my heels.

In a few minutes we had reached the gate which opened on this side into the court. At the gate was a stone-bench for the accommodation of persons waiting until the gate was opened, and upon this bench sat or rather lay old Christian, with blood trickling down his wrinkled face from a fresh wound in the forehead. As we came up he seemed to be recovering from a partial swoon, and stared at us with a confused look. We raised him up, and Hans caught some water in his hollow hand from a neighboring rain-spout and sprinkled it in his face. The wound was not deep, and seemed to have been inflicted with some blunt instrument.

"What has happened, Christian?" I had already asked half-a-dozen times, before the old man had recovered his senses sufficiently to answer feebly:

"What has happened? She is off; and he struck me over the head with the butt of his whip as I was trying to shut the gate."

I had heard enough. Like some furious animal I rushed to the house. The doors were all standing open: the front door, that of the dining-room, and that of Herr von Zehren's chamber. I ran in, as I heard hammering and rattling inside. Old Pahlen was kneeling before Herr von Zehren's escritoire, scolding furiously to herself while trying her best, with a hatchet and crowbar, to force the lock. She had not heard me enter. With one jerk I dragged her to her feet; and she started back and glared at me with looks flaming with impotent rage. Her gray hair hung in elf-locks from under her dirty cap, and in her right hand she still clutched the hatchet. The horrible old woman, whose vile nature was now openly shown, was a hideous object to behold; but I was not in a frame of mind to be checked by any sight, however repulsive.

"Where has she gone?" I thundered at her. "You must know, for you helped her off."

"Ay, that I did," screamed the old hag, "that I did; and may Satan fetch my soul for doing it! The thankless, worthless creature promised to take me with her, and now leaves me here with shame and abuse in this robber's den; but she'll live yet to come to it herself when he flings her out into the street, the----"

"Another word, woman, and I strike you to the floor," I cried, raising my fist threateningly.

The old woman burst into a screech of laughter. "Now he begins!" she cried. "And didn't they make a fine fool of him, the stupid blockhead! Thought he was the man, to be sure, while the other one was with her every night. Lets himself be sent out of the way, for the other to come in his coach and carry off the pretty lady." And the old wretch burst again into a screech of horrible laughter.

"Be that as it may," I said, struggling to keep down the rage and anguish that were tearing my heart, "you have been rightly served, at all events; and if you do not want me to have you hounded off the place for a thief, as you are, you had better take yourself off at once."

"Oh, indeed!" screamed the hag, planting her arms a-kimbo, "he carries matters here with a high hand, to be sure! I a thief, indeed! I only want my money. I have had for this half-year no wages from the whole beggarly lot, the smuggling gang!"

She had received from me, during the two months of my stay at Zehrendorf, more than her whole year's service could amount to; and I had myself seen Herr von Zehren pay her wages but a few days before, and add a handsome present besides.

"Begone!" I said. "Leave the place this instant!"

The old woman caught up the hatchet, but she well knew that she could not intimidate me. So she retreated before me out of the room, and out of the house, screaming out all the time the vilest abuse and the most furious threats against Herr von Zehren, Constance, and myself. I closed the great gate after her with my own hands, and then looked for Hans, who was just coming out of the lodge, into which he had been taking old Christian.

Hans was deathly pale, and did not look at me as he came to my side. He had heard enough from old Christian to make it unnecessary for him to seek from me any further particulars of Constance's abduction; and he probably did not care to let me see how hard the blow had struck him, which hurled into the mire the image of his idolatry, and so cruelly destroyed his solitary illusion, the last glimmer of poetry in his cheerless life. I seized his hand and wrung it hard.

"What now?" I asked.

"Suppose I ride after him and knock out his brains," said Hans.

"Excellent!" I replied, with a forced laugh; "if he had carried her off by force; but as it seems she went with him quite willingly--come on; the thing is not worth thinking over a moment longer."

"You have not loved her for six years," said poor Hans.

"Then saddle Herr von Zehren's bay and ride after him," I said; "but we must come to a decision at once."

Hans stood irresolute. "By heavens, I should like to help you," he said.

"Ride after the rascal and punish him, if you want to," I cried, "I am perfectly satisfied. But whatever is to be done must be done at once."

"Then I will!" said Hans, and went with long strides to the stable, where he knew Herr von Zehren's horse stood, a powerful hunter, but now past his prime, and much neglected of late since Herr von Zehren had given up riding.

There was on the place a half-grown youth who did odd jobs, and was much cuffed about by the others. He came up now and said that Jock had been there an hour before and taken with him Karl, who was cutting straw in the barn-loft, and Hanne, who was sitting in the lodge, and so he was left to do Karl's work. Of what else befell, he in his dark loft had seen and heard nothing.

To entrust to this simple, scarcely more than half-witted youth the part which Christian should have taken in our plan would have been folly; but as he was an honest fellow, we could trust him to take care of the old man and keep guard over the house. I ordered him to go the rounds from time to time with the dog, whom I unchained, and under no pretext whatever to let in the old hag whom I had driven off the place, and from whom I expected mischief. Fritz promised to observe my orders faithfully. Then I hastily caught down Herr von Zehren's pistols, which were hanging, loaded, against the wall.

When I came out into the court again, I saw Hans just galloping out of the gate. A wild jealousy seized me. Why could I not be at his side? The composure, the indifference, which I had just exhibited--all was mere sham; I had but a single desire, to revenge myself on him and on her; but I must leave it to Hans; he had loved her for six years!

Thus I raged in spirit as I hastened at a rapid rate through the fields and meadows, and finally across the heath to Zanowitz. Strive as I might to fix my thoughts upon the immediate exigency, they perpetually reverted to what had just taken place. A weight as of a mountain lay upon my heart. I remember more than once I stood still and shrieked aloud to the gray, cloudy sky. When I reached the dunes, however, the necessity of devising some definite plan of operations brought me back to my senses.

The weather had somewhat cleared up in the meantime, and the wind had hauled; the rain had ceased, and the fog had lifted; there was more light than an hour before, although the sun had set by this time. Looking down from the height of the dunes upon Zanowitz I saw the dark sea, where the waves were still tumbling, though not so heavily as in the morning, cutting with a sharp horizontal line against the bright sky. I could still distinguish, though with difficulty, the larger vessel in the roadstead, but could clearly make out the row of boats drawn up to the beach, as well as a little yawl that came rowing towards a group of men assembled on the strand. If these were the last of Pinnow's party I had not a minute to spare.

It was also possible that this group of dark figures might be functionaries of the custom-house; but I was satisfied that the probability of this being the case, was but small. Zanowitz was crowded with smugglers, and Pinnow could hardly venture upon open treachery. Not that any attempt would have been made to resist by violence an expedition of the officials conducted by him; but from the moment in which he appeared in that capacity, he would be marked out for vengeance, and his life would not be worth an hour's purchase. However the treachery might have been concocted, the traitors had assuredly taken care to conceal their own share in it from all other eyes.

But I had no time for much consideration on these points; and indeed did not pause to reflect, but ran down the dunes. As I neared the group a man came out from it and advanced to meet me. He had turned up the wide collar of his pea-jacket, and pulled the brim of his sou'-wester as far as possible over his face, but I recognized him at once.

"Good evening, Pinnow," I said.

He made no reply.

"I am glad to have met you," I went on; "I heard this morning that it was possible you might sail for Uselin this evening, and I wanted to ask you to take me along with you."

He still gave no answer.

"You will have to take me, whether you like it or not," I proceeded. "I have made every preparation for the trip. Look here," and I threw back my overcoat and drew one of my pistols half out of my belt, "they are both loaded."

He still kept silent.

"Shall I try them on you to see if they are loaded or not?" I asked, drawing one from my belt and cocking it.

"Come on," said Pinnow.

I lowered the hammer of the pistol, replaced it in my belt, and then walked on Pinnow's right, keeping a little behind him. Presently I said:

"Do not expect to find any protection among the men down there. I will keep close to your side, and upon the first word you let fall, tending to raise them against me, you are a dead man. How many have you already on board?"

