The Lost Manuscript Part 98

"Come here, young man," shouted Mr. Hummel, "I wish to have you stuffed after your death, and placed before the council house as a model for later generations of the love of truth. When I return you may depend upon it I shall again give myself the pleasure of expressing my high opinion of you; then I will reveal to the Professor the consummate meanness of your character. I have a great mind to make your worthlessness known in the daily paper in order that you may become a scare-crow to the world."

The servant listened with downcast eyes, and bowed mockingly.

"Good-night, courtling," said Mr. Hummel, going out and closing the door behind him.

Mr. Hummel walked with measured tread from the house, turning to the left side where a path entered a thicket; there he concealed himself.

The rain poured, and the wind roared in the tops of the trees. Mr.

Hummel looked cautiously about him when he entered the darkness of the spot where Gabriel and Prince Victor had once spoken to one another of the ghosts of the castle. There was a slight stir in the thicket, a tall figure approached him and seized his arm.

"Good," said Mr. Hummel, in a low tone; "go back quickly, Gabriel, and expect me in time. But we must seek out dark paths and avoid the lights; you must conceal your face under your veil when we come into the open."

Ilse took the arm of her landlord and walked along, covered by the great umbrella which Mr. Hummel held over her.

Behind the fugitives the tower clock struck ten, when the outline of the inn outside the gate was seen against the darkened heaven.

"We must not be too early nor too late," said Mr. Hummel, restraining the steps of his eager companion. At the same moment a carriage came slowly towards them out of the darkness. Ilse's arm trembled. "Be calm," begged Mr. Hummel; "see whether that is your friend."

"I recognize the horses," whispered Ilse, breathless. Mr. Hummel approached the coachman's covered seat, and asked, as a pa.s.sword, "From Toad?"

"Ville," answered a firm voice. The Crown Inspector sprang down to Ilse; there was a little movement in the carriage, the corner of the leather curtain was lifted, and a small hand was put out. Hummel seized and shook it. "An agreeable addition," he said. Without speaking a word, the Crown Inspector unb.u.t.toned the leather curtain. "My dear friend," cried a trembling female voice from within. Ilse turned to Mr.

Hummel; "not a word," he said; "a pleasant journey to you." Ilse was pushed in; Mrs. Rollmaus seized hold of her arm, and held it firmly; and while the Crown Inspector was again b.u.t.toning the curtain, Mr.

Hummel greeted him. "It gives me great pleasure," he said, "but for an exchange of cards this is not a favorable opportunity. Besides which, our cla.s.ses, according to natural history, are not the same. But punctuality at the right time and goodwill were mutual." The Crown Inspector jumped upon the coachman's box and seized the reins. He turned the carriage, Mr. Hummel gave a farewell tap upon the wet leather curtain, the horses trotted off quietly, and the carriage pa.s.sed into the darkness.

Hummel looked after it till the heavy rain concealed it from his view, cast one more searching glance down the now empty road, and hastened back to the city. He went to the Pavilion through the most remote part of the grounds; at the spot where Gabriel had put the lady under his charge, he dived into the deep shade of the trees, and made his way cautiously through the wet bushes to the back of the house. He felt along the wall. "Stop on the threshold," whispered Gabriel; "I will take off your boots."

"Cannot I be spared this court toilet?" grumbled Hummel. "Stocking-feet are contrary to my nature."

"All will have been in vain if you are heard on the staircase."

Hummel slipped up the stairs behind Gabriel into the dark room. "Here are Mrs. Werner's rooms. You must move backwards and forwards in the dark, and sometimes move the chairs, till I call you. There is now another spy, they are talking together below. I fear they suspect that we have something on hand. They look at me askance. The lackey every day carries the lamps from the sitting-room, and nothing must be altered; it would create suspicion if he did not hear some one moving about in the next room. When all is quiet, then the lackey leaves the house, and we can speak to one another."

"It is against my conscience, Gabriel," murmured Hummel, "to remain in a strange house without the permission of the owner or lodger."

"Quiet," warned Gabriel, anxiously; "I hear the man on the stairs; close the door behind me."

