The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Vii Part 77

Frederick lay down again. "I'll see if I can sleep," he said.

Margaret was sitting by the hearth. She was spinning and thinking of rather unpleasant things. The village clock struck half-past eleven; the door opened and the court-clerk, Kapp, came in. "Good day, Mrs. Mergel,"

he said. "Can you give me a drink of milk? I'm on my way from M." When Mrs. Mergel brought what he wished, he asked "Where is Frederick?" She was just then busy getting a plate out and did not hear the question. He drank hesitatingly and in short draughts. Then he asked, "Do you know that last night the 'Blue Smocks' again cleared away a whole tract in the Mast forest as bare as my hand?"

"Oh, you don't mean it!" she replied indifferently.

"The scoundrels!" continued the clerk. "They ruin everything; if only they had a little regard at least for the young trees; but they go after little oaks of the thickness of my arm, too small even to make oars of!

It looks as if loss on the part of other people were just as gratifying to them as gain on their own part!"

"It's a shame!" said Margaret.

The clerk had finished his milk, but still he did not go. He seemed to have something on his mind. "Have you heard nothing about Brandes?" he asked suddenly.

"Nothing; he never enters this house."

"Then you don't know what has happened to him?"

"Why, what?" asked Margaret, agitated.

"He is dead!"

"Dead!" she cried. "What, dead? For G.o.d's sake! Why, only this morning he pa.s.sed by here, perfectly well, with his gun on his back!"

"He is dead," repeated the clerk, eyeing her sharply, "killed by the 'Blue Smocks.' The body was brought into the village fifteen minutes ago."

Margaret clasped her hands. "G.o.d in Heaven, do not judge him! He did not know what he was doing!"

"Him!" cried the clerk--"the cursed murderer you mean?"

A heavy groan came from the bedroom. Margaret hurried there and the clerk followed her. Frederick was sitting upright in bed, with his face buried in his hands, and moaning like one dying. "Frederick, how do you feel?" asked his mother.

"How do you feel?" repeated the clerk.

"Oh, my body, my head!" he wailed.

"What's the matter with him?" inquired the clerk.

"Oh, G.o.d knows," she replied; "he came home with the cows as early as four o'clock because he felt sick." "Frederick, Frederick, answer me!

Shall I go for the doctor?"

"No, no," he groaned; "it is only the colic; I'll be better soon." He lay down again; his face twitched convulsively with pain; then his color returned. "Go," he said, feebly; "I must sleep; then it will pa.s.s away."

"Mistress Mergel," asked the clerk earnestly, "are you sure that Frederick came home at four and did not go away again?"

She stared in his face. "Ask any child on the street. And go away?--I wish to G.o.d he could!"

"Didn't he tell you anything about Brandes?"

"In the name of G.o.d, yes--that Brandes had reviled him in the woods and reproached him with our poverty, the rascal! But G.o.d forgive me, he is dead! Go!" she continued; "have you come to insult honest people? Go!"

She turned to her son again, as the clerk went out. "Frederick, how do you feel?" asked his mother. "Did you hear? Terrible, terrible--without confession or absolution!"

"Mother, mother, for G.o.d's sake, let me sleep. I can stand no more!"

At this moment John n.o.body entered the room; tall and thin like a bean-pole, but ragged and shy, as we had seen him five years before. His face was even paler than usual. "Frederick," he stuttered, "you are to come to your Uncle immediately; he has work for you; without delay, now!"

Frederick turned toward the wall. "I won't come," he snapped, "I am sick."

"But you must come," gasped John; "he said I must bring you back."

Frederick laughed scornfully. "I'd like to see you!"

"Let him alone; he can't," sighed Margaret; "you see how it is." She went out for a few minutes; when she returned, Frederick was already dressed. "What are you thinking of?" she cried. "You cannot, you shall not go!"

"What must be, must," he replied, and was gone through the door with John.

"Oh, G.o.d," sobbed the mother, "when children are small they trample our laps, and when they are grown, our hearts!"

The judicial investigation had begun, the deed was as clear as day; but the evidence concerning the perpetrator was so scanty that, although all circ.u.mstances pointed strongly towards the "Blue Smocks," nothing but conjectures could be risked. One clue seemed to throw some light upon the matter; there were reasons, however, why but little dependence could be placed on it. The absence of the owner of the estate had made it necessary for the clerk of the court to start the case himself. He was sitting at his table; the room was crowded with peasants, partly those who came out of curiosity, and partly those from whom the court hoped to receive some information, since actual witnesses were lacking--shepherds who had been watching their flocks that night, laborers who had been working in near-by fields; all stood erect and firm,, with their hands in their pockets, as if thus silently manifesting their intention not to interfere.

Eight forest officers were heard; their evidence was entirely identical.

Brandes, on the tenth day of the month, had ordered them to go the rounds because he had evidently secured information concerning a plan of the "Blue Smocks"; he had, however, expressed himself but vaguely regarding the matter. At about two o'clock at night they had gone out and had come upon many traces of destruction, which put the head-forester in a very bad humor; otherwise, everything had been quiet.