"Ten men," muttered Pinnow. "But I do not know what you want with me; go with us or stay behind as you please; what the devil do you suppose I care?"

"We shall see," I answered, drily.

We now joined the group, which consisted of my long friend Jock, the men Karl and Hanne, and the deaf and dumb Jacob who had rowed the yawl over.

"He is going with us," said Pinnow, laconically, to his men, as he lent a hand himself to push off the yawl.

I thought that I perceived a look of alarmed surprise pass over the brutal features of Jock at seeing us. He looked at his accomplice for an explanation of the mystery, but Pinnow was busy with the yawl. The two others were standing apart; they evidently did not know what to make of it all.

"There are only four wanted," said Pinnow.

"Very good," I said. "You, Karl and Hanne, go home and keep perfectly quiet, do you hear?"

"I can go home too," said Jock, surlily.

"One step from the spot," I cried, levelling the pistol at his head, "and you have stood on your long legs for the last time. Get on board!"

Jock Swart obeyed.

"You next, Pinnow!"

Pinnow obeyed. I followed.

We had about twenty minutes rowing before we reached the cutter, for the surf was heavy, and the cutter was anchored pretty far out on account of her deep draught. This frustrated a plan which occurred to me at the last moment, namely, to put the whole party on shore, and go out to the yacht with Pinnow and Jock alone. But I saw that in the rowing back and forwards that would be necessary, at least an hour would be lost, and it was all-important to have speech of Herr von Zehren as speedily as possible. What might not happen in an hour?

We reached the cutter that was dancing at her anchor upon the waves, like an impatient horse tugging at his halter. We pulled alongside, and I sprang on board among the dark figures.

"Good evening, men," I said. "I am going along with you. Some of you know me, and know that I am a good friend of Herr von Zehren; and besides, Pinnow and Jock Swart will answer for me."

The two that I named accepted the sponsorship by their silence; but I believe that it was unnecessary. I had often been with Herr von Zehren in Zanowitz--indeed we had been there but the day before--and had probably occasionally spoken with every one of the men. They all knew my intimate association with him, and could see nothing remarkable that I should take part in an expedition made for the account of one who was to a certain extent my patron as he was theirs. No one answered me--these people were not in the habit of wasting speech--but they willingly received me among them. My impression that Pinnow and Jock Swart were the only traitors, was confirmed. So in every sense he was now in my power. If I told the men what I knew, the two accomplices would probably have flown overboard; for the Zanowitz men were not to be trifled with in these matters.

I said as much to Pinnow as I took my place beside him at the helm.

"Do what you please," he muttered, putting a quid of tobacco into his wide mouth.

Although Christel's information was so positive, a doubt came over me as I marked the imperturbable calmness of the man who knew that his life was every moment at risk. Had Christel's hearing deceived her in her excitement? Had the good Hans and I unnecessarily mixed ourselves up with this lawless crew, who were plying, in darkness and mist, their perilous trade?

By this time the cutter, a capital sailer, was flying through the waves. The sky had grown much clearer; there was still light enough to see pretty plainly at two or three hundred yards distance. But it was bitter cold, and the surf that dashed, often in heavy masses, over the deck, by no means added to the comfort of the situation. The small craft was crowded with the fourteen men that were on board. Wherever one looked, there lay or crouched a dark figure. Pinnow sat at the helm. As I kept my post at his side, and had thus an opportunity to watch him closely, I grew more dubious with every minute whether there was not some mistake in the whole affair. There sat the broad-shouldered man, moving not a muscle of his face, except when from time to time he slowly turned his quid from one cheek into the other, or fixed his sharp eyes upon the sails, or turned them out to sea. When we tacked, a man[oe]uvre which was performed almost every minute, and he called "Luff!" for us to stoop and let the boom pass over our heads, his voice rang always firm and clear. Was it possible that a traitor could have so sure a hand, so sharp an eye, and could chew his tobacco with such equanimity?

"How far do you think we shall have to go before we find the yacht?" I asked.

"We may come up with her at any moment," Pinnow growled; "and very likely we may see nothing at all of her."

"How so?"

"If they should have caught sight of one of the coastguard boats, they would stand out to sea again."

"How long will you look for her?"

"One hour; so it was arranged."

"Between you and Herr von Zehren, or between you and Inspector Blanck?"

Pinnow squirted his tobacco-juice overboard and growled:

"For the last time I tell you that I do not know what you want. The foolish wench Christel, I suppose, has made you believe that I am playing false; but she is more likely to have done it herself. I should be sorry if she gave up her old foster-father in order to get rid of him; but what will such a wench not do?"

These words, that the smith grumbled out in his surly way, made a strong impression upon me. Had I not but an hour before had proof what a girl would do to carry out her will? And Pinnow was only her foster-father. Could she have invented a plausible tale to set Herr von Zehren and myself against the old man? Could she have herself perpetrated the treachery that she ascribed to him, and have given the information to the officers, in order in this way to be rid of one whom she had good reason for wishing out of the way? And had her conscience smitten her at the last moment, when she reflected that his ruin would involve that of Herr von Zehren, to whom she owed a debt of gratitude? Was her story to me but an attempt to save him through my means?

I admit that a minute's calm reflection would have sufficed to convince me of the extreme improbability of this idea; but how could I calmly reflect in the situation and in the frame of mind in which I then was?

A wild merriment seized me, and I laughed aloud. Was it not a thing to laugh at, that of us two conspirators, Hans was galloping after the pretty pair over the wretched road through mist and drizzle, without the shadow of a reasonable ground for such a race; and was it not just as ridiculous, that I, who with such extravagant zeal and blindness, had been running from the morning until now, through storm and rain, tortured by countless anxieties, was a mere puppet, moved by a string whose end was held by two girls' hands, the one of which I, in my gratitude, had passionately kissed, and the other at least pressed cordially. Truly it would have been better if we had both stayed by our bottle in the warm room.

"Look there!" said Pinnow, touching my shoulder, while at the same moment he gave the word, "Luff!" in a peculiar, long-drawn, suppressed tone.

I perceived at but a few hundred yards distance a trimly-rigged schooner of moderate size, and I recognized at a glance one of the vessels of the coast-guard, named the Lightning. I had too often been on board her, and had sketched her too often under every possible arrangement of sails, to be deceived in her.

"That is the Lightning," I exclaimed.

At the same moment that the cutter went about, the Lightning also altered her course and bore down on us.

"Boat ahoy!" came through a speaking trumpet over the dash of the waves.

My heart seemed to stop beating; my hand lay on the butt of my pistol. If Pinnow laid the cutter to, his treachery was proven.

"Boat ahoy!" came over the water again.

"Haul aft the foresail!" ordered Pinnow.

I breathed again. Pinnow's order was equivalent to sauve qui peut.

"Boat ahoy!" came their hail for the third time, and almost in the same moment there was a flash on board the Lightning, and the report of a musket, deadened by the distance and the plashing of the waves, reached my ear.

"Shake out that reef in the jib!" ordered Pinnow.

I took my hand from the pistol. There was now no doubt that Pinnow was doing his utmost to escape the pursuing vessel. My heart leaped with joy; the man at my side, of whom I had once been so fond, though he had never deserved my affection, was at all events no traitor. What would I have done if I had known that this was all a carefully arranged plan, in carrying out which the cold-blooded old villain was not in the least disturbed by my clumsy interference; that this meeting with the schooner was preconcerted in order to lead the latter upon the right track? That the flight and pursuit were merely feigned, to conceal the treachery from the other smugglers, and that the three or four blank cartridges that were fired from the schooner had the same object? What would I have done if I had known all this? Well for me that I did not know it; at least no blood of a fellow-creature cleaves to my hand.

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Chapter XVII

The cutter now flew gallantly along under a press of canvass that laid her lee-bulwarks nearly under water, while the Lightning fell astern, and in brief time was lost to our sight.