Mr. Hummel stood alone in the dark. He placed his boots near the arm-chair, walked around them, and sometimes gave them a push. "Very gently always," he thought, "for they are the movements of a Professor's wife. The demands which now-a-days are made on a householder exceed all imagination. An elopement from the house of a stranger, and acting the part of a lady in the darkness of night." The steps of men were heard outside, and he again pushed his boots.

"Darkness in a strange house is by no means desirable," he continued, to himself. "I have always had a hatred of a dark room since I once fell down into a cellar; this gloom is only good for cats and rogues.

But the most lamentable thing for a citizen is, that his boots should be withheld from him." He heard a light tread in the next room, and again moved the chair.

At last all became quiet in the house. Mr. Hummel threw himself back in the chair, and looked wearily around the strange room. A pale ray of light fell from without through a crevice of the curtains, and the ta.s.sel of the curtain and the gilded top of a chair glimmered in the darkness. Now at last Mr. Hummel might put on his boots, and then for a time he occupied himself with severe comments upon the world. His usual hour for rest had meanwhile come, and he was tired from his journey; he sank gradually into a dreamy state, and his last distinct thought was, "there must be no snoring in this princely darkness." With this intention he closed his eyes, and said farewell to the cares of the world.

In his sleep it appeared to him as if he heard a slight noise; he opened his eyes and looked about the room. He saw indistinctly that the wall looked different from what it had done. The large mirror that before stood there, seemed to have vanished, and it appeared to him as if a veiled figure stood in its place and moved. He was a courageous man, but his limbs now trembled with terror. He barricaded himself behind a chair. "Is this a magic lantern?" he began, with stammering voice; "if so, I beg you not to disturb yourself; I admire your skill, but have not my purse with me. But if you are a man, I should like a more distinct knowledge of the fact. I call upon you to show yourself in substance. I have the honor of introducing myself to you in this scanty light. Hat-manufacturer, Henry Hummel; my papers are correct--a pa.s.sport to Paris." He put his hand into his breast pocket. "As a respectable citizen is bound to defend himself in these dangerous times, it has been inserted in my pa.s.sport, _avec un pistolet_. I beg you kindly to bear this in mind." He took out a pocket pistol and held it before him. He again looked at the spot; nothing was to be seen; the mirror stood as before. He rubbed his eyes. "Stupid stuff," he said; "it was, after all, only a sleepy fancy."

The door of the house was closed outside. For a while Mr. Hummel stood looking round suspiciously, and perspiration rose on his brow. At last he heard Gabriel's knock at the door; he opened it, took the light quickly from his hand, and approached the mirror so as to throw the light upon the frame and wall.

"It seems to stand firm as iron," he said to himself; "it was only a deception."

But he hastily seized his hat, and took the servant out of the room.

"I have had enough for to-day," he muttered; "I wish to get out of this house as quickly as possible. I do not like to have you remain here alone, Gabriel. Early to-morrow I will call for you; I have business for the whole day in the city. Endeavor to sleep; in our beds we shall both think of this intrigue and of her who is still seeking a secure roof for protection from night-storms and spirits."

Ilse traveled through the night; the rain poured in torrents around her, the storm howled through the trees, and the water splashed high from the ruts about the horses and carriage. It was only between the figures of the men on the front seat that she caught glimpses of the midnight sky, which hung heavy and dark above the fugitives. Sometimes a glimmer of light twinkled from the window of a house, and then again there was nothing but rain, storm, and black night. She maintained a terrified silence during the ghostly journey, Mrs. Rollmaus still clasping her hand. Ilse was driving into the world, a storm-lashed world, poor in light and rich in tears. There was uncertainty and fearful anxiety everywhere, whether she thought of the loved one whom she left behind her in the hands of the persecutor, or saw before her the troubled countenance of her father, and the fields of the estate where the young man dwelt whose neighborhood now threatened her with new trouble; but she sat erect.

"When he returns to the door over which the dark angel hovers, he will ask in vain for his wife. But I have done what I had to do: may the sovereign Lord of life watch over me."

There was the sound of a horse's hoofs behind the carriage; it approached nearer. Where the private road to the estate branched off from the highway, a cavalier galloped up on a foaming horse; he spoke to some one on the coachman's seat, the carriage and rider rushed forward side by side for a few moments, then the rider reined in his horse. The Crown Inspector threw a branch of a tree into the carriage.