About four o'clock Brandes had said, "We have been led astray; let us go home." When they had come around Bremer mountain and the wind had changed at the same time, they had distinctly heard chopping in the Mast forest and concluded from the quick succession of the strokes that the "Blue Smocks" were at work. They had deliberated a while whether it were practical to attack the bold band with such a small force, and then had slowly approached the source of the sound without any fixed determination. Then followed the scene with Frederick. Finally, after Brandes had sent them away without instructions they had gone forward a while and then, when they noticed that the noise in the woods, still rather far away, had entirely ceased, they had stopped to wait for the head-forester.

They had grown tired of waiting, and after about ten minutes had gone on toward the scene of devastation. It was all over; not another sound was to be heard in the forest; of twenty fallen trees eight were still left, the rest had been made way with. It was incomprehensible to them how this had been accomplished, since no wagon tracks were to be found. Moreover, the dryness of the season and the fact that the earth was strewn with pine-needles had prevented their distinguis.h.i.+ng any footprints, although the ground in the vicinity looked as if it had been firmly stamped down. Then, having come to the conclusion that there was no point in waiting for the head-forester, they had quickly walked to the other side of the wood in the hope of perhaps catching a glimpse of the thieves. Here one of them had caught his bottle-string in the brambles on the way out of the wood, and when he had looked around he had seen something flash in the shrubbery; it was the belt-buckle of the head-forester whom they then found lying behind the brambles, stretched out, with his right hand clutching the barrel of his gun, the other clenched, and his forehead split with an axe.

These were the statements of the foresters. It was then the peasants'

turn, but no evidence could be obtained from them. Some declared they had been at home or busy somewhere else at four o'clock, and they were all decent people, not to be suspected. The court had to content itself with their negative testimonies.

Frederick was called in. He entered with a manner in no respect different from his usual one, neither strained nor bold. His hearing lasted some time, and some of the questions were rather shrewdly framed; however, he answered them frankly and decisively and related the incident between himself and the forester truthfully, on the whole, except the end, which he deemed expedient to keep to himself. His alibi at the time of the murder was easily proved. The forester lay at the end of the Mast forest more than three-quarters of an hour's walk from the ravine where he had spoken with Frederick at four o'clock, and whence the latter had driven his cows only ten minutes later. Every one had seen this; all the peasants present did their utmost to confirm it; to this one he had spoken, to that one, nodded.

The court clerk sat ill-humored and embarra.s.sed. Suddenly he reached behind him and, presenting something gleaming to Frederick's gaze, cried: "To whom does this belong?" Frederick jumped back three paces, exclaiming, "Lord Jesus! I thought you were going to brain me."

His eyes had quickly pa.s.sed across the deadly tool and seemed to fix themselves for a moment on a splinter broken out of the handle. "I do not know," he added firmly. It was the axe which they had found plunged in the head-forester's skull.

"Look at it carefully," continued the clerk. Frederick took it in his hand, looked at the top, the bottom, turned it over. "One axe looks like another," he then said, and laid it unconcernedly on the table. A blood-stain was visible; he seemed to shudder, but he repeated once more with decision: "I do not know it." The clerk of the court sighed with displeasure. He himself knew of nothing more, and had only sought to bring about a possible disclosure through surprise. There was nothing left to do but to close the hearing.

To those who are perhaps interested in the outcome of this affair, I must say that the story was never cleared up, although much effort was made to throw light upon it and several other judicial examinations followed. The sensation which the incident had caused and the more stringent measures adopted in consequence of it, seemed to have broken the courage of the "Blue Smocks"; from now on it looked as though they had entirely disappeared, and although many a wood-thief was caught after that, they never found cause to connect him with the notorious band. Twenty years afterwards the axe lay as a useless _corpus delicti_ in the archives of the court, where it is probably resting yet with its rust spots. In a made-up story it would be wrong thus to disappoint the curiosity of the reader, but all this actually happened; I can add or detract nothing. The next Sunday Frederick rose very early to go to confession. It was the day of the a.s.sumption of the Blessed Virgin and the parish priests were in the confessionals before dawn. He dressed in the dark, and as quietly as possible left the narrow closet which had been consigned to him in Simon's house. His prayer-book, he thought, would be lying on the mantelpiece in the kitchen, and he hoped to find it with the help of the faint moonlight. It was not there. He glanced searchingly around, and started; at the bedroom door stood Simon, half-dressed; his rough figure, his uncombed, tangled hair, and the paleness of his face in the moonlight, gave him a horribly changed appearance. "Can he possibly be walking in his sleep?" thought Frederick, and kept quite still. "Frederick, where are you going?"

whispered the old man.

"Uncle, is that you? I am on my way to confession."

"That's what I thought; go, in the name of G.o.d, but confess like a good Christian."

"That I will," said Frederick.

Think of the Ten Commandments: 'Thou shalt not bear witness against thy neighbor.'"