A sort of life had come into the silent and almost motionless crew of the cutter. They raised their heads and exchanged remarks upon the incident, which to them was nothing so unusual. Every one of these men had at some time or other been brought into dangerous contact with the revenue service. The liberty, and possibly the life of every man there had at some time or other hung by a single thread. So no one exhibited any special excitement, but Smith Pinnow least of all. He sat at the helm just as before, casting keen glances at the sails and into the dusk, chewing his tobacco, and otherwise not moving a muscle. He did not say a word to me, as if it was not worth the while of an old sea dog to speak to so young a fellow about things which he did not understand. I felt a dryness in my throat that compelled me to cough once or twice, and I buttoned my overcoat closer over my pistols.

And now another vessel loomed through the dusk, and this time it was the long-looked-for yacht, a tolerably large craft, with but a single sail, but a full deck. In a few minutes we were alongside of her, and immediately the bales of goods, which were all in readiness, were lowered from the deck of the yacht, and taken on board by the crew of the cutter, who were now alert enough in their movements. The whole went on with extraordinary silence; hardly now and then could be heard a suppressed exclamation, or an order uttered half aloud in the gruff voice of the captain of the yacht.

I was one of the first to board the yacht, but I looked around in vain for Herr von Zehren. I was already congratulating myself that he was not on board, when he suddenly emerged from the hatchway that led to the cabin. His first glance fell upon me, and he came towards me with an unsteady gait, caused, as I supposed, by the motion of the vessel.

"And what in the devil's name has brought you here?" he cried with a hoarse voice; but I had no time to give him any explanation. The cutter had now all her lading on board, and the captain of the yacht coming up, said, "Now, be off with you!" He had just learned that a revenue schooner was about, and had no desire to risk his vessel and the rest of his cargo. "Be off!" he repeated, in a rough tone.

"To-morrow evening, then, at the same time," said Herr von Zehren.

"We'll see about it," said the captain, and sprang to the helm, for the yacht, which had already weighed her anchor, and whose mainsail was now half-mast high, began to come round to the wind.

A scene of confusion followed. The yacht's man[oe]uvre had been performed without any consideration for the cutter alongside, and came very near sinking our little craft. There was a burst of oaths on both sides, a tremendous grinding and cracking, a perilous leap from the deck of the yacht to that of the cutter, and we pushed off, while the yacht, which had already caught the wind, went on her course with full sails.

All this had taken place so rapidly, and, besides, the bustle and confusion of such a number of men on so small a craft, as they set the sails and stowed the cargo in the fore-hold, were so great, that some time passed ere I could get to Herr von Zehren's side.

He was still swearing at the villain of a captain, the coward who was running from a miserable revenue-schooner that he could run down and sink in five minutes. Catching sight of me he asked again, "What has brought you here?"

I was somewhat embarrassed how to answer this question. My suspicion of Pinnow had entirely vanished, and Pinnow sat close beside us at the helm and heard the question put in a loud tone. I contented myself with saying:

"I was afraid some misfortune might happen to you, and wanted to be with you!"

"Misfortune!" he cried. "Stupidity, cowardice, that is the only misfortune! The devil take the stupid poltroons!"

He sat down by Pinnow and talked with him in an undertone. Then turning to me, he said:

"You sent two of the men home; you should not have interfered with them. I need their services; every back is now worth a thousand thalers to me. Or did you propose to carry a pack yourself?"

He said this in an irritated tone that roused my indignation. If I had acted injudiciously, I had done all for the best; and to be rebuked for my faithful service in the presence of Pinnow, it was too much. I had a sharp answer at my tongue's end, but I gulped down my anger and went forward.

He did not call me back; he did not come after me to say a friendly word as he had always before done, whenever in his hastiness he had wounded my feelings. Presently I heard him rating two of the men in a shrill voice, for what, I could not understand; but this shrill tone which I had never before heard from him, told me at once that what I had feared was the truth; he was intoxicated.

A horrible feeling of disgust and wretchedness came over me. For the sake of this man, who was gesticulating there like a maniac, I had done what I had; for his sake I was here among this abandoned crew as accomplice of a crime which from boyhood had always seemed to me one of the most detestable; for his sake I had well-nigh become a murderer. And even now I had in my pocket my father's letter, in which the old man had given me such a solemn warning, and commanded me, if I had any regard for his peace, to return to him immediately.

I felt for the letter, and my hand came in contact with the pistols in my belt. I felt a strange impulse, here upon the spot, in the midst of the smuggler-gang, and before the eyes of their drunken leader, to blow out my brains. At this moment I thought of the good Hans who was risking himself for a cause that was not a whit better. And yet he may thank heaven, I said to myself, that he is not on this expedition.

"Boat ahoy!" suddenly rang over the water as before, and the Lightning again loomed out of the dusk, and a couple of shots were fired.

This was the signal for a chase which lasted probably an hour, during which the cutter, while seeming to make every effort, by countless dexterous and daring evolutions, to escape her pursuer, drew ever nearer and nearer to that part of the coast which had been agreed upon between Pinnow and the officers, about half a mile above Zanowitz, where the depth of the water would allow her to run almost immediately upon the beach. From here one could proceed to Zehrendorf by a wagon-road which ran along the strand to Zanowitz, and from there over the heath; or one could go directly across the heath; but in the latter case there was a large and very dangerous morass to be crossed, which could only be done by secret paths known to the smugglers alone. It was ten to one that Herr von Zehren would choose the way over the moor instead of that along the coast, from the spot to which the cutter had apparently been driven.

While the chase lasted, I did not move from the spot in which I was, fully determined to take no active part in the affair, happen what might. Herr von Zehren made my passive part an easy one; often as he came near me, he never once took any notice of me. During this hour of excitement his intoxication seemed to have increased; his behavior was that of a raging madman. He shrieked to Pinnow to run the schooner down; he returned the fire of the officers with one of Pinnow's old guns, which he had found in the cabin, although the Lightning prudently kept at a distance which would have been too great for even a rifle of long range; and as the cutter, after a long tack out to sea, on which she distanced the schooner, stood in again and reached the shore unmolested, he leaped out into the shallow water, and his men had all to follow him, after each had been loaded with one of the heavy packs which were made up for this purpose. There were eleven carriers in all, as Pinnow offered the services of the boatmen he had brought from Zanowitz, saying that he could get along with the deaf and dumb Jacob alone; and thus the place of one of the two men whom I had sent home was filled. But there still remained a twelfth pack, which lay upon the deck, and would have been left, as there was no one to carry it, had I not managed to get it on my shoulders by laying it on the gunwale of the boat, and then springing into the surf, which reached to my knees. I was resolved that if I parted from Herr von Zehren that night, he should not be able to say that I had caused him the loss of a twelfth part of his property, won with so much toil and care, with the risk of the liberty, and lives of so many men, and at the price of his own honor.

A boisterous laugh resounded behind me as I left the cutter. It came from Pinnow; he knew what he was laughing about. The cutter, lightened of her lading, was now afloat, and as I gained the beach and turned, she was slowly standing out to sea. He had done his shameful work.

At this moment it flashed upon me, "He is a traitor, after all!" I do not know whether it was his laugh of malicious triumph that again aroused my suspicion, or what suggested the thought, but I said to myself, as I closed the file which was headed by Herr von Zehren and Jock Swart, "Now it will soon be decided."

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Chapter XVIII

We had passed the dunes, and were marching in single file across the sandy waste land on the other side. No word was spoken; each man had enough to do in carrying his heavy pack; I perhaps the most of all, although none of the men, unless it might be Jock Swart, equalled me in strength; but in such things practice is everything. And then in addition to my pack, which probably weighed a hundred-weight, I bore another burden from which the others were free, and which pressed me far more heavily--the burden of shame that my father's son was bending under this bale of silk, of which the revenue was defrauded, because I would not cause a loss of property to the man whose bread I had been eating for two months. And then I thought with what happiness my heart beat high when I left Zehrendorf in the morning, and that I was now returning deceived by the daughter, insulted by the father, contaminated by the defilement of the base traffic to which I had lent myself, and that this was the end of my visionary splendors, of my adored liberty! But the end had not yet come.

Without a moment's rest we kept on, the wet sand crunching under our feet, when of a sudden a word was given at the head of the file and passed on in an under-tone from man to man until it came to me, who being the last could pass it no further--"Halt!"