"The rider has brought this for Lady Ilse; it is from the tree under her window, and the reckoning is paid."

_CHAPTER x.x.xVII_.

THE LORD HIGH STEWARD.

At the same hour in which Ilse was listening to the comforting words of her landlord, the carriage of the Lord High Steward was driving to the tower castle of the Princess. The Princess received the announcement with astonishment, and flew down to her reception-room. The Professor caused the chest with its contents to be taken to his room, and was in the act of bending over the ma.n.u.script, when the High Marshal entered below to deliver himself of his commission. Meanwhile the Princess awaited the old gentleman.

The Lord High Steward had been appointed to the honorable office of attendance upon the Princess: it was a considerate way of removing him from the person of the Sovereign. At the same hour every morning his carriage was to be seen standing before the wing of the castle which was occupied by the Princess. His personal relations to the young Princess appeared cool; in Court society he was treated by her with just as much distinction as was needful, and pet.i.tioners learnt sometimes that their requests were imparted to him. He was esteemed by the citizens on account of his benevolence, and was the only one of the lords of the Court concerning whom one never heard an unfavorable opinion. He dwelt in an old-fas.h.i.+oned house surrounded by gardens, was unmarried, rich, without relations, and lived quietly by himself. He was, it was supposed, without influence; he was not in favor, and was therefore treated by the young cavaliers with chivalrous condescension.

He was, notwithstanding all this, indispensable to the Sovereign and the Court. He was the great dignitary who was necessary for all ceremonious affairs; he was counsellor in all family matters; he was amba.s.sador and escort in all transactions with foreign powers. He was well known at most of the courts of Europe, had acquaintances in the great diplomatic bodies, and enjoyed the special favor of various rulers whose good will was of importance to the Sovereign; and as in our courts the reputation that one enjoys at foreign capitals is the standard of the judgment of the palace, the correspondence which he carried on with political leaders in foreign countries, and the abundance of broad ribbons of which he had the choice, gave him with the Sovereign himself an authority which was at the same time burdensome and valuable; he was the secret counsellor for the Court and the last resource in difficult questions.

The servant opened the door of the Princess's room with a profound bow to the old gentleman. Indifferent questions and answers were exchanged, the Princess entered the adjoining room and intimated to her faithful lady-in-waiting by a sign that she was to keep watch in front. When the conversation was secure from the ear of any listener, the demeanor of the Princess altered, she hastened up to the old gentleman, seized him by the hand, and looked inquiringly at his earnest countenance:

"Has anything happened? No trifle could have caused you to take the trouble of coming into this wilderness. What have you to say to your little daughter,--is it praise or blame?"

"I am but fulfilling my duty," replied the old lord, "if I make my appearance in order to take your Highness's commands, and to ascertain whether the residence of my gracious Princess is suitably arranged."

"Your Excellency has come to complain," exclaimed the Princess, drawing back, "for you have not one kind word for your little woman."

The High Steward bowed his white head in apology:

"If I appear more serious than usual to your Highness, it is perhaps only the fancies of an old man which have intruded themselves at an unseasonable time. I beg permission to relieve myself of them by discussing them with your Highness. The health of the Sovereign is a cause of anxiety to us all: it reminds us of the transitory nature of life. Even the good humor of Prince Victor does not succeed in dissipating my troubled thoughts."

"How does my cousin?" asked the Princess.

"He overcomes the difficulties of being a Prince in a wonderful way,"

replied the High Steward; "but he is sound to the core; he knows very well how to manage serious things cleverly. I rejoice," added the courtier, "that my gracious Princess feels warmly towards a cousin who is faithfully devoted to her Highness."

"He has always been true and kind to me," said the Princess, indifferently. "But now you have punished me severely enough. What you have to say to me confidentially must not be carried on in this way."

She took a chair, and pushed it into the middle of the room.

"Here, sit down, my worthy lord, and allow me to hold the hand of my friend when he tells me what makes him anxious on my account."

She fetched herself a low tabouret, held the right hand of the old lord between hers, looking earnestly into his eyes.

"Your Highness knows the way of giving me courage to make bold requests," said the courtier, laughing.