We had reached the edge of the moor. It could be entered on this side only by a narrow strip which was passable; then came a stretch of dry land, a sort of island, surrounded by the morass on every side, which closed in again at its opposite extremity, perhaps two thousand paces distant, and there was again only a narrow path which a heavily laden man could pass without sinking into the morass. After this came the heath, which extended from the lands of Trantowitz and Zehrendorf on one side to the dunes of Zanowitz on the other, and which I had already crossed three times to-day.

The place where we halted was the same where I had stood with Granow three evenings before. I recognized it by two willows which grew on the edge of the hollow from which I had first seen the band of night-prowlers emerge. This hollow lay now a little to our left, at perhaps fifty paces distance; and I could not have distinguished the willows in the increased darkness, but for the extraordinary keenness of my sight. On account of this darkness the men had to close up in order not to deviate from the narrow path, and this was the reason that a momentary halt had been ordered.

But it was only for a moment, and again we struck into the moor upon the narrow causeway: to the right and left among the rushes gleamed a pale phosphorescent light from the stagnant water which lay around in great pools, and the ground on which we were treading oscillated in a singular manner, as we crossed it in a sort of trot.

The path had been safely passed, and the men were marching more slowly, when my ear caught a clicking sound like the cocking of a gun. The sound was behind me; that I had plainly heard; and I knew besides that none of our party was armed. I stopped to listen, and again I heard the same sound; and presently I distinguished upon the spot where we had just passed, a figure emerge between the tall rushes, followed immediately by a second and a third. Without thinking to throw the heavy pack from my shoulders, and indeed without being conscious of it, I ran to the head of the file and touched Herr von Zehren, who with Jock Swart was leading the march, upon the shoulder.

"We are pursued!"

"Nonsense!" said Herr von Zehren.

"Halt!" cried a powerful voice behind us.

"Forward!" commanded our leader.

"Halt! halt!" it was repeated, and half-a-dozen shots were fired in quick succession, the bullets whistling over our heads.

In an instant our whole party was scattered, as is the custom of contrabandists when they are hotly pressed, and, as in the present instance, they are not prepared, or not disposed to offer resistance. On all sides, except in the direction of our pursuers, I saw the men, who had at once cast off their packs, stealthily slipping away, some even creeping off on all-fours. In the next moment Herr von Zehren and I were alone.

Behind us we heard the ring of iron ramrods in the barrels. They were re-loading the muskets that had been fired. This gave a brief pause.

Herr von Zehren and I were standing together. "How many are there?" he asked in a whisper.

"I cannot make out," I answered, in a similar tone; "I think more are coming up. There can hardly be less than a dozen."

"They will not advance any further in the darkness," he said.

"They are coming now," I urged.

"Halt! Who goes there!" came again from the pursuing party, who were not more than a hundred paces off, as well as could be judged in the darkness, and again a bullet or two whistled above our heads.

"I entreat you!" I said, taking his arm to urge him forward.

He let me fairly drag him a few steps. Then suddenly he seemed to awake as from a dream, and with his old voice and old manner said to me:

"How the devil did you come by this? Off with it!" and he flung down violently the pack from my shoulders.

"I have carried it the whole way," I murmured.

"Shameful!" he muttered; "shameful! But it all comes from---- My poor boy! my poor boy!"

The effect of the spirits he had drunk, to deaden as far as possible his feelings of shame, had entirely passed away. He was again all that he could be at his best moments, and at once my old love for him returned. My heart began to throb with emotion. I was again ready to give my life for him.

"Let us make haste," I said, seizing his cold hand. "It is high time, by heaven!"

"They will not venture any further up here," he replied, "even if they have a guide. One man cannot guide them all. But there is treachery at work. Did you not say something of the sort to me?"

"Yes; and the traitors are Pinnow and Jock Swart."

"Jock was the very one that advised this route."

"Exactly."

"And the villain was the first one to make off."

"He was in haste to join his new friends."

We thus spoke in short detached sentences, while we hurried almost at a run over the open space, where the darkness, which was now intense, offered the only security--but an ample one, it is true--against pursuit. A light rain began to fall; we literally could hardly see our hands before our faces. Nothing was to be seen or heard of our pursuers.

"The blundering dolts came too late," said Herr von Zehren; "they clearly planned to catch us on the narrow path. If our rascals had not run off, we might now go on comfortably."

"We cannot go back to Zehrendorf," I said.

"Why not?"

"If Jock Swart has betrayed us, as I would take my oath he has, they will certainly search Zehrendorf."

"Let them try it once," cried the Wild Zehren; "I will send them home with broken heads. No, no; they will not venture that, or they would have tried it long ago. At Zehrendorf we are as safe as in Abraham's bosom."

Just as he said these words there was a sudden gleam of light in the distance ahead of us, like a faint flash of lightning. Before I could frame any conjecture as to its cause, it flashed out once more, this time more vividly, and not vanishing again. The light increased every moment, rising higher and higher against the black sky with a steadily widening glare.

"Trantowitz is on fire!" cried Herr von Zehren.

It was not Trantowitz; it could not be Trantowitz, that lay further to the left and much lower. At Trantowitz there were not the lofty trees whose summits I could now distinguish in the glow which burned now red and now yellow, but ever brighter and brighter.

"By heaven it is my own house!" said Herr von Zehren, He rushed forward for a few paces, and then stopping, burst into a loud laugh. It was a hideous mirth.

"This is a good joke," he said; "they are burning the old nest down. That is smoking the old fox out of his den with a vengeance."

He seemed to think that this also was the work of his pursuers. But I recalled the threats which old Pahlen had uttered when I drove her off the place. I remembered that among the rest she had said something about "the red cock crowing from the roof."

But however the fire had originated in which the old castle was now rapidly consuming, it could not have occurred at a more critical moment for the castle's master. Although we were fully a mile distant, the flames, which now towered above the gigantic trees of the park, cast their light to our very feet; and as the awful glare was caught up and reflected by the black clouds, now changing to a lurid crimson, a strange and fearful light spread over the whole region. I could clearly see Herr von Zehren's features: they were, or appeared to me of the paleness of death.

"For God's sake let us hasten to get away from here," I said to him.

"The hunt is about to begin," he said.

The hunt had begun already. The pursuing party, who had beset the narrow pass, and had probably no other orders than to cut us off there, were now, by the strangest accident, enabled to continue the pursuit, and they made the best use of the opportunity. Spreading out like skirmishers, without venturing too dangerously near to the morass on either side, they pressed rapidly on, rousing from their hiding-places the fugitives, some of whom were stealing across the open space to the narrow outlet, and others crouching to the earth or lurking in hollows, in hope that the pursuit would be given over. Here and there a flash pierced the dusky glow, and the report of a musket rang out; and everywhere I saw the figures of pursuers and pursued flitting through the uncertain light, and heard wild cries of "Halt!" "Stand!" and a loud halloo and laughter when one was caught.

The blood seemed frozen in my veins. To be hunted down, and shot down in this fashion, like hares at a battue!

"And no arms," muttered Herr von Zehren, through his clenched teeth.

"Here!" cried I, tearing the pistols from my belt and placing one in his hand.

"Loaded?"

"Yes!"

"Now then, en avant!"

At a rapid run we had nearly reached the outlet-pass, distinguishable to those who knew the localities by a dead oak and a clump of hazels, when I caught the gleam of musket-barrels above the bushes. It was as I had dreaded: the outlet was beset.

"I know another way," whispered Herr von Zehren. "Perhaps it will bear us, and if not----"

I did not let him finish--"On! on!" I cried.

We turned sharply to the right and entered the tall rushes that bordered the morass. But they had already caught sight of us; there was a cry of "Halt!" and shots were fired at us; and some came rapidly running towards us.

"It must be here," said Herr von Zehren, parting the high rushes and plunging into them. I followed closely behind him.

Slowly and cautiously, crouching almost to the earth, we crept forward. It was a desperate attempt. More than once I sank to the knees in the black morass. I had made up my mind, in case I stuck fast in it, to blow out my brains.

"We shall do it yet," said Herr von Zehren in a whisper to me over his shoulder. "We have passed the worst now. I know it well. I was here after snipe last spring, and the villain Jock was with me. So: now we are through."

He pushed through the rushes, and at the same moment three men, who had separated from the rest, and must have been lying for some minutes in ambush a few paces from the outlet, sprang upon us. The foremost man was long Jock Swart.

"Dog!" hissed Herr von Zehren through his clenched teeth. He raised his pistol, and long Jock fell to the ground a dead man.

At the same moment, I also fired, and one of the others reeled and fell with a loud cry. The third shot off his piece, and ran at full speed back to the morass. The wounded man then rose to his feet and limped off with considerable celerity, but with loud cries of pain.

Herr von Zehren, in the meantime, had stepped up to the fallen man. I sprang to his side, and seized the man, who was lying on his face, by the shoulders to raise him up. As I lifted him his head fell heavily forward. A cold shudder ran through me. "My God!" I exclaimed, "he is dead!"

"He would have it so," said Herr von Zehren.

The body of the dead man slipped from my hand. I arose, trembling in every limb; my brain began to swim. Here stood a man with a discharged pistol in his hand; there lay another like a log upon the ground, and a red glow, as if from the open gate of hell, fell upon them both; the smoke of powder filled the air, and the rushes of the morass gave a hissing sound as of a thousand serpents.

However deeply the fearful sight and the feeling of horror with which I gazed upon it, imprinted themselves upon my memory, I remained stupefied and aghast for but a single moment. Then all other feelings were lost in the one thought: He must be saved; he must never fall into their hands! I believe I could have caught up the unhappy man in my arms and borne him off, had he resisted; but he offered no resistance. I now know that he was not flying to save his life; I now know that he would not have stirred one step from the spot, had he known that I had the leather pouch with ammunition for the pistols in my pocket; but he supposed that he was weaponless, and he was resolved not to be taken alive.

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Chapter XIX

At the edge of the morass, where we now were, there was a hollow, in which, among the deeper marshy spots overgrown with long reed-grass, there were higher patches, like islands, covered with thick clumps of alders, hazels, and willows. For any other, who did not know every foot of this wild region, it would have been impossible to find any way here; but the old huntsman, who was now the fox upon whose track the hounds were following hard, was not for a moment at fault either in the direction to be taken, or the pathless way that was to lead us through this wilderness. I have never been able to comprehend how a man of his age, hard pressed as he had already been, and wounded besides, as I presently learned, was able to overcome such difficulties as nearly vanquished my youthful strength. Whenever, since, I have seen an old thoroughbred, broken down under the saddle or in harness, who still, when his generous blood is roused, by his fire, his strength, and endurance, puts his younger rivals to shame, my mind reverts to the Wild Zehren in this night of terror. He burst through almost impenetrable thickets as though they were standing grain, he bounded over wide chasms like a stag, and did not check his rapid course until we came out of the hollow upon the dunes.

Here we took breath, and held a brief consultation which way we should next pursue. To our right lay Zanowitz, and could we reach it safely, certainly some friend or other would help us across the sea, or at the worst I was sailor enough to handle a sail-boat alone; but it was only too probable that the village and its vicinity were already beset with soldiers sent to capture any of the fugitives who might seek refuge there. To attempt to cross the heath between Zehrendorf and Trantowitz and reach the house of some one of Herr von Zehren's friends, would have been mere madness now that the whole sky was reddened with the still increasing conflagration, and the heath illuminated with a light that almost equalled that of day. But one chance was left us; to keep to the left along the strand as far as the promontory, there ascend the chalk-cliff in the vicinity of the ruined tower, and so reach the beech-wood of the park, which was but the continuation of the forest which bordered the coast for about eight miles.

"If I can only get so far," said he; "my arm begins to grow very painful."

Now for the first time I learned that he was wounded in the arm. He had not known it himself at first, and then supposed he had only struck it against some sharp projecting bough, until the increasing pain showed what was really the matter. I asked him to let me examine the wound; but he said we had no time for anything of that sort, and I had to content myself with binding up the arm as firmly as I could with his handkerchief, which indeed did but little good.

Here among the dunes I remembered for the first time that I had ammunition in my pocket, and by his direction I reloaded the pistols. A shudder came over me when he handed me his, and I touched the cold wet steel. But it was not blood, though in the red light it looked like it: it was but the moisture from the damp atmosphere still heavy with rain.

We emerged from the dunes upon the strand, in order to proceed more rapidly over the hard sand. The light was now, when apparently all the buildings were involved in the conflagration, so strong that a dull crimson glow, reflected from the reddened clouds, was thrown far out to sea. Even the lofty and steep chalk-cliffs under which we were presently passing, looked down upon us strangely in the strange light. There seemed something unearthly and awful in it; despite the considerable distance at which we were, notwithstanding that hills and woods lay between, notwithstanding that we were passing under the shelter of cliffs more than a hundred feet high, the light still reached us and smote us, as if what had been done, had been told by the earth to the heavens, and by the heavens to the sea; and earth, sky, and sea called out to us--For you there is no escape?

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Chapter XX

Some feeling of this kind must have been in the breast of the unhappy man at my side, for he said once or twice, as we clambered up the ravine, up which a steep path led between thick bushes from the strand to the top of the cliffs, "Thank God, it is dark here at least!"

During the ascent he had several times complained of his arm, the pain of which had now grown intolerable, and at last he was scarcely able to move forward, although I supported him as well as I could. I hoped that when we reached the top, and he had rested a little, the strength of which he had already given such extraordinary proof, would return; but no sooner had we gained the plateau than he sank fainting into my arms. True, he instantly recovered and declared that it was but a momentary weakness, and that the attack was over; but still he could hardly stand, and I was glad when I succeeded at last in getting him to the ruin, where an excavation, half filled with rubbish, between the walls, offered at least some protection from the east wind, which blew sharp and bitter cold over the ridge.

Here I begged him to sit down, while I descended the ravine, where about half-way from the top there was a tolerably abundant spring, at which we had made a short pause in our ascent, to get him some water, as he complained of a burning thirst. Fortunately, on account of the rain, I had put on in the morning the oil-skin hat which I had on at my arrival at Zehrendorf, but had not since worn, as Constance expressed such a dislike to it. This hat now served me for a bucket, and I was glad when I succeeded with some difficulty in filling it to the brim. I hurried back as fast as I was able without spilling the precious fluid, full of anxiety for the man to whom my heart drew me all the more powerfully, as calamity smote him with such terrible blows. What would become of him if he were not able soon to continue the flight? After what had happened at the edge of the morass, no exertion would be spared to take us; and that an amply sufficient force could be employed, was but too certain. The second pass had been beset by soldiers; that I had plainly seen. How long a time would elapse ere they came up here? If we were to escape, we must be at least six or eight miles from here before morning, and I thought with a shudder how he had twice fainted in my arms, and the wild words in which he had asked for water "that was not burning: it must not be burning." Perhaps he might revive after quenching his thirst. I had so firm a faith in the inexhaustibility of his strength.

Thus I tried to encourage myself as I hastened carefully to the ruin with the water in my hat, and from dread of stumbling scarcely cast a glance in the direction of the beech-wood, over which the flames were still glowing. While still at some distance, I thought I heard Herr von Zehren's voice calling my name, then resounded a shrill laugh, and as I rushed up in terror, I saw the unhappy man standing at the entrance to the excavation, his face turned to the fire, gesticulating wildly with his uninjured arm, and now pouring out execrations, now bursting into frenzied laughter, or calling for water "that was not burning." I drew him in deeper between the walls, and made him a kind of bed of the heath that grew thickly around, over which I spread my coat. Upon recovering from a brief swoon into which he again fell, he drank deeply of the water, and then thanked me in a voice the gentle tone of which singularly contrasted with his previous shrill vociferations, and deeply moved me.

"I fancied," he said, "that you too had abandoned me, and I must perish miserably here like a wounded stag. Is it not strange that the last Zehren who is worthy of the name, here, from the ancient fortress of his ancestors, now a pile of ruins, must watch the house that later generations built, consumed by the flames? How did it take fire? What do you suppose? I have many other questions to ask you, but I feel so strangely--such strange fancies pass through my head. I never felt thus before; and my arm too is very painful. I think it is all over with the Wild Zehren--all over, all over! Let me lie here, George, and die quietly. How long will it be before the fire eats its way through the subterranean passage, and the old Zehrenburg flies into the air?"

Thus reason and madness contended in his fevered brain. Now he spoke connectedly and intelligently of what was next to be done, as soon as he had recovered his strength a little, and then he suddenly saw Jock Swart lying before him on the ground, and again it was not Jock but Alfonso, the brother of his wife, whose heart his sword had pierced. And yet--and I have often reflected upon this, while pondering over the singular character of this man--these terrible memories recurring in his delirium were accompanied with no words that indicated the slightest remorse. On the contrary, they had been rightly dealt with, and so should it be with all that ventured to resist his will. If they had burned his house, all castles and villages for leagues around should be ravaged by the flames. He would see if he could not punish his vassals as he thought fit, if they dared to rise in revolt. He would chastise them until they howled for mercy. Such utterances of his haughty spirit, exalted to madness by the fever that was raging in his veins, contrasted frightfully with the utter wretchedness of our position. While in fancy he was charging through burning towns that his wrath had given to the flames, his frame was shivering with ague, and his teeth chattered audibly. The cold, which grew ever keener towards daybreak, seemed to pierce to my marrow; and as often as the unhappy man, whose head rested upon my lap, ceased for a while his ravings, my head sank forwards or sideways to the cold wall against which I was leaning; and with ever more painful exertions I strove against the weariness which oppressed me with leaden weight. What would become of us if my strength gave way? Indeed what would become of us as it was? We could not remain thus. I was afraid that he would die in my arms if I could get no assistance. And yet how could I go for help without the risk of abandoning him to his pursuers? And how could I leave him now, when he was wanting to dash his head to pieces against the stones, and was craving to drink up the sea to assuage his consuming thirst?

During the night I had several times gone to the spring for water, and when I brought it he was always very grateful. Indeed, towards daybreak he grew much quieter, so that I indulged the hope that after all we should soon be able to get away. At last, overcome by exhaustion, I fell asleep, and must have slept some time, for the dawn was already glimmering when I was awakened by the touch of a hand on my shoulder. Herr von Zehren stood before me; I looked at him with horror. Now I saw what he had suffered in that fearful night. His healthy bronzed face was of a clayey pallor, his large brilliant eyes were dull and deeply sunk in their sockets, his beard dishevelled, his lips white, and his clothes torn and covered with dirt and blood. It was no longer the man that I had known, but more like a spectre.

A faint smile played about his pale lips, and there was a touch of the old vivacity in the tone of his voice, as he said: "I am sorry to have to awaken you, my poor boy, but it is high time."

I sprang to my feet and put on my coat, which he had carefully laid over my shoulders.

"That is, it is high time for you," he added.

"How so?" I asked, in alarm.

"I should not get far," he replied, with a sad smile; "I just now made a little trial; but it is impossible."

And he seated himself on a projecting piece of the wall, and leaned his head upon his hand.

"Then I also stay," I said.

"They will soon follow us up here."

"So much the more reason for my remaining."

He raised his head.

"You are a generous fool," he said, with a melancholy smile; "one of those that remain anvils all their life long. What advantage in the world could it be to me, that they caught you with me here? And why should you give up, and let yourself be caught? Are you brought down to nothing, and less than nothing? Are you an old wounded fox, burnt out of his den and with the hounds on his track? Go, and do not make me entreat you any more, for it hurts me to talk. Good-by!"

He reached me an ice-cold, trembling hand, which I pressed with tears in my eyes, and said:

"How can you ask it of me? I were the vilest wretch alive to leave you thus. Happen what may, I remain."

"It is my will that you leave me--I command you."

"You cannot--you must yourself feel that you cannot. You cannot command me to cover myself with disgrace."

"Well then," said he, "I will make a confession to you. It is true that it so happens that I cannot get away; but were I in condition to escape, I would not and will not do it. I will not have a hue and cry raised after me, and placards posted as if I were a vagabond or common criminal to be hunted through the land. I will await their coming here--here where my ancestors beat back so many an attack of the shopkeepers. I will defend myself to the last; they shall not take me from this place alive. I do not know what I might do, if I were altogether alone in the world. Probably this would then not have happened. I have paid dearly for the folly of trying to help my brother in his distress. And then I have a daughter; I do not love her, nor she me; but for this very reason she shall not be able to say that her father was a coward, who did not know when it was time to die."

"Do not think of your daughter!" I cried, losing all my self-control. "She has rent the single tie by which you were still bound to her." And briefly and in hurried words I told him of Constance's flight.

My intention was to tear away at all costs every pretext that he might allege for not doing what he considered unworthy a Zehren. It was most inconsiderate in me to make such a disclosure to him at such a moment; but my knowledge of human nature was then very slight, and my faculties were confused by the anguish of the last thirty-six hours, and my fear and distress for the unhappy man at my side.

And it seemed that my design had succeeded. He arose, as soon as I had finished my hurried recital, and calmly said:

"Is it then so with me? Am I a vagabond, and my daughter dishonored? My daughter a harlot, who throws herself into the arms of the very man whose hand she cannot touch without dishonoring me? Then may I well do what others would do in my place. But before we set out, get me another draught of water, George. It will refresh me; and I must not fail soon again. Make haste!"

I caught up the hat, joyful that I had at last persuaded him. When I had gone a few paces he called me back again.

"Do not mind my giving you so much trouble, George. Take my thanks for all."

"How can you speak so?" I said. "Step back out of the cold wind; I shall be back in five minutes."

I started off at a run. There was no time to be lost; streak after streak of pale light was appearing in the east; in half an hour the sun would rise. I had hoped that by this time we would have been leagues away in the depth of the forest.

The spring in the ravine was soon reached, but it gave me some trouble to fill the hat. In the night I had trampled the earth around it, and stones had rolled in, which nearly blocked it up. While I was stooping over it and clearing away the obstructions, a dull report of fire-arms reached my ear. I started and felt involuntarily for the pistol which was still in my belt. The other I had left with him. Was it possible? Could it be? He had sent me away!

I could not wait for the water; I was irresistibly impelled to hasten back. Like a hunted stag I sprang up the side of the ravine, and bounded over the plateau to the ruin.

All was over.

Upon the very spot where I had parted from him, where I had last pressed his hand, he had shot himself. The smoke of the powder was still floating in the excavation. The pistol lay beside him; his head had fallen sideways against the wall. He breathed no more--he was quite dead. The Wild Zehren knew where a bullet must strike if the wound was to be mortal.

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Chapter XXI

I was still sitting, stupefied and incapable of reflection, by the dead man, when the first rays of the sun, which rose with tremulous lustre over the sea, fell upon his pallid face. A shudder ran through me. I arose and stood trembling in every limb. Then I ran, as fast as my tottering feet would bear me, along the path that descended from the ruin to the beech-wood. I could not now say what my real intention was. Did I simply wish to flee from this place of terror, from the presence of the corpse whose glazed eyes were fixed upon the rising sun? Did I wish to get assistance? Did I design to carry out alone the plan of escape I had formed for both, and thus save myself? I do not now know.

I reached the park and the tarn, the water of which looked blackly through the yellow leaves that yesterday's storm had swept from the trees. In this water had drowned herself the wife of the man who had borne her from her far-off home over her brother's corpse, and who was now lying dead in the ruins of the castle of his forefathers. Their daughter had thrown herself into the arms of a profligate, after deceiving her father, and playing a shameful game with me. This all came at once into my mind like a hideous picture seen in the black mirror of the tarn. As if some pitiless god had rent away the veil from the pandemonium which to my blinded eyes had seemed a paradise, I saw at a glance the two last months of my life, and what they really were. I felt a nameless horror, less, I think, of myself, than of a world where such things had been, where such things could be. If it be true that nearly every man at some time in his life is led or driven by malignant demons to the verge of madness, this moment had come for me. I felt an almost irresistible impulse to throw myself into the black water which legend represented to be of unfathomable depth. I do not know what I might have done, had I not at this moment heard the voices of men who were coming down the path that led from the park. The instinct of self-preservation, which is not easily extinguished in a youth of nineteen, suddenly awaked within me. I would not fall into the hands of those whom I had been since the previous evening making such prodigious exertions to escape. In a bound I sprang up the bank that surrounded the tarn, leapt down on the other side, and then lay still, buried in the thick bushes and fallen leaves, to let them pass before recommencing my flight. In a minute more they were at the spot I had left. They stopped here, where the path branched off towards the ruin, and deliberated. "This must be the way," said one. "Of course; there is no other, you fool," said another. "Forward!" cried a third voice, apparently belonging to the leader of the party, "or the lieutenant will get there from the beach sooner than we. Forward!"

The patrol ascended the path towards the ruin, and I cautiously raised my head and saw them disappearing among the trees. When I thought them at a sufficient distance, I arose, and struck deeper into the wood. The impulse to self-destruction had passed; I had but one desire, to save myself; and the almost miraculous manner in which I had just avoided a peril from which there seemed no escape, filled me with new hope, as a losing player feels at the first lucky cast.

When we boys played "robbers and soldiers" in the fir-wood around my native town, I had always managed to be of the robber party, and they invariably chose me their captain. The duties of this office I had always so discharged that at last none were willing to take the part of soldiers. The boast that I had so often made in our merry sports, that no one could catch me unless I allowed myself to be caught, was now to be tested in deadly earnest. Unfortunately just now, when life and liberty were at stake, the most important thing of all was wanting, the fresh and inexhaustible strength that carried me through my boyish exploits, and which now by reason of the terrible mental emotions of the last twenty-four hours, and the excessive physical exertion I had undergone, was well-nigh broken down. To my other sufferings, I was tormented with gnawing hunger and burning thirst. Keeping always in the thickest of the forest, I came upon no spring nor pool of water. The loose soil had long since absorbed the rain of the previous day, and the slight moisture that I was able to suck from the dead leaves only increased my sufferings.

My intention had been to traverse the forest, which bordered the coast for about eight miles, in its whole length, in order to place as much distance as possible between me and my pursuers, before I made the attempt to leave the island at any point to which chance might conduct me. I had trusted that I should be able to accomplish this distance at the latest by noon; but I was compelled to admit to myself that in the condition in which I was, and which grew worse every minute, this was no longer to be thought of. I had also formed no just conception of the obstacles that impeded me. I had often before been in this forest, but only for short distances, and I had never been compelled to keep to a certain direction, and at the same time anxiously guard against every possibility of being seen. But now, unless I made long detours, I had to break through dense thickets scarcely penetrable even by the deer, or again take a circuit which took me far out of the way, to avoid some open space where there was no sufficient concealment. Then I had to bury myself in leaves and bushes while I listened to discover whether some sound that I heard really proceeded from human voices, and to wait thus until all was again silent. More than once I came upon forest-paths, where double caution was necessary; and with all I felt my strength constantly diminishing, and looked forward with terror to the moment when it should fail me altogether, and I should sink, probably to rise no more. And to lie here dead, with wide-open, glazed eyes, like what I had seen--by this time they had probably found him and carried him down, and then in some fashion or other they must bury him--but how long would I lie here in the depth of the forest before I was found, unless it were by the foxes?

But why did I fly, after all? What had I then done to deserve such extremity of punishment? What could they do to me worse than the torments I was now suffering? And what was this? Here was a path that in half an hour would bring me out of the forest. Possibly I might then at once come upon the soldiers. So much the better; then there would be an end of it.

And I really went some distance along the path, but suddenly I stopped again. My father! what would he say when he saw me led by soldiers through the town, and the street-boys shouting after me? No, no; I could never bring that upon him; better that the foxes should devour me than that!

I turned again into the forest, but ever more agonizing grew the strain upon my fast-failing powers. My knees tottered; the cold sweat ran from my face; more than once I had to stop and lean against a tree, because all became dark before my eyes, and I feared that I should faint. Thus I dragged myself for perhaps half an hour more--it was by my calculation about two in the afternoon--when my long agony found an end. In the edge of a small clearing which I had just reached, stood a little hut, lightly constructed of branches and mats of straw, looking almost like a dog-kennel, and which probably had been built by wood-cutters or poachers. I crawled in, buried myself in the straw and leaves with which the floor of the hut was deeply heaped, and which happily were tolerably dry, and fell at once into a sleep which was almost as heavy as death.

When I awaked it was quite dark, and it was some time ere I could recollect where I was and what had happened; but at last I recovered full consciousness of my desperate situation. I crept out of the hut with great difficulty, for my limbs felt as if they were broken, and the first steps I took gave me excruciating pain. This, however, presently passed off. My sleep had somewhat refreshed me; but my hunger, the cravings of which had aroused me, was now so torturing that I resolved to appease it at every hazard, especially as I felt that unless this was done, I must of necessity soon give way again. But how was this to be done? At last I hit upon a plan to which nothing but my desperation could have prompted me. I determined to keep to the left through the woods, until I reached the open country, which I calculated must happen in about an hour. I would then strike for the nearest farm-house, and there either by fair means or foul get something to appease my hunger, and perhaps also a supply for the next day.

Accident seemed to favor the execution of this plan. In a few minutes I came upon a sort of road, which I followed, although it did not run in the direction that I desired. But how great was my astonishment and my alarm, as, in far less time than I had hoped, I emerged from the woods, and by the starlight distinguished a region of country which I could not by any possibility mistake. There on the right were the cottages belonging to Herr von Granow's estate, Melchow; further on, embosomed in stately trees, was the proprietor's house, and from a slight eminence rose the white steeple of the new village church. Further to the left, lower down in the valley, lay Trantowitz, and still further, but on higher ground, had Zehrendorf stood. Indeed, as if to leave me not an instant of doubt that I had got back to the old well-known district of country, there suddenly sprang from the immense pile of ruins where the castle had stood, a flame so high and so vivid that the steeple of Melchow church glowed with rosy light. But there must either have been little fuel left for the fire, or else in the day there had been ample provision made for its extinction, for the flames sank again immediately, the bright light vanished, and there only remained a feeble glow, as from the embers of a burnt brush-heap in a field.

So at the sacrifice of all my strength, I had wandered about the whole day in a circle, and now at night-fall found myself not far from the spot from which I had started in the morning. This was not very consolatory, but it was ridiculous; and I laughed--not very loud nor cheerfully, it is true, but still genuine laughter. And at the same moment the fancy seized me that perhaps my good genius had led me here against my wishes. Where would I be less likely to be looked for than exactly here? Where had I better friends than here at Trantowitz, for example, where everybody at the house and in the village knew me; where I could knock at any door and be sure to find help and relief. Besides, the circumstance that during the entire day I had met no human creature, to a certain extent assured me that the pursuit towards the last had not been so hot, and finally I was at the point of starvation, and had no choice left me, so I pushed on, almost carelessly, over the fields to Trantowitz, for the first time since we had separated, thinking seriously of the good Hans, and wondering what had become of him. Had he overtaken the fugitives? Had there been a scene, as in that night when the Wild Zehren was pursued and overtaken by the brother of his mistress, and their blades crossed in the uncertain light of the Spanish stars? Had blood flowed for the daughter, as well as for the mother? Had Hans fallen a victim in his bad cause, or had he been victorious? If so, what then? Were the officers of justice after him as they were after me? Had they caught him, perhaps red-handed? Was he now sitting behind bolts and bars?

I grew very sad at heart as this idea struck me. Hans behind bolts and bars was a melancholy picture--one could as well fancy a polar bear fireman on a steamer.

Without observing where I was going, I had approached the house nearer than was necessary to reach the village. From the field a path led across a dry ditch into a wilderness of about two acres extent, of potatoe, cabbage, and salad-beds, blackberry thickets, and stunted fruit-trees, which Hans, by a singular delusion, called his garden, and prized highly because he here in winter shot the most hares from his chamber-window. Towards this chamber, famous in all the country round, my eyes involuntarily turned, and to my great astonishment I perceived a faint glimmer of light in it. The window was open, and the light, as I discovered upon a nearer approach, came from the sitting-room, the door between the two not being closed. I listened, and heard the clatter of a knife and fork. Could Hans be at home again already? I could not resist the temptation, clambered through the window into the chamber, looked through the door, and there sat Hans, just as I had seen him the previous morning, behind a couple of bottles and an immense ham, from which he raised his blue eyes at my entrance and stared at me with a look of astonishment rather than alarm.

"Good evening, Herr von Trantow," I said.

I was about to say more, and explain how I had come, but involuntarily I clutched a just-opened bottle with shaking hand, and drained it before I set it down. Hans gave a nod of approval at my prompt recourse to his universal specific. Then he arose without a word, went out and closed the shutters of both windows, came in and bolted the door, took a seat opposite to me, lighted a cigar, and waited in silence until my ravenous hunger was appeased sufficiently to allow me to converse.

"Suppose in the meantime you tell me what happened to you," I said, without raising my eyes from my plate.

Hans had but little to tell, and told that little in the fewest possible words. He had galloped a couple of miles or so along the road to Fährdorf--the only one which the fugitives could possibly have taken--when he observed that his horse, who had so far exhibited no signs of fatigue, began to fail. After riding another mile at a more moderate pace, he was convinced of the impossibility of continuing the pursuit. "The road was very bad," Hans said; "I am a heavy rider, and the poor brute had probably had neither feed nor water for twenty-four hours." So he dismounted and led the horse at a walk the nearest way to Trantowitz, where he arrived safely at nightfall. "By the time I had saddled my Wodan and ridden to Fährdorf," he said, "they were far away. And then--it is always the way with me that I can never manage to do what other men would do in my place; and----" Here he drained his glass, refilled it, leaned back in his chair, and enveloped himself in a cloud of smoke.

The good Hans! he had meant all for the best--even his plan of smashing the skull of our happy rival. How could he help it if on this occasion, as so often before--always in his life indeed--he rode a slow horse? He could not founder the animal in a cause which really did not concern it in the least.

About eight o'clock, while he was sitting in his room, he saw the light of the fire, and saddled Wodan and hurried to it, followed by all his wagons. Men came over with wagons and fire-engines from the other estates; but it was not possible to save anything; old Pahlen, who no doubt had no difficulty in eluding the vigilance of the stupid stable-boy, had done the work too well--the flames burst from all parts of the building at once. "I rode home," he went on, "and went to bed, and waked up this morning. I don't know why, I had much rather never have awaked again."

Poor Hans!

This morning, for the first time, he had learned from his men what had happened; how the night before, the officers of the customs, with the assistance of half a company of soldiers, had hunted down the smugglers; and that they had caught four or five, who would all be hung. And a soldier had sunk in the morass, one of the custom-house men had been wounded, and Jock Swart shot dead. Herr von Zehren had been found dead this morning at the ruin. That it was a lucky thing for him not to have lived to learn that his daughter had run away, and that the old Pahlen, whom the stable-boy Fritz and Christian Halterman had caught in the act, had set fire to his castle and burned it to the ground. And they would have hanged him, just as they meant to hang George Hartwig, the son of customs-accountant Hartwig at Uselin, who had been the captain of the smugglers, as soon as they caught him.

Hans filled my glass again, and invited me by an expressive look to empty it at once, as if so I could best afford him the consolatory assurance that they had not hanged me so far.

Now it was my turn to relate. Hans listened, silently smoking; but when I described the death of the Wild Zehren, and how I had last seen him--dead, with his pale face turned to the rising sun, the first beams of which fell in his glazed eyes--he sighed deeply, rocked his great head from side to side, and drank deep draughts of wine.

"And now, what do you advise me to do?" I said, at last.

"What is your own idea?" asked Hans.

That my position was a most serious one, even Hans perceived. I had forced Pinnow, pistol in hand, to take me with him; I had taken the most direct and most active part in the expedition; I had fired upon the officers; I had accompanied Herr von Zehren in his desperate flight. In the eyes of the law these were far from being meritorious performances; and the less I came into contact with the law henceforth, the better it would be for me.

"And yet," I said, "would that this were my greatest trouble; but my father would never outlive the shame of having a son in the penitentiary; and therefore I am resolved to fly, though it were to the uttermost parts of the earth."

Hans nodded approbation.

"What if I went to America?"

So brilliant an idea as this, which at a blow removed all the perplexities of the situation, secured the instantaneous adhesion of Hans.

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Chapter XXII

But the most dazzling ideas are frequently found to have their dark side when it comes to putting them in execution. The financial question Hans thought he had settled when he went to his desk, which was not--and apparently could not be--locked, took out a box, and poured its contents between us on the table. There were from four to five hundred thalers in gold, silver, and treasury notes, mixed up with invitations to hunting-parties, receipted and unreceipted bills, dance-cards (apparently from an earlier time), samples of wool, percussion-caps, and a few dozen buckshot, which rolled upon the floor and awaked Caro, who had been asleep under the sofa, and now crept forth, yawning and stretching, as if he considered that buckshot belonged to his department.

Hans said that he had at the moment, so far as he knew, no more in the house; but if it was not sufficient, he would search his coats, in which he had from time to time found quite considerable sums between the cloth and the lining.

I was much affected by Hans's kindness; but even were I to avail myself of it, how was the flight to be accomplished? Hans had heard--and it appeared only too probable--that search was being made for me everywhere. How could I, without being seized, make my way to Bremen or Hamburg or any other port from which I could get a passage to America--at least so long as the pursuit was still hot?

After much consideration, Hans hit upon the following plan, the inspiration to which sprang from his generous heart. I was for a while to remain concealed in his house, until the first heat of the pursuit was over. Then--always supposing that he was himself unmolested--we would undertake the journey together, I being disguised as his coachman or servant. The question now arose about the passport, without which, as I knew, no one was allowed to go on board the ship. Here also the inventive Hans found an expedient. A certain Herr Schulz, who had been his overseer, had intended to emigrate the previous spring, and procured the necessary papers, but had died before his project was accomplished. These papers Hans had kept, and after some searching we found them. It appeared from their contents that the emigrating overseer was not nineteen, but forty years old; not six feet without his shoes, which was my stature, but only four and a half; and moreover, he was distinguished by being very deeply pitted with the small-pox. Still, Hans was of opinion that they would not look into the matter so closely, and a hundred thaler note would reconcile all the little discrepancies.

It was two o'clock by the time we had matured this ingenious plan, and Hans's eyes were growing heavy with weariness. As he insisted that I should sleep in his bed, I was obliged to leave him the sofa in the sitting-room, on which he had scarcely stretched himself when he began to snore. I covered him with his cloak, and went into his chamber, where, tired as I was, I still took time to avail myself of the simple apparatus for ablution that I found there, to my great comfort. Then dressing myself again, I lay down on Hans's bed.

I slept soundly an hour or two, and as I awaked at the first gray glimmer of dawn, a resolution with which I had lain down, arose clear to my mind. I would go: the good Hans should not on my account be brought into any more serious troubles. The longer I remained with him, the greater was the probability that his complicity, which it was just possible might remain concealed as things were, would be discovered, and it would then appear in a so much more serious light. Besides, I had in truth but little faith in the availability of the pass of the deceased overseer of four feet and a half high; and finally, as a youth of no craven spirit, I was possessed with the conviction that it was my duty to take the consequences of my action, as far as possible, upon my own head alone.

So I softly arose from the bed, wrote a few words of gratitude to Hans for all his kindness, filled my game-bag with the remains of the supper, stuck the note in the neck of a wine-bottle on the table, in the assurance that Hans would not overlook it there, gave a parting nod to the brave fellow who still lay in the same position upon the sofa in which he had fallen asleep two hours before, patted Caro, who wished to accompany me, and signified to him that I could not take him, took my gun, and went out by the same window at which I had entered.

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